Willkommen... to Frenchman Bay, MaineGermany's 1899 Plan for Invading the United States

How do you say "More lobster, please" in German? If German plans more than a century ago had actually been implemented, that phrase may have become part of the new Maine vernacular.

Politics of Frustration: The United States in German Naval Planning, 1889-1941, by Holger H. Herwig; Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1976).

This book caught my eye for historical reasons (intriguing history!) as well for the lone illustration in the book which shows plans for a German invasion of the United States in 1899. Two routes were mapped out with the first depicting the would-be conquerors landing in Frenchman Bay, Maine.




This book details the history of the German-American Naval rivalry dating back to an encounter in 1889 and culminating World War II. Incidents in that initial encounter of the two navies in Samoa generated such antagonism that the Kaiser developed plans for an invasion of the United States in 1899. An Invasion Plan (map above) is presented as an illustration on this book.

Mehr Hummer, bitte!

A plate of Belgian lace

I have a chromolithograph plate, for which I am trying to find the book it illustrates. I found the folio-size plate (12 X 17 inches), matted and framed (since removed), hanging in a resale shop, and walked out with it for $7. Bargain? I don't know for sure, but I think so. I only know that it reminded me of a trip to Belgium in 1994 and walking through the old city of Bruges along the aged cobblestone streets, window shopping for chocolate and lace with my wife. I thought she might like the old plate I found the other day. She did. It may have a new home in our home, but first I want to find out something about where it came from. Depending on value, it may have a new home elsewhere via ebay.


The title of the plate is Brussels Lace, by V. Washer of Brussels. In small print above the title, and just below the chromolithograph, are some good bibliographic clues that help identify the book from which the plate may have originated:

London. Chromolithographed and published by Day & Son,
Lithographers to the Queen
J.B. Waring, direx.t


Using this information in a keyword search, I was able to locate a few copies of a book, or set of books, that seem to fit the bill for my plate:
Masterpieces of Industrial Art & Sculpture at the International Exposition, 1862 (3-volume set), edited by J.B. Waring. There are more than 300 chromolithograph plates in the set. Other books I found were ruled out if the number of plates in the book was less than than 109, the number assigned to my plate. The International Exhibit was like a World's Fair type of event, and was held in London in 1851 and 1861. Images, like the one below, of the 1862 Exhibit can be found at the Science and Society Picture Library site.



I may have even found the lithographer who actually did the chromolithographs for the book and, thus, the plate now in my possession. Researching the International Exhibition of 1862 led me to a related book, Victorian Decorated Trade Bindings 1830-1880, by Edmund M.B. King, Oak Knoll Press (2003). An excerpt of the book referenced William Robert Tymms, artist and engraver, who created the chromolithographs for J. B. Waring’s Masterpieces of the Industrial Art & Sculpture at the International Exhibition, 1862.

All I need now is the final piece of proof that my detective work is on target. Stay tuned...

Happy Birthday, Lou Gehrig!

The Iron Horse is 105 today. He died a little over 66 years ago on June 2, 1941. Twenty-three years later, in 1964, I made my first trip to the school library (2nd grade) and selected Lou Gehrig: Boy of the Sandlots, by Guernsey Van Riper; Bobbs-Merril, 1959. This selection coincided with my beginning Little League Baseball. I was eight years old and in love with the sport. Lou Gehrig became my hero after I read this Childhood of Famous Americans classic.


Several decades later, before I got into bookselling and more serious collecting, I learned there was an edition that preceded the edition I grew up with. The first edition was published in 1949, same publisher (Bobbs-Merrill). It was illustrated with silhouettes instead of pictures. I could not relate to this or any other of the silhouette books in the series. I grew up with the reprints, and, as a collector now, I still look for and prefer the reprints, whose jackets of soft colors and basic geometric shapes never fail to provide me with a burst of pleasant nostalgia. I do collect the first editions, but they don't create that connection with my childhood like the later printings do.


Here are a few other Gehrig biographies from my collection. These are a bit harder to find than other books written about him.

