In 1984, San Jose State archaeologist Thomas Layton and his team combed through a site near Point Cabrillo, north of Mendocino, for remains of a Pomo Indian village. Uncovering shards of porcelain led Layton to the wreckage of a New England-China trading vessel, The Frolic. A book series ensued: The Voyage of the Frolic (1997), Gifts from the Celestial Kingdom (2002), and now, The “Other” Dixwells,. In this final addition to the series, Layton turns to a subject near and dear to my heart: family history.To be clear, The “Other” Dixwells is not a monograph. It is a fictionalized intergenerational account of George Basil Dixwell, a China trader employed by Augustine Heard & Co., his wife Hu Ts’ai-shun, and their son T’ien-sheng/Charles Sargent Dixwell. The story of this family is fascinating. Jacques Downs’s canonical look at the pre-1842 U.S.-China trade, The Golden Ghetto, mentions several American merchants who formed relationships with Tanka women and had children abroad. But with the exception of Emma Teng’s Eurasian: Mixed Identities in the United States, China, and Hong Kong, 1842–1943, scholars have spent little concentrated attention on these families. Given the immense research evident in the more than one-hundred pages of endnotes and appendices, The “Other” Dixwells is a noteworthy contribution to the field.The story thus starts in 1806 at the Sargent residence on Boston’s Newbury Street with a question of conscience. George’s aunt, Henrietta Sargent, was an ardent abolitionist, and her aunt was proto-feminist writer Judith Sargent Murray. By Chapter 3, in 1841, George departed for China to partake in the world of commerce and, as Layton notes, the traffic in opium. He came under fire (figuratively) from Aunt Henrietta and (literally) during the Opium War. George left Augustine Heard & Co. in 1847, traveled to Boston and New York where he faced a failed courtship, to California, and back to China in 1857. While his domestic investments with friend James Dorr failed, George’s interest in engineering and invention solidified. Sometime between 1867 and early 1868, while working in Shanghai, Dixwell married Hu Ts’ai-shun, a woman of Manchu birth. It is in these final four chapters that the focus turns to these “‘other’ Dixwells.”Poignant details emerge directly from the archival record, from Hu’s adoption of another son after she returns to China to Charles’s reclamation of his father’s name, Dixwell, in 1889, to his switch of birthplace on his passport from Shanghai to Nagasaki in 1901. The pilot’s license for Bazil Dixwell, Charlie’s son, offers tangible evidence of the genealogical line’s triumph. But the bulk of the text is rooted in Layton’s embrace of “the techniques of the novelist.” The narrative recounts what could have happened. Chapters are composed of vignettes of imagined conversations. Endnotes buttress the plausibility of the vignettes with extensive sources and consultations with field experts. Boxes of text at points within chapters reveal a metahistory of personal anecdotes of how Layton discovered particular sources, visits to relevant sites, and connections with modern kin. My personal favorite: each chapter culminates in images of paintings, photographs, and objects that help readers visualize the history.Thus, is this book of interest to readers of the Pacific Historical Review? I argue yes. The endnotes are rife with documentation. Sources range from archival and genealogical records, oral histories of family lore, paintings and photographs as well as images of germane material culture. As long as the reader’s expectations are clear, enjoy.
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