Offering a new view into the lives and experiences of plebeian men and women, and a provocative exploration of the history of the body itself, Embodied History approaches the bodies of the poor in early national Philadelphia as texts to be read and interpreted. Through a close examination of accounts of the bodies that appeared in runaway advertisements and in seafaring, almshouse, prison, hospital, and burial records, Simon P. Newman uses physical details to paint an entirely different portrait of the material circumstances of the poor, examining the ways they became categorized in the emerging social hierarchy, and how they sought to resist such categorization.
The Philadelphians examined in Embodied History were members of the lower sort, a social category that emerged in the early modern period from the belief in a society composed of natural orders and ranks. The population of the urban poor grew rapidly after the American Revolution, and middling and elite citizens were frightened by these poor bodies, from the tattooed professional sailor, to the African American runaway with a highly personalized hairstyle and distinctive mannerisms and gestures, to the vigorous and lively Irish prostitute who refused to be cowed by the condemnation of others, to the hardworking laboring family whose weakened and diseased children played and sang in the alleys. In a new republic premised on liberty and equality, the rapidly increasing ranks of unruly bodies threatened to overwhelm traditional notions of deference, hierarchy, and order.
Affluent Philadelphians responded by employing runaway advertisements, the almshouse, the prison, and to a lesser degree the hospital to incarcerate, control, and correct poor bodies and transform them into well-dressed, hardworking, deferential members of society. Embodied History is a compelling and accessible exploration of how poverty was etched and how power and discipline were enacted upon the bodies of the poor, as well as how the poor attempted to transcend such discipline through assertions of bodily agency and liberty.
This is a useful and engaging book, far more than three stars would suggest. For shedding light on life in Philadelphia during the early Republic, it's incredibly good. The author details how the poor lived and died, who the poor were, and who treated them with respect and who did not.
But.
The whole "body" school of social history drives me up a wall. Everything is written along the lines of "these bodies were respected and honored" or "well-dressed bodies appeared in art and poor bodies rarely did" and "sailors expressed their political philosophy by enduring painful tattoos on their bodies." And so on.
I understand the point of talking about important people controlling and acting on people who were poor or otherwise lacked power, but use of the term "body" instead of "person" only further dehumanizes the poor sods who lived desperate, disease-ridden lives.
It turns them into widgets.
Also, it's incredibly tiresome to read after the first ten pages.
The big trick in the book is some scribbled in "impoverished" bodies added to William Birch's contemporary (1799) prints of various places in Philadelphia, as if this is a huge revelation: OMG THERE WERE POOR PEOPLE AND THEY WEREN'T INCLUDED BY BIRCH.
So...really, there are some people--sorry, "bodies," who actually look at Birch's art and think it wasn't highly idealized? Come on. Maybe these are bodies inhabiting ivory towers, but there are some bodies who look at period art and realize that artist bodies, then as now, need to sell their work in order to eat, and there's only so much Hogarth the world can take.
For all that, I'd recommend the book to anyone interested in life in the early Republic. I'd also recommend NOT turning the use of the word "body" into a drinking game, lest your body suffer from alcohol poisoning.