Lou Gehrig: A Quiet Hero, by Frank Graham; G.P. Putnam's Sons, NY, 1942


Lou Gehrig: Pride of the Yankees, by Paul Gallico; Grosset & Dunlap, NY, 1942 (Jacket features Gehrig and Gary Cooper, who played Gehrig in the 1942 film, Pride of the Yankees)


Lou Gehrig: The Iron Horse of Baseball, by Richard Hubler; Houghton Mifflin, Boston, 1941


My Luke and I: Mrs. Gehrig's Joyous and Tragic Love for the Iron man of Baseball, by Eleanor Gehrig and Joseph Durso; Thomas Y. Crowell Company, NY, 1976

Bookbinder artistry

I've always been drawn to the decorative bindings of certain antiquarian books and have purchased books just for the binding, regardless of the authors or titles or content of the book. Sometimes it's the object that counts. Now, the University of Alabama has created an online digital display cabinet of these kinds of books so artistically bound. Click here to view.

Below are a few samples from my collection (1875 to 1906). Historic Philadelphia Mansions and A Boy's Vacation Abroad were actually purchased because I found references in them to some of my family history. Sometimes you get lucky and get the whole package!






Here's a related entry from October 2006.
.
.
.

Herbert Faulkner West: A bookseller's sunny intervals

A nice second-hand bookstore find the other day introduced me to a passionate bookseller and collector and popular Dartmouth professor of literature via the book, SUNNY INTERVALS: A Bookman's Miscellanea, London / San Francisco / Hanover, by Herbert Faulkner West; Westholm Publications, 1972; signed and numbered by the author, below colophon (limited edition of 400 copies). Unfortunately, he died a few years after the publication of this volume, which was more than 30 years ago.


Laid in at the beginning of the book was a nice surprise--a letter from the author, as well as various correspondence from the book's previous owner, relating items about the author. Also, there were several newspaper articles about his death and long career teaching. I feel fortunate to have discovered him through this book, and am grateful to the kind stewards at the used bookshop for keeping intact the associated ephemera from a previous owner connected to Mr. West.


His book buying trips to the locales listed in the title of this book are full of detail regarding his purchases and from whom he purchased the books. That information provides interesting insight to the values and provenance of certain books and authors he collected, such as Robert Frost, W.H. Hudson, T.E. Lawrence, T.S. Eliot, and William Butler Yeats.

The first chapter may explain finding this copy of the book in a Texas bookshop. The book begins with a 1964 trip to Texas, where West meets with J. Frank Dobie in Austin. Dobie is legendary in Texas and he and West seemed to have had a friendship. Mr. West finds Dobie in ill health, but still getting around.

Subsequent chapters detail various bookbuying trips West took to California and London. He never fails to mention dealers and their stock and exactly what he bought. Often times he mentions what he paid for a collectible book, giving collectors and dealers alike an idea of how much certain books have appreciated over the years. For example: The Story of the Malakand Field Force, by Winston Churchill (1898) cost West $125 during a California buying trip in the 1960s. Today, for a nice first edition of that book, he could expect to pay between $3,000 and $4,000. Another purchase, James Joyce's first book, Chamber Music (immaculate condition) set him back $182. Today, that book would quickly run up into the thousands, possibly as much as $10,000.

As for booksellers, he knew quite a few of the prominent ones in both America and England. Collectors and sellers alike, if they've been at it long enough, have undoubtedly heard of Serendipity Books in Berkeley, California. West recounts a 1968 visit with Peter Howard, the owner, shortly after he had opened Serendipity. West prophetically proclaims, "I think he has quite a future as a bookseller."

West was also friends with various writers, including poet Robert Frost and novelist Henry Miller. Much of his collection of Henry Miller works and correspondence with the author is now in the Dartmouth College Library. Of Miller, West has been credited with having written the first review of him in America. And that review is reproduced in this book, Sunny Intervals.

For those who enjoy a vicarious trip among the continents in search of rare books, Sunny Intervals may offer the appropriate vehicle.

Burning books... and the bookseller: Papal persecution of the Waldenses

For the last month, I’ve been traipsing about the Alps and nearby valleys between France and Italy, and on a timeline around the mid-1500s. I’ve been trying to find a bookseller who was burned at the stake for selling books he shouldn’t have been selling, according to papal authorities at that time.

