During our summer research, the name “Ellen Duvall” began to be tossed around always accompanied by a sort of painful giggle in response to whatever problematic (see: racist) thing she had done in the meeting minutes next. I didn’t know much about her, but I began to hate Ellen Duvall. And when I was assigned to research and read her published works, that same painful giggle came back. I already knew what I’d find: Ellen Duvall writing a lot of problematic things that would be difficult to get through reading. I expected I’d continue to hate her.

I think you can see where this is going. It turns out, I don’t hate Ellen Duvall. I hate the racist things she’s done and said, and this isn’t me giving her a get out of jail free card. I think she’s teaching me, though, that it’s important to see the whole person: not just someone’s flaws. And these women are all deeply flawed, just as we are.

Looking at Duvall’s work, I was surprised at how good some of her stuff is. By some, I do mean some though. I read five pieces and I really only liked two. I found “A Point of Honor” and “Estelle” gripping and actually very wise and relatable. “A Point of Honor” is a short story involving a young woman, Adela, who seeks out the advice of her aunt, Miss Miriam Hatley. Basically Adela likes this dude who she’s been close friends with for ages, and then her friend Ethel comes along and her and the guy end up hitting it off. Adela begins to resent Ethel, and Miriam helps her to look at the situation more rationally, and also simply to not let a man come between a female friendship. Duvall writes,

“I know how prone we all are to think that love in itself constitutes some sort of claim; but it does not. It simply gives the right to stand aside or to serve, as the case may be.”

The story is written really well and touches beautifully on themes of jealousy, pride, and love.

A quote from the beginning of “A Point of Honor” perhaps sheds some light on Duvall’s own thoughts toward her ‘responsibility’ as a writer:  

“For she thinks that the reader has no responsibility toward the author, but the author has every responsibility toward the reader.”

Duvall clearly loved to write. She has countless published works, mostly fictional short stories and the occasional article. She was fond of Shakespeare and wrote about him a lot too, as is mentioned a lot in the meeting minutes.

It was difficult to find Duvall’s birth and death dates, and to my shock I couldn’t find a single short biography about her. I kind of expected her to have a Wikipedia page at the very least, just because of the extent of how much she’s been published. I thought I’d found her on Find a Grave, which is, I think, the source Sydney had originally used to find her age back during our summer research, but it turns out that’s the wrong Ellen Duvall, though they were buried in the same cemetery. It doesn’t help, of course, that she doesn’t have an uncommon name.

A newspapers.com and ancestry.com free trial later, I found out that Ellen Duvall was born in Delaware in (I think) 1854. According to ancestry.com, she died in 1943, but according to her obituary, she died in 1944, so I’m going to go with 1944– which means she was an astounding 90 years old when she passed. 

When I set out searching on newspapers.com, I knew finding an obituary would be key to finding other biographical information. It wasn’t easy though– Ellen Duvall was mentioned in The Baltimore Sun hundreds of times. Usually, it was in conjunction with a mention of the WLCB which was mentioned a lot, or her doing a reading somewhere, or she was even highlighted in a spread of Baltimore women writers, which many of our ladies were showcased in as well.

I couldn’t find her obituary for a while precisely because she was everywhere. And when I did, it was by mere chance because I almost missed it in its sparsity. After years of mentions like those above, here is Duvall’s obituary in the same paper:

Perhaps the highlight is that she’s credited as being one of the founders of WLCB and an ‘associate of’ Cloud and Reese, but wow– no mention of her ‘notable works’ from the mini-biography published in the Sun years prior; no mention of her being a published author even.

Duvall spent most of her life as a single boarder. It’s mentioned in her obituary that she died in the home of her nephew, Philips F. Lee, the son of her younger sister, Laura Duvall. She had five siblings total, and seemingly alternated between living with one of them or her parents over the years. I wonder what her relationship with her family was like– I wonder if she ever longed to live on her own, or if she was content.

As I read and find more of Duvall’s work, I look forward to finding out more about her. Despite her high status in the Club, countless publications, and single status and therefore easily google-able name, even she, it seems, has fallen somewhat through history’s cracks.

Woods, Katharine Pearson (1853–1923)

Katharine Pearson Woods was an American novelist, born Jan 28, 1853, in Wheeling, VA to Alexander Quarrier Woods, a tobacco merchant and Josephine Augusta (McCabe) Woods. She was the oldest of three girls where their parents promoted literature and education. This was a big influence in Miss.Woods works.

In 1874, at the age of twenty-one, she joined the religious organization of the All Saints Sisters of the Poor. Due to illness, she withdrew, but this experience led to her work in charity which encouraged the religious and moral tone of her writings.

In 1889, Miss Woods’s first novel was published. Metzerott, Shoemaker based on the Christian principals who advocated economic reform for the working class. Her other works included; Web of Gold (1890), The Crowning of Candace (1896) The Mark of the Beast: A Romance (1890), The Son of Ingar (1897), and The True Story of Captain John Smith (1901)

Woods’ greatest strength in her writings is evident in her description of natural settings and reflection for the love of nature. This strength landed several of her poems to be published in Harper’s Magazine.

Through the years, Katharine Pearson Woods took part in the WLCB, taught school age girls as well as continued with her good deeds and religious practices until her death , February 19, 1923.

When I was first assigned to recover what works I can by Elizabeth Graham, I barely recognized her name. I had the impression that she was one of the club’s most quiet published members. Most of what I’ve found confirms that she did, in fact, lead a quiet life.

Elizabeth Turner Graham was born in 1858 and died in 1920. She’s buried in the Friends Burial Ground, which also happens to be Baltimore’s oldest cemetery. Her burial site implies a connection with the Quakers, and much of her poetry reflects religious belief.

After all my sleuthing, I’ve only found two works that I know to be written by Graham: Buttercups and Daisies: Songs of a Summer, and Holly and Mistletoe: Songs Across the Snow. As the similar titles suggest, the two were intended to be companion volumes, and were published one year apart—in 1884 and 1885, respectively. Both of them are rare, but I was able to get my hands on them today in the Maryland Room of UMD’s Hornbake Library.

Both volumes of poetry are quite beautiful. My sense is that everything—from illustrations to binding—was done by Graham. The poetry seems to have been written for children. Graham writes about the unfolding summer—about elves, flowers, and songbirds. In Holly and Mistletoe, the imagery reverses, and she inflects her poetry with an overtly religious tone. Here’s a typical poem of hers, entitled “Fair Month of June:

The hills are white,
Oh, Summer-time!
With snowy Ox-eyed Daisies,
And Buttercups,
With dew filled up,
Her golden vase upraises.

The year moves on,
Oh, Summer-time!
Life’s joys are now the fleetest;
And ‘neath thy moon,
Fair month of June,
Are lover’s vows the sweetest.

There’s little remarkable about her poetry. But holding those volumes in my hands, and leafing through them, it was clear that both books were labors of love. The poems are singsongy, as children’s poetry should be; and the accompanying illustrations, also by Graham, brought them to life.

But, after the publication of these two books, it seems that her attentions went elsewhere. She organized Mt. Washington’s Lend-a-Hand Club—the first woman’s club in Maryland—and served as its president for at least twenty years. From what I’ve found of the club, its aims were more philanthropic than our own WLCB, but no less successful.

I might not have recognized Graham’s name from the minutes, but I did recognize the name of the Lend-a-Hand Club. The two publications of hers I’ve found are, in their own way, remarkable; but I think it’s likely that much of her literary aspiration was supplanted by activity in women’s clubs.