From Medieval Britain to Dartmouth

This Friday and Saturday, we will be feting our 15th-century Brut Chronicle manuscript with a conference, From Medieval Britain to Dartmouth, organized by Michelle Warren of the Department of Comparative Literature and sponsored by the Leslie Center for the Humanities and the Dartmouth College Library.

To accompany the conference, eight students have collaborated with Professor Warren to curate an exhibition here in Rauner drawing from our Medieval holdings. "Bringing out the Leaves: Manuscripts and their Meaning," looks at manuscripts and early printed books from different vantage points to show how their meanings shift in varying contexts. The exhibit will remain up through June, so even if you can't make it to the conference, you can stop by and see some beautiful manuscripts.

Codex 001969

"Trust No Future"

In 1901, William Carroll Hill published a small volume, Dartmouth Traditions, being a compilation of stories about Dartmouth events and alumni. Within this book, Jedediah Hayward provides “A Dartmouth Tragedy,” the sad tale of the drowning of Henry Ellis Beecher Stowe, eldest son of Harriet Beecher Stowe and the Rev. Calvin Stowe.

Hayward had been badly hazed as a freshman and he and a classmate decided that they would prevent this from happening at least to some members of the next freshman class by being their roommates the following year. To this end, he invited a Thetford Academy senior, Henry Stowe, to room with him in the fall. They became great friends, and Hayward described him as a delightful roommate.

On July 9, 1857, the summer of his freshman year, Stowe and a couple of his classmates took to the Connecticut River, swimming across to the Vermont shore. Once there, they climbed up the bank, across the road, and started picking wild strawberries, until a local resident chased them off.

Stowe’s classmates were able to run to the river and swim across to the sand bar close to the New Hampshire side, but Stowe was too tired to reach the spot where he could stand and was overtaken by the river current. His friends made brave attempts to save him, risking their own lives in the effort, until they, too, became too exhausted to hold on any longer.

There is a copy of the Thetford Academy commencement program in Henry Stowe’s file. He gave an oration the year he graduated: “Trust No Future.”

Ask to see the Alumni File for Henry Stowe, Class of 1860.

Hours in Print

Most people associate books of hours with illuminated medieval manuscripts, not printed books. Throughout the first fifty years of printing, manuscript copies of these prayer books continued to be made. The market demanded luxury items, richly illuminated with gold and hand painted miniatures on soft vellum. The new technology of movable type was not seen as appropriate for these monuments to personal piety.

That changed in 1500 when Paris printer Simon Vostre began creating elaborately illustrated printed books of hours on vellum. This one, printed between 1500 and 1505, contains 18 full-page woodcuts, 30 smaller ones, and historiated woodcut borders on each page. An elaborate dance of death runs though the office of the dead. To "finish" the book, and make it harmonious with his customers' expectations of a book of hours, Vostre had the capitals and line ornaments hand illuminated in gold, red, and blue.

You can see for yourself by asking for Rauner Incun 154.

Ovid in Emblems

This curious edition printed in Lyon in 1564 reduces Ovid's Metamorphoses to a series of exquisitely executed woodcuts. The images, accompanied by only short snippets of text, become emblems for the myths they represent. Ovid was so prevalent in the culture that the publisher could count on his audience knowing the stories, so he could use the Metamorphoses as a vehicle for Bernard Saloman illustrations.

Our copy is bound in limp vellum and lies open in the palm of your hand, feeling almost weightless. We often argue that working with rare books can lead a student to ask questions he or she may never have thought to ask. The tactile and visual experience of this book evokes an ill-defined sense of the past. It sends you back in time and begs you to imagine the original owner holding it in 16th-century France.

Come experience it yourself by asking for Rare PA6523.M2T6 1564.

Reader's Indigest

Shortly after Castro's rise to power, this satirical supplement to La Revista Mella was published in Havana.  Like a kind of anti-Dartmouth Jack-O-Lantern or MAD magazine for revolutionaries, nothing capitalist or imperialist was spared from ridicule. The seemingly tame front cover, with its inspirational quotation from Winston Churchill and a depiction of a hard working European farmer, dissolves into a fierce social critique when opened fully.

The issue goes on to lampoon bastions of middle-class America: Coca-Cola, Reader's Digest, and the Saturday Evening Post.  Despite the anti-capitalistic theme, some of the humor is universal, like the condensed version of Romeo and Juliet, which would not have been out of place on any supermarket shelf.

Come see it by asking for Salaciones del Reader's Indigest, Rare PN 6790.C7 S35

The Hartford Bridge Disaster of 1887

In the frigid early morning hours of Saturday, February 5, 1887, a Vermont Central train, the “night express,” was heading north to Montreal. Having just left the station in White River Junction, it approached the 650-foot long wooden trestle bridge across the White River, four miles north of town. The train consisted of an engine, a baggage car, a mail car, two passenger coaches, a sleeping car from Springfield, Massachusetts, and a Pullman car from Boston. All told, about 80 people were on the train that morning.

There was a jolt as the train approached the bridge abutment. The rear sleeper jumped the tracks and fell from the bridge onto the frozen river 40 feet below, taking with it the three cars ahead of it. These cars uncoupled from the front of the train, which was able to get off the bridge to safety. The impact of the fall scattered the coaches, and they almost instantly caught fire, likely from the burning stoves and oil lamps on board. The burning cars then set fire to the bridge, and it, too, collapsed onto the ice.

The Paine house where the wounded were first taken,
and where Conductor Strutevant died February 6.

Reports indicate that the temperature was nearly 20 below zero, and the ice on the river nearly 2 feet thick, so water was not readily available. Unable to abate the fire, survivors and the volunteers who had rushed to the scene placed their efforts on getting as many people as possible out of the wreckage before the flames made it impossible be near the train. Accounts vary, but approximately 35 people died in the crash and fire, and another 40 were injured, making this the worst rail disaster in Vermont.

South abutment from the ice,
showing broken trucks, etc., in foreground

This photograph of the disaster, along with several others, were taken by Hanover photographer H.H.H. Langell. During the subsequent investigation, he also photographed the section of flawed rail blamed for the accident.

Ask for the "Hartford, Vermont Bridge Disaster" photo file and the "Hartford (Vermont) Bridge Wreck" vertical file to find out more about this incident.

Audubon: Birds, and Mammals Too

As today is the 226th birthday of John James Audubon, it seemed fitting to write an entry about him. Since we've posted previously about the double elephant folio edition of Birds of America and why our set has special meaning here at Dartmouth, we turn to a lesser known, but equally impressive work, Quadrupeds of North America.

After the success of Birds of America, Audubon set out to produce a companion book focusing on American mammals. Drawing the mammals from life was more challenging than it had been with the birds, as many of the animals were nocturnal. In addition, Audubon was becoming increasingly frail and was unable to travel to the extent that the work necessitated. His health failing, Audubon could not complete all of the drawings; his son, John Woodhouse Audubon, did many of them. His son Victor Gilford created the backgrounds and most of the text was written by Rev. John Bachman, a naturalist and clergyman. The last of the three volumes appeared in 1848; Audubon died three years later.

Canada Lynx

Ask for Rauner Rare QL715 .A92 (3 vols.) to see our edition of the Quadrupeds.