I recently acquired an antique print from 1770 that depicts a bookseller being burnt at the stake in Avignon. His crime was selling Protestant Bibles, reportedly printed in the native French tongue of his customers. The print came from Henry Southwell's, The New Book of Martyrs or Compleat Christian Martyrology, published in London by J. Cooke in 1770. I wanted to know who the bookseller was and why selling certain books cost him his life. I had a similar curiosity about a German bookseller named Johann Palm, who was executed by napoleon's troops, and researched some pretty fascinating history that resulted in the very first entry on this blog. So now I have another martyred bookseller on my hands. I know from the print that it happened sometime before 1770 in Avignon, France, and the bookseller was selling French language Bibles. Time for some more research.

My search led me to the Waldenses of France, a Protestant sect that broke from the teachings of the Church of Rome and suffered brutal persecution for hundreds of years. Providing some very brief background details, a certain Pierre Valdo became a thorn in the Pope's side sometime around 1150 A.D., preaching a reformed Christianity that supported separation from the Catholic Church. His followers became known as the Vaudois (Waldens), with most of their parishes being in the Alpine valley of the Piedmont. Their numbers reached about 20,000 and missionaries went forth to spread the word. They were savagely persecuted in France, Spain, and Italy. And over the next 600 years or so, the Vaudois, or Waldenses, suffered repeated persecution at the hands of Popes, and Dukes and Duchesses. But 1540-1570 seems to have been particularly cruel and horrific. That may be where the bookseller comes in, and being burned at the stake seems tame compared with the umbelievably inhuman torture suffered by most (details are spared here... see the Book of Martyrs if you have a strong stomach). Halley’s Bible handbook, 1965 estimates 900,000 Protestants killed from 1540 to 1570 in the persecution of the Waldenses. Concerning the persecutions in France, Southwell writes,

“Thus did popish malice pursue the reformed in most parts of France, and persecute them under various names, but the denomination about this time, viz. the sixteenth century, most obnoxious to the Roman Catholics were hugonots, protestants, Lutherans, and Calvinists; and as these words were then synonymous in their meaning, and implied renouncing the errors of the church of Rome, so all who were apprehended under the imputation of belonging to either, were equally martyred. Yet the reformed flourished under persecution….” [p. 93]

“the king [of France] publically declared he would exterminate the protestants from France….” “The general cry was ‘Turn papists, or die.’” [p. 108]

“Those who were not put to death suffered imprisonment, had their houses pulled down, their lands laid waste, their property stolen, and their wives and daughters, after being ravished, sent into convents…. If any fled from these cruelties, they were pursued through the woods, hunted and shot like wild beasts....At the head of the dragoons, in all the provinces of France, marched the bishops, priests, friars, &c. the clergy being ordered to keep up the cruel spirit of the military. An order was published for demolishing all protestant churches….” [pp. 108-109]

However, I can find no record of a bookseller being burned at the stake in Avignon, but a rather well-documented case of another bookseller’s demise, for the same crime no less as the that of the bookseller in Avignon, does exist about the same time in Turin, Italy. This bookseller was Bartholomew Hector, a native of Poiters in France. After his own break from the Church of Rome to embrace the Protestant faith, he had settled in Genoa to live peacefully with his family, practicing his new faith. He began selling Bibles and his journeys took him into the Piedmonts to sell French language Bibles to the Waldenses. On one such trip, he was captured by Roman soldiers and jailed for nearly seven months before being brought to trial for the crime of selling French language Bibles to Protestants. He was subsequently ordered to be burned at the stake in Turin. But the judges must have taken pity on him—a rare attitude in those times—because Hector was given several chances to renounce his faith and rejoin the Church of Rome. He refused. At the last minute, as he was about to be burned, he was offered on last chance, a most unusual gesture. Here’s what happened (from Testimony of Bartholomew Hector - A.D. 1555):

