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.

Be Mine

Happy Valentine's Day! Rooting around in the collections we found an awesome batch of very frilly Valentine cards from the 1880s and 1890s that once belonged to Mary Fletcher of Hanover. They show the maturation of the genre--cheap color printing had come to America not long before these cards were produced, and that offered the opportunity to commodify the holiday. Wait, this isn't about commerce, this is about true love!

Come in and decide for yourself by asking for the Vertical file, "Christmas Cards and Greeting Cards: Valentines."

Good Lord, Alfred

Good Lord, Tennyson! We were just looking up a poem from Tennyson published in 1851, and stumbled on this frontispiece for the American edition of Poems published by Ticknor and Fields. Such a daring and romantic gentleman--the flowing locks, the aristocratic nose, the handsome, brooding look. I say, "now that's a poet if I ever saw one!"

It is fun to contrast it with the famous frontispiece for Walt Whitman's 1855 Leaves of Grass. The worker, man of the people, looking you in the eye daring you to read his poems. The democratic ideal with his open shirt front versus Queen Victoria's poet Laureate sporting his gentleman's collar.

Come read the poems--the differences are more than skin deep. You can see the Tennyson by asking for Ticknor LE T25p, and the Whitman by requesting Val 816 W59 S8.

A Sea Serpent Near Boston?

Diagram of the supposed
Gloucester Sea Serpent.

You’ve likely heard of Scotland’s famous aquatic cryptid who lives in Loch Ness, but what about the Gloucester sea serpent, which was said to have frequented the coast of Massachusetts a mere 30 miles north of Boston? The massive creature was supposedly sighted by multitudes of fishermen and townspeople in August of 1817, leading to a scientific investigation by the Linnaean Society of New England which sought to determine the “existence and appearance” of the beast. Here at Rauner, we house the official report which was produced after a committee questioned 11 witnesses regarding the Gloucester sea serpent’s size, coloring, and behavior.

In honor of this year’s Winter Carnival theme - "A Blizzard of Unbelievable Beasts" Rauner is hosting an interactive exhibit featuring books from the Renaissance through the 19th-century which document the many fantastic beasts - from unicorns to griffons to sea serpents - which were thought to roam the less-explored lands and oceans around the globe.  One of our favorite items which will be on display this afternoon for our “Unbelievable Beasts” exhibit is the aforementioned Gloucester sea serpent report, titled “Report of a Committee of the Linnaean Society of New England Relative to a Large Marine Animal, Supposed to be a Serpent, seen near Cape Ann, Massachusetts in August 1817.”

The Linnaean Society of New England (1814–1822) was established in Massachusetts, to promote the study of natural history. The Society ran a science museum, arranged lectures on topics ranging from mineralogy to ornithology, and excursions for its members. Before it became a central figure in the so-called “Gloucester sea serpent debate”, in the summer of 1816, society members travelled through Hanover on their way to explore New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Whilst in New Hampshire, the group surveyed Mount Monadnock and Ascutney among others, studying their mineral composition and searching for new species (they documented 4 new species of plants).

On August 18th, 1817, the Linnaean Society convened to investigate reports of an extraordinary “sea serpent” which had been making waves (pun intended) around Gloucester and Cape Ann, Massachusetts. The group formed an investigative committee which created systematic questionnaires, each containing 25 targeted questions meant to ascertain the nature of the sea serpent, including “How many distinct portions were out of the water at one time?” and “Had it gills and breathing holes, and where?” Within a few days after the initial sightings had been reported, the three committee members and the “Honorable Lonson Nash of Glouchester” met with 11 locals who professed actually to have seen the animal in question, first asking them to explain everything they remembered from the sea serpent encounter, and then recorded their responses to targeted questions. In order to keep the report as ‘scientific’ as possible, the examinations were done separately, and “the matter testified by any witness (was) not to be communicated until the whole evidence was taken.”

