Full of Hot Air

This paper lantern balloon from the 1888 Presidential campaign of Benjamin Harrison and his running mate Levi Morton was a common form of campaign advertising ephemera in the 1870s and 80s. Used in evening torchlight parades, the balloon was formed over a wire frame on the end of a long stick with an oil lantern inside. Needless to say, this combination of paper and flame (and their close proximity to one another) virtually ensured the future rarity of these lanterns, if not the short lived terror of the bearer of the stick should a breeze blow unfavorably.

One segment of the balloon has the bastardized slogan "Tippecanoe and Morton too," a play on Benjamin Harrison's father's successful 1840 campaign for the Presidency in which "Tippecanoe and Tyler too" became a famous slogan and song. Benjamin Harrison, who lost the popular vote, but won the electoral college, would have considerably more luck than his father in carrying out the duties of the highest office of the land. William Henry Harrison died a mere 30 days after his famously long inauguration speech in inclement weather. The log cabin motif was also meant to harken back to William Henry Harrison's portrayal of himself as a rugged and frugal frontier everyman despite his genteel southern upbringing and wealth.

With both the Republican and Democratic conventions upon us it bears remembering, while we watch two wealthy urban candidates attempt to manufacture a common man appeal, that there is nothing new under the sun where politics are concerned.

This lantern, as well as a number of other pieces spanning the years 1841 to 1973, is currently on display in the Class of 1965 Galleries in Rauner Library as part of an exhibit on political campaigns and political action.

You can find the lantern and other interesting campaign materials in the the Ralph E. and William W. Becker Collection of American Political Campaign Materials.

Inhabitants Inside the Earth!

In the mid-19th century, when urban dwellers in the United States began to venture into nature for the sake of relaxation rather than conquest, the White Mountains offered an obtainable, yet nicely civilized destination. Once there, tourists were welcomed into luxurious hotels surrounded by breathtaking views and enlivening hikes. They were also met by local color looking for a good audience.

John Merrill was a eccentric tour guide. He set up in Franconia Notch on "The Pool" where he would entertain tourists by showing them the sights and explaining his theories. Boston Rare Maps did some research and found this from the November 1867 Yale Literary Magazine:

Here is an old man in a barge, into which you enter, and he paddles you around the narrow circuit of the Pool. When you have reached the side toward the Falls, where the water is from twenty to thirty feet deep, but clear as crystal, he begins to unfold to you his favorite theory; (for you must know that, in his own estimation at least, the old man is quite a philosopher;) that the earth is a hollow sphere, inhabited on the inside, as well as the outside. He maintains his position by arguments entirely original and irrefutable; has an answer ready for every question, and seeks to proselyte you. He reads a letter he pretends to have received from Queen Victoria,-which here I insert.

Merrill issued the letter as a broadside, Royal Despatch of Her Majesty to Hon. John Merrill, Flume House, N.H. (East Canaan: G. F. Kimball, Printer, [1857]), perhaps to hand out to converts, or perhaps to sell for support of his theories.

We have two variations of the broadside--one containing another letter by Louis Napoleon.  Come judge the validity yourself by asking for Rauner Broadside 001457 or visiting the Pool and looking into its depths.

The Mating Habits of Unicorns

In 1671, publisher and writer John Ogilby created a compendium of all relevant information about the New World. In true 17th-century form, the title boasts of the book's expansive mission: America: Being the Latest, and Most Accurate Description of the New World; Containing the Original of the Inhabitants, and the Remarkable Voyages thither, the Conquest of the Vast Empires of Mexico and Peru, and other Large Provinces and Territories, with Several European Plantations in those Parts. Also Their Cities, Fortresses, Towns, Temples, Mountains, and Rivers. Their Habits, Customs, Manners, and Religions. Their Plants, Beasts, Birds, and Serpents. With an Appendix containing, besides several other considerable Additions, a brief Survey of what hath been discovered of the Unknown South-Land and the Arctick Region (London, 1671). Ogilby never traveled to the New World, so the book is based on travel accounts he had read ("Collected from most Authentick Authors").

The book is full of awesome weirdness. You can just picture Ogilby in London trying to sort out the various accounts to determine what was real, what was not, and what might help sell books. One account he found compelling enough to reproduce as fact, and even illustrate, was a description of a "strange beast" living on the borders of Canada. It "hath some resemblance with a Horse, having cloven feet, shaggy Mayn, one Horn just on their forehead, a tail like that of a wild Hog, black Eyes, and a Deers Neck." Observers not only saw this mythical beast, they were able to note its strange habits:

...it feeds in the nearest Wildernesses: the Males never come amongst the Females except at the time when they Couple, after which they grow so ravenous, that they not only devour other Beasts, but also one another.