"To this faithful Christian man this last offer was but old temptation under a new form. It was in his eyes an absolute recantation of his Faith, an actual betrayed of the Savior who had died for him. This was no time for unholy compromises. Instead of returning an answer to the messenger of the court, he fell on his knees on the pile on which He was to die, and clasping his hands and raising his eyes to heaven, he exclaimed in a loud voice: "O Lord! Give me Grace to preserve unto the end; pardon those whose sentence is now to separate my soul from my body; they are not Unjust, but Blind. O Lord! Enlighten by Thy Spirit this people who are around me, and bring them very soon to a knowledge of the TRUTH." At these words the people, who had waited in a painful suspense, to see how the martyr would receive the offer of pardon, burst into a loud sob, and there were some who cried out that it was a shame to put to death so good man who gave such evidence of being a Christian. The officers, fearful of the effect of this feeling, ordered the execution to put his victim to death without delay. The martyr was seized, thrown down upon the pile and strangled, and at the same moment the flames shot up enveloping the stake and the victim from the gaze of the multitude. The soul of Hector had passed through eternity into New Jerusalem, to receive its reward from the hands of Him who has said: "To him that overcometh Will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and sit down with my Father in His throne."

Quite a story of unwavering faith. But this is just one of millions during several hundred years the Waldenses resisted the Church of Rome. It is very likely there was more than one bookseller selling French Protestant Bibles. It is equally likely that more than one could have been caught and burned at the stake. But the way in which Bartholomew Hector moved the people who had gathered to watch him burn distinguishes him from any others, of whom no record appears to exist.

Bartholomew Hector is the only “burnt bookseller” I know of from Foxe’s, Southwell's, and others’ editions of the Book of Martyrs. Is it possible that the French Protestant bookseller depicted by artist Dodd delin in Southwell’s book was actually executed in Turin? It stands to reason that if you’re going to depict a bookseller burning at the stake, your likely subject will be the bookseller well documented in the book in which your engraving will appear. Until I find out otherwise, if I do, I am leaning towards a factual error in the engraving.

Another interesting aspect of researching forgotten history subjects is what you find along the way that can take you down other roads, directly related or otherwise. For example, D.J. McAdam’s website for book collectors. Lots of interesting and valuable information here for bibliophiles. The page that linked to my research was about historical authors who met their fates because of the books they wrote. Within that page, a link to Books Fatal to Their Authors, by P.H. Ditchfield (1895) . And quite possibly, any bookseller caught selling such offensive material suffered a similar fate of mortality. With the two I have found this year, I may have the beginnings of another volume: Books That Killed the Bookseller.

Separating the idiots from the morons

An interesting look at the way our language usage changes over time can be found in You and Heredity, by Adam Scheinfeld, published by the Frederick A. Stokes Company in New York, 1939.


Chapter XXIV of this volume is titled Sick Minds. It begins with a look at mental illness, as it relates to heredity, and segues from manic-depressives and schizophrenia into feeble-mindedness and subnormal intelligence: "It is the very large class of the higher type of feeble-minded, the morons, which concerns us most. Only by an intelligence test can they be distinguished from persons of normal intelligence."

For the IQ test, persons who scored below 90 were considered below average. For them, there was a scale used to further classify the levels of subnormal intelligence. And this is where we get into archaic usage and how that usage has evolved (devolved?). Apparently, the terms used on this scale were acceptable and without the insulting connotations they carry today. They are, in descending order: Dull, Feeble-minded, Moron, Imbecile, and Idiot. Morons had the distinction of being further defined as either High-grade, Mid-grade, or Low-grade Morons.


We all know how these terms are used today. Insulting as they are in their current-day slang usage, they once constituted valid terminology among mental health professionals. Modern-day equivalents include Borderline Intellectual Functioning, Mild Mental Retardation, Moderate Retardation, Severe Mental Retardation, and Profound Mental Retardation.

Fifty to a hundred years from now, it would be interesting to see if these words hold up in the context of intelligence descriptors. Likely they won’t. Language is, and always has been, constantly changing and evolving in various ways. No reason to believe that process would exclude the IQ scale.

Steinbeck's journal

A few weeks ago, while out book hunting, I came across a copy of Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters, by John Steinbeck, published posthumously by the Viking Press, 1969. The jacket cover features a box that Steinbeck hand-carved for his journal, which was presented to his editor upon completion of the novel. On the box, he carved the title of the novel and the Hebrew characters for the word timshel, which appears in a key scene of the novel.


