Scenes From the Sea

Augustus Alexander Warren was a warrant officer with the United States Navy in the mid-1800s. He was born to a French mother and an English father in Havre, France, in February of either 1826 or 1827. When a young man, Warren emigrated to Kittery, Maine, where he became a U.S. citizen in 1853 and received his commission as a sail-maker with the Navy the same year. Soon after, he set to sea on the USS Decatur to defend Seattle against "all the Indians occupying the Northern portion of the United States." Warren also sailed in support of the Charles Francis Hall Arctic expedition in 1871 and along the coast of South America in the 1880s.

The Warren Papers are a wonderful example of the wondrous variety that can be enclosed within a single-box collection and of the fascinating lives that can be explored through the breadth of documents found therein. Among other things, this box contains the original manuscripts of Warren's sea adventures, his official papers of citizenship and naval commission (the latter signed by Franklin Pierce), many of his letters home, and daguerreotypes of him and two other family members.

Despite these interesting items, what we found most striking are the numerous pencil drawings, some colored and others not, that are a significant part of the collection. As a sail-maker, Warren was by necessity an amateur draftsman; his logbook is filled with precise geometrical illustrations of the numerous types of sails required by navy ships at the time, complete with highly detailed measurements and instructions for constructing them aboard ship. These drawings are complemented by thrilling scenes of ships amid icebergs and touching images of an imagined reunion with his wife upon his eventual return home.

To explore the rich and fascinating depths of one ordinary man's life, humbly contained within a single box, ask at Rauner for MS-868 Box 1. A finding aid for the collection is available.

"A Seventeenth-Century Emblem Book"

Last week, Dick Hoefnagel, a longtime friend of the Dartmouth College Library, passed away. In his memory, today we blog one of his favorite books from the collection: one he admired, wrote about, and connected with personally. The book is an exquisitely executed seventeenth-century emblem book with hand-colored engravings and text in manuscript.

According to Hoefnagel's research published in the Library Bulletin 11/1 (November 1970), the engravings were signed by Jean Dolivar, a Spanish artist born in 1641, and the nephew of Jean Lepaute, one of the great masters of the Louis XIV style. Illustrated here is Emblem I described by Dick thusly:

This emblem contrasts the perishable felicities of life on earth with the eternal bliss of heaven. The symbolism is conventional and includes the ancient belief that laurel, usually representing virtue, is never struck by lightning. The choice of the number twelve in the crown of stars may have a biblical derivation (the tiara of the traveling woman of St. John, Revelation 12:1-6; the twelve patriarchs of Israel) or refer to the ultimate origin of such symbolisms, namely the astrological system of the twelve constellations of the Zodiac.

It is a beautiful book and worth your time. Come in and ask for Codex Manuscript 002066.

A Personal Letter from Beethoven

When the name Beethoven is mentioned, you probably think of one of his many compositions and start humming. You think about him being deaf when he composed the Symphony No. 9 in D minor. You might even think about the mystery woman - his "Immortal Beloved." And that's usually where it stops. Right?

Rauner has one letter from Beethoven to Christoph August Tiedge from September, 1811. It's a small window into Beethoven's personal life and his interactions with friends and acquaintances. In it he discusses his meeting with Tiedge and bemoans the fact that they did not become friends sooner. He  writes "Every day I blow myself up for not having to got to know you sooner at Teplitz" and goes on to mention that he would like to "hop over to the capital of Saxony" to see Tiedge again and that he has decided not to visit his patron the Archduke.

...I received a letter from my gracious and musical Archduke saying that...he was letting me decide whether I should go to him or not. Well, I put the best construction on this in accordance with my intentions and desires; and that is why you see I am still here...

Beethoven then rambles on a bit about his room-mate having "got lost today...and so I could not claim his company." He closes with "I am expecting at least one word without any reserve, chiefly because I can take it."

The letter is in German, but a transcription is housed with the manuscript.  Ask for Mss 811506.

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.