Diary of a Young Translator

If you ever read The Iliad in high school, you might have Richmond Lattimore ‘26 to thank. This Dartmouth grad and Rhodes Scholar translated both of Homer’s classics into English, and his versions are widely regarded as some of the best around. He had an incredibly successful career in academia, but what’s more incredible is what he left behind. Rauner has a small collection of his personal journals and translations, and they are unbelievable.

One of the items we possess is his handwritten translations, line for line, of The Iliad chapters 15-22.386. The writing is perfect, with every line representing a line of the text and even this handwritten draft includes detailed line numbers along the margins. Moreover, the draft is hardly corrected; he occasionally crosses out or moves words around to change the meaning of a phrase, but other than that, he sticks to his notes. The pen color changes quite often, so it seems he would sit down and translate around 40 lines on a regular, consistent basis. It’s incredible to look at the control he has, both in the neatness and correctness of this draft. Every stroke is exact and unwavering.

The library also houses his journal from 1938—a small moleskine-like notebook that contains a variety of notes. The book starts with Greek translations, with both the Greek and English texts printed painstakingly in pencil and corrected over in pen. He occasionally changes the direction in which he writes, so you have to keep turning the notebook over to read it. There are daily diary entries from his travels in Europe, collections of his own poetry, which are also neatly written by hand, as well as more work from his Iliad translation. Certain pages just have notes about stress patterns and messages to himself about translation.

Check out Lattimore’s papers by asking for MS-503. A short guide to the collection is available.

Posted for Maggie Baird '18.

Drum-Taps

150 years ago this week, Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.  Walt Whitman responded to the tragedy in a way that many Americans remember each year--though not necessarily on April 15th. Rather, when they catch their first scent of lilac in the spring air.

"When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd" was added to Whitman's Drum-Taps along with "O Captain! my Captain!" and other poems as a "sequel." The rest of the book had already been readied for press, so the additional poems were printed as pamphlet bound in the end of the book. Drum-Taps is a memorial to the Civil War, and the sequel an added memorial to Lincoln. The poem turned out to be one of Whitman's most popular. The opening stanzas evoke loss while celebrating the regeneration of spring.

When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd... and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;
Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.

To read it in its original, ask for Val 816W59 P8.

Petitioning to Dance

Eleazar Wheelock’s vast collection in the Rauner Library contains everything from his early sermons to personal letters and bills, but also includes much of the College’s early history. The charter may be the most emblematic symbol of the College that is represented, but other documents also reveal the early character of the students.

A petition from November 1772 on behalf of the Sophomore and Freshmen classes was submitted to Wheelock by James Hutchinson, Samuel Stebbins, and John Ledyard (yes, that Ledyard ). After a lengthy opening paragraph to butter the president up, the boys requested to be allowed “to spend certain Leisure hours allotted us for the relaxation of our mind--in such sort as, stepping the Minuet & Learning To use the sword.”

This petition is particularly interesting in the context of Moving Dartmouth Forward. One of the more controversial policies of President Hanlon’s plan is the increase in academic rigor, with many students protesting that this institution is rigorous enough. These protests predate the speech, however, by nearly 250 years. Apparently it has been a part of Dartmouth’s character, since its founding, for students to find the college too demanding. Perhaps the students now don’t feel the need to duel and learn to dance, or even call Hanlon “our Patron and our Guide,” but their protests certainly are reminiscent of this petition.

Ask about the document at MS-1310, Folder 772640.

Posted for Maggie Baird '18

By Jupiter!

Some years ago while making clamshell boxes for the Library, I came upon this logbook of the H.M.S. Jupiter, which is one of my favorite items in our collection. Admittedly I have interest in weather and transportation, and these topics intersect in the weather entries found in ships’ logs. But this logbook drew my attention as a physical object. So many of the marks of its history are upon it and not just on the pages. The layers of dirt, oil, and ink spills all contribute to the patina of the warm, natural, earthy tones of the cloth cover, leaving clues to the book’s past life.