The price was $16 and I started to put it back, as it looked like a $15 book, for resale, at best. But I decided to read just a bit of it--journals and diaries usually catch my attention. Plus Steinbeck was someone whose works I read in high school, maybe college--I don't remember. And I had not read East of Eden. I was hooked by the first page or two and and quickly put it in my basket, thankful I had taken a second look at it.

This journal not only offers an interesting look at the creative process at work for writing the novel, but also offers some interesting autobiographical insights. I'm no Steinbeck scholar, so most of it is new to me. But I'd bet that any Steinbeck aficionado would find something of interest here.

Steinbeck wrote in this journal every day that he worked on East of Eden, from January 29 to November 1, 1951. The actual journal was a gift from his editor, Pascal Covici, whom he addressed as Pat in his journal. Each entry was written in the form of a letter to his editor, and contained information about the work in progress on the novel, thoughts, ideas, and debates about the course of the novel. He also let personal information seep in, such as this entry early on in the writing:

I must get into the book again at least try to even though my mind is badly cut up in all directions. Very hard to concentrate today. But I must try for my own safety.Take things in stride and particularly don't anticipate trouble before it happens. One of my very worst habits is the anticipation of difficulties and vicariously to go through them in advance. Then, if they do happen I have to do it twice, and if they don't happen I have done them unnecessarily. I know this is my habit... but not to o it requires constant watchfulness on my part. I have the recurring tendency. I guess I am what is called a worrier.

Sounds like he suffered through bouts of anxiety from time-to-time. And in a single paragraph of another entry, we learn about his recent struggle with depression and excessive drinking, and he even offers a glimpse of his sex life:

My health is generally good. I have been drinking too much, I think, and a few times in the last months I have had depressions. But it does not seem to me that the depressions are as awful as they used to be. Perhaps some acid juice is drying up. My sexual drive is, if anything, stronger than ever but that may be because it is all in one direction now and not scattered. I don't know about my thinking. It will take this book to determine if that is any good. My mind seems to me to be young and elastic but perhaps everyone thinks that always.

He is self-critical at times, very sensitive toward his young boys, dedicated to his work and getting it just right (which obviously he did). An interesting man, Steinbeck provides insight into his creative mind and his personal life through this brief journal at a time in his life when he seemed to be relatively content and on top of his game. More on the journal later, as certain entries might warrant...

Pinocchio revisited

I got bit of a shock reading what I think is one of the earlier English translations of the Italian children's classic, Pinnochio. The volume I found a copy of recently is Pinocchio: The Adventures of a Marionette, by C. Collodi, Ginn and Company, Boston, 1904. Translated from the Italian by Walter S. Cramp; with Editorial Revision by Sara E.H. Lockwood; with Many Original Drawings by Charles Copeland.


It was Copeland's illustrations that got my attention and made me start reading this classic. I had never read it before, but remember seeing some Disney book version as well as the movie, both of which were watered down versions of the original story. I vaguely remember colorful pictures from a book and certain scenes from the movie, but I never knew the original story. So I was very surprised to see an illustration of Pinocchio with his feet burned off! And later another illustration of him hanging by the neck from an oak tree while the cat and fox watched impatiently waiting for him to die! And it just keeps getting worse for Pinocchio. He gets turned into a donkey, but comes up lame and gets sold for his skin. The man who bought him ties a big rock to him and throws him over a cliff into the water to drown so that he can cut his skin off to make a drum. He also gets chased, bullied, arrested, and thrown in jail. The moral here is that he's been bad and has to atone to become a real live little boy. To become human, it seems, he has to suffer inhuman treatment. Some pretty sadistic stuff befalls this loveable character, but he perseveres. It's an endearing story, to be sure, but I don't think his suffering matched his crimes. He was just mischievous, not cruel. He took Gepetto's wig off his head as soon as he got hands, he ran from Gepetto as soon as he got legs and feet. Just having a little fun, and for that he had to get burned, hung, jailed, drowned, and more? Pretty rough retribution.



