Restrained Extravagance

In 1897, Charles Ashbee set up the Essex House Press. He hired many of the craftsmen originally employed by William Morris at the Kelmscott Press to pursue his own utopian dream of art, craft and labor united. Like Morris before him, he espoused a socialist ideal and actually put it into practice in his worker-owned shop. But also like Morris, the output of his press was far too expensive for the working class.

This edition of Robert Burns's Tam-O'Shanter (London: Essex House Press, 1902) is a case in point.  It was designed and printed to meet the exacting standards of a select and wealthy bibliophile audience. Printed on vellum with hand illumination (yes, that's gold in the letter C) only 150 copies were produced for firms of Edward Arnold in London and Samuel Buckley in New York to sell their clientele.

The book is a model of restrained extravagance that is aesthetically positioned between the over-the-top typography of Kelmscott and the austerity of Doves Press. It is a book that draws you in with its beauty but invites you to read with its clean presentation of the text.

You can see it in the context of the Kelmscott Press between now and August 30th in the Class of 1965 Galleries in Rauner Library in the exhibit When Adam Delved and Eve Span: William Morris and the Politics of the Book.  After August 30th, ask for Presses E78bu.

Declaration of Independency

By 1776, Dartmouth College had been operating in Hanover for nearly six years, its student body had expanded from the 4 original students who came north with Eleazar Wheelock to about 90, and significant growth also had occurred in the population of the town. Clearly, Wheelock's enterprise was off to a very successful start.

However, with unrest growing between the colonies and Great Britain, the College feared breaks with its patrons and the resulting financial hardships. New Hampshire's Royal Governor John Wentworth, who had been instrumental in the College acquiring its charter in 1769 and on many occasions in disagreement with the Crown on its handling of the colonies, nevertheless had been forced to leave New Hampshire, perceived as a loyalist.

On June 16, 1776, John Phillips, prosperous and influential businessman, Dartmouth Trustee and, several years later, founder of Phillips Exeter Academy, wrote to President Wheelock from Exeter. He and other trustees in that area had determined it was unsafe to travel to Hanover for Commencement. He also mentioned that he had seen the Declaration of Independence:

"I have just now seen the Declaration of Independency, and perhaps it will not be long before we shall experience whether we are able to support it - or whether the measures taken by Government on both sides will not be ruinous - The Lord in mercy prevent it, and make us mutual blessings to and [not] destroyers of one another."

It is not completely evident how an Exeter merchant, albeit an important one, would have had access to the document. On the other hand, some scholars contend that there were dozens of declarations and legislative acts relating to separating from Great Britain issued by individual colonies prior to the document drafted and adopted by the Continental Congress in July. Could Phillips be referring to a New Hampshire effort? We would like to believe that he is speaking of THE declaration!

Ask for D.C. Hist Mss 776366.

Homeless Treasures

There are some universal truths about working in the Archives, one being that at some point you will receive an item that is just too lovely not to keep, but which has no direct connection to the College, so you have no idea how to handle it. Rather than make a hasty decision, you place it on a shelf in your office until you retire, passing your indecision along to your successor, who pays the favor forward by giving it to her assistant, who, rapidly approaching retirement age herself, is determined to do better by her replacement. Case in point, the Legion d'Honneur, Chevalier, which we believe was presented to Margaret DeWitt Benedict in 1949 for her service to France during the two world wars.

Margaret DeWitt Benedict was the daughter of LeGrand Benedict of the New York Stock Exchange, and granddaughter of James Benedict, President of the Chicago and Atlantic Railroad. Like many women of her station in life, she engaged in philanthropic activities. During World War I, Miss Benedict went to France with the Anne Morgan Volunteer Group, and remained there to found and direct the American Hospital of France. She was also founder of the Junior Guild of the American Cathedral of Paris.

The Legion d'Honneur, France's highest decoration, was established by Napoleon in 1802. Anne Morgan, mentioned above and the daughter of J. P. Morgan, was the first American woman to be appointed a commander of the French Legion of Honor. Her organization, The American Friends of France, organized health services and provided basic necessities to non-combatants during WWI. Morgan returned to France in 1939 to assist evacuees.

Prior to all her work in France, Anne Morgan was co-founder, with Eleanor Robson Belmont, of the Society for the Prevention of Useless Gift Giving (SPUG), an attempt to reduce the indiscriminant purchasing of Christmas presents, especially by people who could ill-afford them, and lead people to embrace the true spirit of the season. As the organization evolved (it existed until about 1940), its philosophy extended to the recipients of gifts as well, encouraging people to get rid of items they received that were neither useful nor beautiful.

So, after much research on our Legion d'Honneur, I now have a handful of names: LeGrand and James and Margaret DeWitt Benedict, Anne Morgan, Eleanor Robson… none of whom I can connect to Dartmouth… and advice from SPUG about not throwing away anything beautiful. Perhaps it’s best to hope that the next Archives Supervisor likes this medal as much as I do.

