Context is (almost) Everything

We have a pretty cool letter from Charles Darwin in the collection. It opens simply enough with "Dear Sir," but the name of the recipient is nowhere to be found. The letter came to us tucked into a first edition of On the Origin of Species that was donated by Perc Brown in 1956. In 1964, the undated letter came to the attention of an alumnus who was also a collector of Darwin materials. He dove into the letter and did some amazing detective work to figure out who the letter was written to: all he knew was content of the letter--it was sent to someone who had recently written a review of On the Origin of Species, and it counters some of the arguments made in the review. His research, that took months, included examining the watermark to determine when the letter was likely written, corresponding with a Darwin specialist at the University of Wisconsin, and working with two librarians at the American Museum of Natural History, all from his home in Cleveland, Ohio.

By piecing together all of the clues, our intrepid investigator figured it out. With some certainty, he declared that the letter was most likely sent to Andrew Murray who had published a review in the Edinburgh New Philosophical Review.  We read his paper and were impressed. Then we noticed something very interesting. On the half-title of the book that Perc Brown donated--the book that the letter was slipped into--is the signature of none other than Andrew Murray.

Our poor investigator! Had he just looked into the context of the letter, rather than concentrating solely on its content, he would have had a smoking gun clue right from the start. Confirming that Murray had written a review would have been pretty quick and painless. But then, think of all of the fun he wold have missed out on!

To see the letter ask for MS 000566. To see the On the Origin of Species, ask for Rare QM365 .O2 1859.

Lousy with Literary Distinction & Poetry

Oh goodness, we have once before blogged an instance of author Kenneth Roberts expressing his disdain for a bit of literature in his epic take down of one of Mark Twain's essays, but this week we learned of another moment of vitriol in the margins. This time it is directed at the best seller by Walter Edmonds, Drums Along the Mohawk. To say Roberts hated it is being too gentle.

He had been asked by the Atlantic Monthly to review the book, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he kept his comments private, within his copy of the book. To start, he re-titled his copy "Bums along the Mohawk," then he offered up a fake blurb by the popular critic and selector for the Book-of-the-Month Club,  Dorothy Canfield Fisher: "Lousy with literary distinction & poetry." As evidence he cites the sentence, "Large squashy flakes of snow, falling steadily, made it hard for him to see what the soldiers were hauling west from the fort into the woods."

But his dark sarcasm is best expressed in a note pointing out a small typo. In the "Author's Statement." After boasting of his deep research, Edmonds states "Naturally, for spaces of time, no data were available, and there I had to relie on my own knowledge of our climate." Roberts circled the misspelled "relie" then caustically added, "Not a bad way to spell it, under the circumstances."

To take a look come in and ask for Roberts Library PZ3 E242 Dr copy 3.

Hiding in Plain Sight

We have blogged a couple of times in the past about the giant Antiphonal we keep out in the reading room. It is one of those very impressive, and very sturdy, manuscripts that are perfect for people stopping by who just want to see something old and cool.

But last week a student who is working on a transcription project pointed out something we had never seen. In the upper right corner of the verso of folio 29 is a little box (for a solo, we think?) containing the famous Biblical reference to Isaiah that Eleazer Wheelock adopted as Dartmouth's motto: Vox clamantis in deserto.

We have always been partial to the pages of the Antiphonal with decorative initials, but now folio 29 might be our new favorite.  Come in and take a look!

Pozzo's Lasting Perspective

On Monday, students from Elizabeth Kassler-Taub's Early Modern Art History class made their second visit to Rauner. During their visit, they had the chance to look at a variety of early modern architectural treatises, including a sumptuous 1719 edition of Andrea Pozzo's Perspectiva Pictorum et Architectorum. Pozzo, who lived from 1642 until 1709, was the definition of a Renaissance man (although he technically operated within the Baroque period): Jesuit brother, architect, painter, and stage set designer were but a few of his identities. His Perspectiva is a stunning example of his skill with and comprehension of the visual arts. The manual was one of the first to provide instructions on how to accomplish realistic perspective in painting and satisfying proportions in architectural design. The book went on to be a huge success; it was printed in at least six languages and new editions continued to come out well into the 19th century.