The worst thing Pinocchio did (that I can find) was to kill the Talking Cricket. He did have a temper, at least in the beginning of the story. He meets the Talking Cricket (Jiminy in the Disney story), who tells Pinocchio he is just a marionette and worse, his head is nothing but wood. This so enrages Pinocchio that he picks up a hammer and throws it at the cricket, killing him. No songs about when you wish upon a star.

Now for some background on the origins of Pinocchio. The author, Carlo Collodi was actually Carlo Lorenzini of Florence, Italy. His mother was from the village of Collodi in the Tuscany region. As an author and journalist, he began using the name Collodi for a pseudonym. When nearly 50 years old, he ventured into children’s literature, first with a translation of French fairy tales, and later by authoring a series of tales about the unification of Italy. He consequently became intrigued with the idea of using allegory in his writing and began creating a series in 1880 called Storia di un burattino (The Story of a Marionette), also called Le Avventure di Pinocchio, which was serialized in Il Giornale dei Bambini, a newspaper for children. Children and parents loved the allegorical tales of the ill-behaved puppet’s adventures, but Collodi intended to end the series with Pinocchio being hung by the neck to die by the cat and fox, and left his readers hanging instead. They were none too happy and protested so much that Collodi resumed the story. By 1883, the serialized tales had been collected into a full-length book, which was well-received and became quite popular in Italy. By 1892, the first English edition was published, which was two years after Collodi had died, never knowing how successful his story was destined to become. The Ginn edition, published in Boston, may have been the first American edition, after a false start by Cassell in New York. The president of the company was caught embezzling about the time the book was being published and it never was completed. I can't find another American edition preceding the Ginn edition of 1904. On a related note, it's interesting to learn about how the translations changed through subsequent editions to accommodate the thinking of the times in which those editions were published. In an excerpt from Children's Literature 32 (2004) 226-230, Philip Nel writes in The Transformations of Pinocchio:

Analyzing over a century's worth of Pinocchios, the authors read for the ways in which these versions reflect and respond to the ideological and historical conditions under which they were produced. In doing so, Wunderlich and Morrissey find the abridged versions marketed to schools particularly troubling. As they explain, the Ginn edition of Cramp's translation (1904) was more didactic, omitted references to social class, removed criticism of adults and was "skewed towards industrial moralism" (40). This school edition of Pinocchio responds critically to growing labor unrest, "provid[ing] guidance not only for the child's future work role, but also for the way the child's parents are supposed to act towards their own employers" (39).

Another note of interest concerns the illustrations. The first color illustrations did not appear until 1911 by Attilio Mussino, who is widely acknowledged as having created the definitive Pinocchio. From James Martin at http://goeurope.about.com/cs/italy/a/pinocchio_2.htm I learned that Mussino's last home in Italy was in the town of Vernante, and in the last couple of decades, two townspeople have paid tribute to him by painting murals on local buildings that depict his Pinocchio artwork. Martin includes a photo of the mural depicting Pinocchio about to kill the Talking Cricket:

Industrial Relations 1943: Equal Opportunity Offenders

Perusing the contents of Industrial Relations Handbook, by Aspley & Whitmore, Dartnell 1943, First Edition, I find stereotypes and misconceptions jumping off the pages. "Politically incorrect" would be politely inadequate in describing some of the ideas brought forth in this manual for today's Human Resources manager.


For starters, let's look at employing women in factories and plants where their mode of dress can create issues in the workplace. The authors assert that women hate to wear goggles. The reasoning is hilarious today, and I would think it couldn't have been taken serious 60-something years ago, but who knows. They hate to wear goggles because... "They want men to see their eyes." And, of course, they want men to see their eyes because women know that the next man they see could just turn out to be Mr. Right. Here's the full text of this unbelievable passage (click on the image to enlarge it):


If women's skills and place in the workforce were so chauvinistically treated, what about racial considerations? There is a section in the book titled Negroes in Industry, but this was not written to acknowledge achievement, rather to raise questions about the competence of Negroes in the work place and how hiring can turn out successful. You can almost see the tide trying to turn in thinking, but it is still rooted deeply in the prejudices of the previous centuries.


As this book was published during World War II, caricatures of the enemy were used and deemed appropriate humor for boosting morale. But again, in today's world, a poster like the one at the top of this post depicting a Japanese person, just wouldn't fly.