"Hastily executed & altogether immature"

One of the joys of working in Rauner is stumbling on something that takes your breath away. That just happened with these two books by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: a first edition of An Essay on Mind (London: James Duncan, 1826) and a first edition of Prometheus Bound (London: A. J. Valpy, 1833). They were both gifts from Elizabeth Barrett Barrett (as she called herself before her marriage) to John Kenyon, a cousin and confidant. It was Kenyon that introduced her to many prominent literati of the time, but who also arranged for her first meeting with Robert Browning. That private meeting in her rooms on Wimpole Street started one of the most famous literary romances of the nineteenth century.

Elizabeth wrote out her autobiographical poem "The House of Clouds" on the back flyleaves of Prometheus Bound and also included the self-effacing inscription:

For this version, which is cold stiff &
meagre, unfaithful to the genius if
servile to the letter of the great poet,
too hastily executed & altogether immature,
the translator's only apology is--
her remorse.
EBB

 

Tipped into the copy of An Essay on Mind is a long note from Barrett to Kenyon commenting on this work, on Prometheus Bound, and thanking him for taking her sister to Strawberry Hill. At some point, John Kenyon gave both books to George Ticknor (Dartmouth 1807) and added a personal inscription to An Essay on Mind:

Printed when the Writer--EB. Barrett was only seventeen--She wishes that it had never been printed--I on the contrary--as her friend and relation--feel proud of it as a work of extraordinary power, and of a promise which she has far more than justified--The smaller poems--some of them--appear to me of exquisite beauty.

To see them ask for Ticknor VA B82p and Ticknor PR4190.E8 1826. The letter is separately cataloged but still in the book: Ticknor MS 842231.

Judging an Author by His Covers

Over the past year, Shan Williams '12 has been processing our extensive collection of Erskine Caldwell's papers. This is the last week of her internship, so in her honor we look at the ups and downs of Caldwell's career as reflected in his book covers.

When God's Little Acre came out in 1933, it was packaged as serious literature. Viking treated him as a brave voice in American letters on par with Ernest Hemingway, Sherwood Anderson and Mark Twain. His proletariat fiction resonated with the left-leaning literati and critics loved his stark realism.

By the late 1950s, Caldwell's star was dimming. His books were still known, but had become more famous for the violent sexual scenes that got them banned in many localities. The covers reflect the change by accentuating the raging passions in lurid covers. And, of course, there was a chance for a movie tie-in (yes, that is Ginger from Gilligan's Island).

By the 1970s, Caldwell's books had slipped into the past for most Americans, though they maintained a worldwide audience. It was not until the 1990s that the resuscitation process began when the University of Georgia Press reissued his most famous works. Gone were the flashy covers and sensational blurbs: they were replaced by Walker Evans's photographs and statements like "What William Faulkner implies, Erskine Caldwell records."  What had been a dirty book transformed again into high culture.

Come in and take a look by asking for
God’s Little Acre (New York: Viking, 1933) Caldwell 182
God’s Little Acre (New York: Signet, 1958) Caldwell 180
God’s Little Acre (London: Pan, 1960) Caldwell 172
Guds Lille Åker (Oslo : Ernst G. Mortensens Forlag, 1982) Caldwell PS 3505 .A322 G66 1982
God’s Little Acre (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1995) Caldwell PS 3505 .A322 G6 1995

Bookending Dartmouth Row

On July 25, 1884, the cornerstones for two buildings were laid during a long afternoon ceremony. The first was for Rollins Chapel, just to the North of Wentworth Hall, the other was for the new library, Wilson Hall, just across Wheelock Street from Reed Hall. Together they bookend the Classical Dartmouth Row with their Romanesque arches.

The two buildings symbolically and physically defined a space for learning. They framed the main classroom spaces with a site for the mind on one side and a haven for the soul on the other: somewhere between was where "learning" happened. One year after the cornerstones were laid, alumni, students and "friends of the College" assembled for the dedication of the two buildings. The glory of the new chapel was celebrated with prayer and song, and the new library was extolled for its modern, fireproof stacks. But nothing was said about the space between.

A great way to start exploring the history of these building is by asking for their archival vertical files, but also be sure to see the Dedication of Rollins Chapel and Wilson Hall (Hanover: Printed for the College, 1886) by asking for DC History LD1440.R6 D3.

South Vietnam Land and People

We recently acquired an interesting example of propaganda produced by the North Vietnamese in 1967.  Mien Nam Viet Nam. Cat Nuoc, con Nguoi [South Vietnam Land and People] was published by the Liberation Publishing House in Hanoi and distributed to western visitors. It consists of three portfolios of images produced by North Vietnamese artists.

The message celebrating the "Resistance War" is clear:

Napalm, phosphorus, rockets, super-bombers, expanding bullets, toxic gasses--the American command in South Vietnam recoils from none of these and any other means of extermination.... Against such unbridled barbarism, the Vietnamese people have successfully defended their freedoms. Against one of the most colossal war machines ever known to history, "people's war" is being fought with valiance and creativeness, combining bamboo spears with anti-tank guns--a war in which a young mother's persuasive voice just as a ten-year-old boy's inquiring looks, also are weapons.

The portfolios were printed in bulk, but few complete copies have survived. Our prints are still housed in their original portfolios.

To see it, ask for Rare DS557.72.M54 1967.