: Image: George H. Johnson, 1853/Courtesy Oakland Museum of California

The daguerrotype process had a relatively short commercial life span of about two decades. A major reason was that innovators capitalized on “France’s gift to the world” and started improving the process immediately. Better emulsions and better developing and fixing solutions improved image quality and reduced exposure times. Replacing the metal matrix for the emulsions with glass-plate negatives — and eventually celluloid — and printing the images on paper all helped shape more than a century of film photography.

But the sudden release of the previously secret process created a worldwide mania for having one’s image “done.”
This was especially true in the United States, as you can see in the following examples.

California Fireman

Daguerreotypes were objects of pride, so the subjects usually posed in their finest clothes, whether their Sunday best or uniforms. The image was fixed on a polished metal surface, which was usually covered with a thin plate of glass for protection and enclosed in a frame or case.

This relatively large example occupies a full, standard-size daguerreotype plate, 9 by 7 inches. Although the names of the subject might be lost (because everyone knew it was Uncle Albert), the photographer’s name often appeared in a corner of the plate or on the frame or case.

: Image: Isaac Wallace Baker, circa 1853/CourtesyOakland Museum of California

More typical was a sixth-plate daguerreotype, occupying one-sixth of a standard plate, or 3.25 x 3.25 inches. Exposure time could be several minutes, and it’s hard to hold a smile for that long, so photographers usually instructed subjects to hold their mouths in a flat, noncommittal mien.

If you think these folks look uncomfortable (or worse), you try sitting like that, unflinching, for two minutes.

: Image: Isaac Wallace Baker, circa 1853/CourtesyOakland Museum of California

This sixth-plate image (3.25 by 3.25 inches) had a more elaborate case, and the subject appears proud of his queue.

: Image: Attributed to William Shew, circa 1853/Courtesy Oakland Museum

Whether this was some sort of fraternal group, merchants’ association or just gentleman songsters off on a spree, we know naught. It would be hard to make out the tiny faces in a sixth-plate, so this group portrait was exposed on a half-plate, 6 by 4.75 inches.

: Image: Unidentified photographer, between 1860 and 1862, re-photographed 1961/Courtesy Library of Co

Pvt. Jemison served in the 2nd Louisiana Regiment of the Confederate Army. While fighting in the Peninsula campaign under General J.B. Magruder, Jemison was killed in the battle of Poindexter’s Farm (aka the Battle of Malvern Hill, Virginia in July 1862).

The battle was a tactical victory for the Union, though Union Gen. George McClellan in typical fashion failed to make good use of it. For Pvt. Jemison, the battle was a disaster.

: Image: Unidentified photographer, between 1840 and 1860/Courtesy Library of Congress

This unidentified woman sat by a table, a longstanding artistic convention in portraits of women. The book at her elbow may be a Bible.

: Image: Unidentified photographer, 1847/Courtesy Library of Congress

The unidentified girl may be holding a daguerreotype case. That would put her in touch with the “magic” while she had to sit stock-still for several minutes. The object might also be her favorite storybook, a similar attempt at pacification. Or, following the conventions of painted portraits, it could be a child’s prayer book or a reading primer.

Mid-1840s daguerreotypes cost anywhere from $2 to $5 ($55 to $140 in today’s money), so you can see why families treasured them and held on to them. Those daguerreotype cases also helped preserve them.

: Image: Senter E. Price, between 1849 and 1859/Courtesy Library of Congress

A paper note with this daguerreotype says: “Hosea Curtice.” That’s may be the guy in the picture, but maybe it’s the name of the owner, or a name that the guy in the picture wanted to remember. Best bet: It’s him, all right.

: Image: Unidentified photographer, circa-1864/Courtesy Library of Congress

President Lincoln sat for an albumen photograph, which was then duplicated as a daguerreotype. It’s framed in a leather case with a push-button clasp.

: Image: Unidentified photographer, between 1852 and 1860/Courtesy Library of Congress

A moving steamship or riverboat would have been hard to capture with the long exposures a daguerreotype needed. But a steamship at a landing, perhaps with crew, officers and passengers ready and willing to pose, now there’s a subject!

: Image: Unidentified photographer, between 1842 and 1860/Courtesy Library of Congress

What more can we say?

: Image: Unidentified photographer, circa 1848/Courtesy Library of Congress

These guys’ job was to drove, or herd, the oxen. These oxen appear to be yoked for the purpose of hauling something. Tough job all around.

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