Book titles foreshadow the hangman's noose

Having just handled these books earlier in the week, oddly enough, their titles became rather topical sounding this morning. No digging in the leaves here--just some quick surface observations of the jacket titles in the wake of Saddam Hussein's execution last night. At a New Year's Eve-Eve-Eve party I attended, the host turned the tv onto a cable news channel, and about 9:00 p.m. C.S.T., somebody in the room alerted the rest of us that he was dead. We looked away (tv on the east wall, no less!) from our drinks and conversations, uttered a few comments--mostly about fears of the effect the news would have on our troops over there--then somebody changed the channel to one of the football bowl games, and life resumed at a cocktail party 7500 miles away. Barely a ripple in the rhythms of a festive evening. I hope for the same for all the troops in harm's way.

The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
- Longfellow

Joyeaux Noel en Provence

Here’s one for Christmas: Little Saints of Christmas: The Santons of Provence, by Daniel J. Foley; Dresser, Chapman & Grimes; Boston, 1959. This book tells the story behind the handcrafted terracotta figurines that have decorated the countryside in Provence, France for centuries at Christmas time. In addition to the traditional manger scene figures, the folk of Provence have included figurines representing themselves--peasant in the field, tradesmen, and artisans--all bearing gifts and paying homage to the Saviour. These figurines have become quite collectible, the author being a collector himself. As has been the tradition for generations, families prepare the crèche, or manger, at Christmas. The santons, which are often handed down from generation to generation, are placed in the crèche. Below are some photos from the book that show the artistry and tradition behind these special figurines.

Merry Christmas!

Hunting a limner in South Africa, 1855

Here’s an intriguing, if not interesting, little book that’s come into my possession: Pen & Ink Sketches in Parliament, by Limner; published by the “Monitor” Office, Castle-Street, Capetown (South Africa) in 1855.

The more I dig into this slim, leather-bound volume, the more interesting it becomes. I wanted to find out who Limner was, and I believe I've discovered an early Victorian satirist named John Leighton, who published under the pseudonym of Luke Limner. Leighton [Limner] not only wrote social satire, he also designed books as well. Seems he came from a line of book people and was a respected designer in his own right. From the University of Rochester's Rare Books & Special Collections, a sample of Leighton's work:


His design skills and interests stretched beyond bookbinding into bookplates. Recently, I found another blog about book plates (see Bookplates with reference to Confessions of a Bookplate Junkie), and I wonder if Mr. Leighton is mentioned there or in links to related sites. Apparently, Leighton was one of the pioneers in bookplate study and collection. He helped found an Ex-Libris Society and published a journal for the society called the Book-Plate Annual.

But it’s his wit that shows through the writing in Pen & Ink Sketches, if he is indeed the author. There is little to the book's design to suggest an artistic undertaking, so it would appear he had little if anything to do with that area of publication. And Leighton certainly fits the time frame, having lived from 1822-1912. The publication date of Pen & Ink Sketches (1855) would have made him about 32 or 33—young and energetic enough to travel to South Africa and stay awhile. That couldn't have been an easy trip. In a section about the himself the author of Pen & Ink Sketches purports to be a much older gentleman, but that could be part of his efforts to remain anonymous.

Much of Leighton's known work seems to have occurred after the Pen & Ink Sketches book was published. As the Exhibition of 1862 approached, London-based Leighton, an illustrator and publisher of some growing reputation was in charge of the committee collecting designs for industrial art for the exhibition.

Back to the book itself, which started all this digging for the pseudonymous author, another intriguing aspect is the section of ads in the back. It offers a good look into the business community of Capetown, South Africa in the 1850s. The colored pages are fascinating to look through for the historian interested in that area. I am neither an historian or particularly interested in that area, but I enjoyed leafing through the ads as a general reader with a lay interest in history. Sample pages follow.