To explore the beautiful engravings on perspective that accompany Pozzo's writing, or to read it for yourself if you can, come to Special Collections and ask for Rare NC749 .P8 1719.

Real Character

This book is something else. It is titled An Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophical Language, by John Wilkins of the Royal Society and printed in 1688. From the title, you would think it is about language and materiality, maybe with a bit of a metaphysical twist. But then you open it up and realize it is trying to do so much more. It seems to be an attempt to get the whole of creation tamed and under control in some sort of analytical system.

Everything is broken down and sorted in cascading charts of creation. We are talking about EVERYTHING--comets, rainbows, garden cress, dog-fish, and even clauses and sentences.

As an added bonus, there is a fairly long analysis of Noah's Ark thrown in--makes sense, I guess, when you think of what the author was trying to do.

Come take a look by asking for Rare P101 .W4 1668.

Alice's Adventures in Transatlantic Publishing

Last week a 19th-century English literature class came to visit us in Special Collections, and we had the chance to show them our first published English edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll). We say "first published," because the actual first edition had such flawed misprinting of the accompanying images that John Tenniel, the illustrator, insisted that they be recalled and the edition suppressed. Carroll retrieved the advance copies that he had distributed to friends and instead shipped them off to orphanages. Today, there are only twenty-three remaining copies of this flawed first edition and (spoiler!) we don't have one.

However, we do have something almost as good. The publishing house, Macmillan and Company, had already invested in the printing and binding of 2,000 copies of the first edition, flawed images and all. So, to attempt to recoup their losses, and with Lewis's permission, they disbound the remaining withdrawn editions and sent the text blocks to the United States, where the New York publishing house D. Appleton & Company rebound them and inserted a fresh title page. Apparently, what wasn't good enough for English audiences was more than adequate for American ones. Here in Special Collections, we have copies of both the "first" English and first American editions, which allows us to compare the illustrations to see if Tenniel was on to something or merely being fussy. We'll let you decide for yourselves (the flawed original printing is on the left):

Another exciting little detail about one of our copies is that it was a presentation copy. Inside the flyleaf, there is a dedication to "Ethel Reid," dated November 18th, 1865, and signed with the monogram "C.L.D." Given the date of the dedication, it is likely that this was a replacement volume for one of the initial fifty copies that Dodgson had requested early in order to give to friends. A letter accompanying our presentation copy, written by by Carroll biographer Sidney H. Williams in 1925, speculates that Ethel may have been one of the numerous children with whom Carroll was acquainted.

To see our presentation copy of the first published English edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, come to Special Collections and ask to see Val 825 D66 O215. To look at the first American edition, ask for Rare PZ8.D666 A1c.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

The first-year medical students at the Geisel School of Medicine visited Special Collections last week as a part of their On Doctoring course that introduces medical students to essential clinical skills through small group learning experiences. The course focuses on patient interviewing, physical diagnosis, clinical reasoning, and communication skills in developing the doctor-patient relationship. Here in Special Collections, we put some of those skills to the test by asking them to apply their powers of observation, interpretation, critical thinking, and communicating to historical documents from the archives.

One grouping of materials that the med students explored focused on 19th-century drug ads, including those found in a small pamphlet titled Hood's Sarsparilla Book of Parlor Games. This sixteen-page publication, generated by C. I. Hood & Co. Apothecaries out of Lowell, Massachusetts, has the stated goal of being "for the public benefit, to promote social enjoyment and good morals, [and] to give good health and cure disease." It's chock-full of fun games for boys and girls to play, with the instructions often right next to or leading directly into testimonials about the healing power of sarsaparilla. For example, one game called "Copenhagen" is played as follows: "A long piece of rope is passed around the room, each of the company taking hold on the outside, except one, who is called 'the Dane,' and remains in the centre. He endeavors to slap the hands of those who have hold of the rope, and if he succeeds, the person whose hands are slapped takes the place of the 'Dane.' Hood's Sarsaparilla purifies the blood."

Non-sequiturs notwithstanding, this little book is a fascinating glimpse into health and recreation in New England in the late nineteenth century. To pick up some new party games for your next big event, or to learn more about how sarsaparilla can cure everything from boils to malaria, come to Special Collections and ask for a dose of Rare RM671.C5 H6.