It’s surprisingly light and feels good in the hand, despite its larger size. At first glance it appears to have cloth-covered boards, but the fabric is actually sewn over the boards as a protective jacket, which acts much like a modern dust jacket. Though it’s not waterproof this added protection reinforces the notion that this logbook was an important item aboard ship. This home- (or ship-) made imaginative reuse of materials to protect the book highlights the ingenuity of the maker of this jacket. As a book conservator I welcome such historical evidence of protection and repair.

Closer inspection reveals a number of other things about this protective cover, but most of them bring more questions. There is an even sewing pattern where the folded cloth attaches at the fore edge, and it is particularly well executed on the back cover. Whoever sewed this certainly had some knowledge in working with cloth and cord. Was it a sailmaker on board ship? Did most sailors have real skill with a needle? And there is writing on the cloth that looks like it was there prior to its current use, including some numbers and a notation, “I promise to pay… the sum of 20,000…” What is this about? Was the cloth a piece of sailcloth at hand when paper was not? Or was it a grain sack on board for a long journey at sea?

Why do I like this book so much? Perhaps it’s the admiration for the man with the needle, combined with my own imaginings about past voyages, adventure, and the unknown. Come see the book yourself. It is on display with some other Rauner books in conjunction with the Geographies: New England Book Work exhibition in Berry Library’s Main Street exhibition cases through mid-August. After that, you can find it by asking for Codex MS 807107.

Posted for Stephanie Wolff, Preservation Services

A Haggadah for Seder

We recently purchased a rather extraordinary Haggadah printed in Pisa in 1806. It is interesting to think of the original audience for this particular book: a group of Tuscan diaspora Jews in the early 19th century. What was the Seder like where this Haggadah was first present?

What makes this edition so exciting are the eighty woodcut illustrations that take the reader through all phases of Passover.

It starts with the preparation of the household with woodcuts showing a woman readying her home for Passover followed by the Seder itself.

Then, the Haggadah presents the annual retelling of the liberation of the Jews from Egypt. It is a beautifully illustrated epic.

To see the book, ask for Rare BM675.P4A3 1806.

Along the Connecticut

Setting out on the journey

We have so many things that are really cool, but that we know almost nothing about. Take this one for example, Along the Connecticut 1912.  It is a photo album of scenes from the Upper Valley and around Dartmouth campus. The only information we have is the title on the spine with the year and a stamp indicating that it was bound by Alex. Moore, Binder, 11 Hamilton Pl. Boston. Who assembled this?  Who hand tinted most of the photographs?  Who paid to have such a luxurious binding, complete with glassine interleaving for each image? There is no gift plate, and no indication that it was done at Dartmouth.  The only thing we know is that the person who did it loved the area and had money to make it look great.

Our own Webster Hall

The somber, romantic end

As the ice breaks up on the river, come in and enjoy some beautiful summer views "Along the Connecticut" by asking for DC History F12.C7 A46.

Pogo Goes to Dartmouth

A few weeks ago a researcher was in trying to track down an article from Look Magazine about Dartmouth. He knew it was by John Lardner (son of Ring Lardner, Jr.) and an approximate date, but not much more.  We found the article individually cataloged by one of our intrepid archivists of yore. The real thrill was the illustrations by Walt Kelly featuring his legendary character, Pogo.

The article, "The Young Stay Young at Dartmouth," appeared in the June 2, 1953, issue and was unexpectedly timely. As Dartmouth moves to ban hard alcohol from campus, we read that:

The fact is, though, that no one gets very shaky at Dartmouth, on drink. In and out of the fraternities, it is a beer school, not a hard liquor school. To get hard liquor in bottles--New Hampshire being a non-package state--you have to go three miles down the pike and across the Connecticut River into White River Junction, Vt. Few Dartmouth men have the ready cash or the inclination to make this run often, for that purpose.

 To see the article and all of Walt Kelly's illustrations, ask for DC History LD1441.L373.