Checkers

Revealing my ignorance here... I was surprised to find this book on the game of Checkers: Lees' Guide to the Game of Draughts or Checkers: Giving the Best Lines of Attack and Defence on the Standard Openings, with Notes and Variations, Revised and Extended by the Late John W. Dawson of Newcastle-on-Tyne; David McKay Company, Philadelphia (1931). Surprised because I always thought of checkers as a simple game that came boxed with about a half-page set of instructions. So here is a 271-page tome, albeit only about 4 X 6 inches in decorative cloth boards with a jillion illustrations and complicated looking diagrams of strategy and maneuvers. Did they confuse this with chess by some chance? And what is "draughts?" Checkers only gets second billing in the title.


Think of checkers and you (I) get an image of old men sitting around the cracker barrel or old Franklin stove in a country store, slowly pondering their next move on the checker board. I don't think of detailed books, with bloated titles, and this one was originally published in 1897. I guess by 1931 (this edition), the game had changed enough in some way to warrant a new edition. Revised and enlarged. What is there to revise about checkers? Perhaps this falls under the heading of "You can't judge a book by its cover."

John Adams' books

An exhibit at the Boston Public Library, titled John Adams Unbound, reminded me of a book on my shelves: The Adams Papers: The Earliest Diary of John Adams, edited by L.H. Butterfield; The Belknap Press of Harvard University, Cambridge, 1966.

I looked through the index for a clue to Adams’ book collection, the kinds of things he liked to read or collect, and any thoughts he may have recorded about a passion for books. By the way, here’s a related article in the Boston Globe. Anyway, I found reference to an entry in a later diary outside the scope of Butterfield’s book, which involved an eager acceptance of book recommendations from a Mr. Tyler.

As a rising young lawyer in 1770, Adams made the acquaintance of Royall Tyler, who recommended an eclectic variety of reading that, Butterfield writes, Adams took quite seriously. I assume this means he bought or borrowed and read these works, which provides insight to the curious and interesting tastes Adams had in books. The titles he took to heart from Tyler included Dr. South’s sermon upon the Wisdom of this World; Fable of the Bees, by Mandeville; Character of a Trimmer, by Halifax; Hurd’s Dialogue upon Sincerity in the Commerce of Life, Machiavelli and Caesar Borgia.

These books are mentioned by Adams in a diary entry dated 1770, August 19—much later than the date ranges for the entries in Butterfield’s Adams Papers. But Butterfield references them in that entry. The actual pages can be viewed online at the web site for the Adams Family Papers at the Massachusetts Historical Society.

This later diary entry lends credence, I believe, to a point Butterfield made of Adams’ persistent self-examination about his intellectual capacity and ability to live up to certain ideals. In other words, it appears self-doubt was constantly creeping up from Adams’ subconscious. And so he countered such negativism by reading classic treatises on law to better grasp the theory of law. He also read the great orators and poets to become artful in “moving the passions of men in a courtroom.”

May not Genius [of a different and lesser kind] be shewn in aranging a Mans Diet, Exercise, Sleep, Reading, Reflection, Writing &c. in the best order and Proportion, for His Improvement in Knowledge?... Patience or a great Superiority to a mans own unsteadiness, is perhaps one of the greatest Marks of Genius. Inatention, Wandering, Unconnected Thoughts, are the opposites to this Patience.

Lest you get the idea that Adams gobbled up books in a voracious manner, below is an interesting passage that seems to dispel that notion by reflecting on his struggle for self-improvement against the procrastination he felt at times. He worried about whether he had the right stuff to achieve the lofty goals he set for himself.

What is this Cause of Procrastination? To day my Stomack is disordred, and my Thoughts of Consequence, unsteady and confused. I cant study today but will begin tomorrow. Tomorrow comes. Well, I feel pretty well, my head is pretty clear, but Company comes in… Ballast is what I want, I totter, with every Breeze. My motions are unsteady…. I have so many Irons in the Fire, that every one burns.

These self-revelations from Adams help to transform him from the dusty pages of history (dusty for the unacquainted such as myself) to a man any of us today could relate to. We all struggle at one point or another with self-doubt, our abilities, goals, or dreams. That one of America’s most revered founding fathers, and second president of the United States, could walk upon such common ground with the rest of us is a bit inspiring for moving beyond those barriers that get in the way at times of achievement. So taking a page from the Adams diary, literally, the way to elevate one's self... books, books, and more books!