Come see for yourself by asking for McGregor 129 (the unicorn is on page 173).

Oooh... Salty

If you didn't make it to the beach this summer, we have the book for you. Maggie Puckett's Salty reeks of the ocean even though it was printed in Chicago. For the most part, it is an artist's book of blank pages, but they are imbued with meaning... and salt.  It was an experiment as part of the artist's work at Columbia College's Center for Book and Paper Arts.

The artist's statement tells readers that "To experience Salty you must lick it." it goes on to explain:

The salty taste of the paper, embedded with extra coarse sea salt and produced in salty water, is meant to mimic the experience of tasting seawater.

Salty was created out of a desire to experiment with paper made in seawater. The salt may affect the paper's archival qualities, but suggests an alternative source of water for papermaking studios located in drought-stricken but coastal area.

The book is bound using dried squid tentacles. We gave it a lick to see what the experience would be. It was not pleasant. To be true to the book's purpose we will allow visitors to take a taste if they dare. Salt is a powerful preservative, so we think the salt in the paper will wipe out most germs, but it is taste at your own risk.

Close up of the paper

We are in the process of cataloging the book, but the record will eventually be located here. Once it is ready, come in and give it a taste, or just hold it up and smell the sea.

Aleister Crowley - Patriot?

Known best for his involvement in the occult and reputation as the "wickedest man in the world," Aleister Crowley also appears to have had something of a patriotic streak - or a healthy dose of cynicism and a good command of propaganda technique.

In 1942 Crowley penned a short poem called La Gauloise. Subtitled "The Song of the Free French" the piece praised the courage and determination of the members of the French Resistance. Eventually used by the BBC as lyrics for a patriotic song, it was a none too subtle call to continue the struggle against the Nazis and a reminder that England and France were united in purpose and spirit - at least in this war. It's ironic that Crowley, given his public persona, could seemingly be so moved by a sentiment not overtly self-serving and with no apparent personal reward. True feeling or not?

Also included on the title page is the phrase Createur de signe V which references Crowley's claim to have invented the famous gesture, used by Winston Churchill and others, as a counter to the swastika symbol.

Our copy is the second edition (also published in 1942) and the subtitle is slightly modified to "The Song of the Fighting French."  Ask for Rauner Rare Book PR 6005 .R7 G3.

Bunyan Metamorphosized

John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim's Progress first appeared in 1678 but remained enormously popular for hundreds of years. In the 19th century it was staple stock for New England printers. Our many unpretentious volumes, often in tatters and occasionally colored by an enthusiastic youth, physically manifest the story's role in the moral education of the country’s youth.

As you might expect, we have dozens of different editions of the book, but two favorites are adaptations designed to reach wider audiences. "Metamorphosis" editions for children, like this one from Hartford, Connecticut, used folding flaps to reveal the Pilgrim’s progress. Much rarer, is a copy translated into Cantonese for missionary use. Not only is the text translated, but the characters are as well: the pilgrim becomes Chinese in costume and setting.

To see  Bunyan's Pilgrims Progress, "exhibited in a metamorphosis" ask for 1926 B86b 1821; the Cantonese Tian lu li cheng is available by requesting Rare PR3330 A738 1871.

Mencken Uncrated

H. L. Mencken rarely spared anyone's feelings in his writing during his life, so it was with great anticipation that his autobiographical writings were unsealed 35 years after his death. What could be so inflammatory that it had to wait for a generation to pass? Mencken deposited manuscript copies of his two autobiographies, My Life as Author and Editor, and Thirty-Five Years of Newspaper Work, with three libraries:  the Enoch Pratt Free Library in Baltimore (where the bulk of his papers are held), the New York Public Library, and the Dartmouth College Library. Dartmouth was honored with a copy because of Mencken's close relationship with Dartmouth alumnus Richard Mandel '26 and professor Herb West.

With tools in hand, Dartmouth President James O. Freedman, Special Collections Librarian Phil Cronenwett, and Special Collections Library Assistant John Schwoerke, cut the metal bands sealing the wooden crates and unleashed Mencken's final critical look at the America he loved and feared.  They used them to complete an exhibition "Mencken Uncrated" that opened two weeks earlier. The two autobiographies were published in 1993 and 1994.

Along with the typescripts, we preserved one of the crates. You can see them by asking for Realia 218 and ML 693.