According to eyewitnesses, the serpent was between “eighty and ninety feet in length and about the size of a half barrel, apparently having joints from its head to its tail.” Contrary to the typical renditions of glistening green sea serpents, the majority of the accounts describe the creature as a dull dark brown without any spots. The creature was capable of moving at extraordinary speeds, as according to one testimonial it could “travel a mile or two in three minutes” and even faster underwater. Although the serpent was observed during midday in most cases, it’s rather shy nature and quick movements made it difficult for any of the observers to get a good look at its facial features. Despite a general consensus on it’s large size, scaly skin, and fast undulating movements, it’s face looked “much like the head of a sea turtle” to one observer, yet “formed something like the head of the rattlesnake, but nearly as large as the head of a horse” to another fishermen who observed it the same day. The committee members asked witnesses whether they’d possibly mistaken other natural phenomena for a serpent, including “a number of porpoises following each other in a train”, but the answer was always a resounding “no.” As one witness responded, “I was in a boat, and within thirty feet of him… I could see his scales.” To those who testified, there was apparently no doubt that they had encountered a large serpentine beast.

Although most of the Gloucester sea serpent encounters documented in our committee report were rather uneventful - often involving the animal swimming by and occasionally stopping at the surface of the water to apparently rest and survey its surroundings - the seventh witness, Matthew Gaffney, had a rather frightening experience. Gaffney, a ship carpenter from Gloucester, recalled that on August 14th, 1817, he saw the sea serpent between 4 and 5 o’clock in the afternoon when he was out in the harbor sailing his personal vessel with his brother Daniel and friend Augustin Webber. As Gaffney explains it, “I was within thirty feet of him. His head appeared full as large as a four-gallon keg; his body as large as a barrel, and his length that I saw, I should judge forty feet, at least…. I fired at him, when he was nearest to me. I had a good gun, and took good aim. I aimed at his head, and think I must have hit him. He turned towards us immediately after I had fired...he was coming at us.” The scene didn’t end with an epic Jaws-worthy fight however, for as soon as the creature was hit it “sunk down and went directly under our boat, and made his appearance at about one hundred yards from where he sunk… (he) continued playing as before.” Gaffney was incredulous that he was unable to kill or otherwise wound the animal, making sure to highlight his marksmanship skills in the interview, stating, “My gun carries a ball of eighteen to the pound; and I suppose there is no person in town, more accustomed to shooting, than I am.”

So, what precisely did the Committee of the Linnaean Society conclude about the sea serpent? They don’t state a definite “yes” or “no” answer, however if the report were a Magic 8-ball it would read “All signs point to yes.” For example, the report includes illustrations of a smaller Cape Ann sea animal actually examined and dissected, which the authors likened to "a remarkable serpent, supposed to be the progeny of the great serpent." The small serpent, which had unusual bumps along its back, was taken as concrete evidence that a larger sea serpent must exist. Additionally, to accommodate their ‘discovery’, the Linnaean Society established a new genus - Scoliophis Atlanticus - and included a diagram of what the adult animal must look like at the front of their report. As the reporters remarked following their interview sessions, “the deponents were interrogated separately, no one knowing what the others had testified, and though they differ in some few particulars, still, for the most part, they agree.”

So what happened to the Gloucester sea serpent, and what about the supposed baby serpent collected in Cape Ann? At first the reports led to impassioned debates on both sides about the creatures' existence. An editor of the Philadelphia newspaper at the time wrote an editorial stating. “The evidence of the existence of the Sea-Monster is conclusive and irresistible.” Perhaps it was too irresistible though, as a French naturalist that acquired the supposed baby sea serpent soon concluded what had been thought to be a new species was in fact a common black snake (Coluber contrictor) whose spine undulated due to a skeletal disease. As the news broke, scholars questioned the validity of the Society’s report, and when the group disbanded in 1822 nobody followed up with further inquiries. Perhaps local residents of Gloucester really did see a remarkable marine animal in the summer and fall of 1817, but we’ll likely never know for sure.
To read this sea serpent story for yourself, stop by Rauner Library today and ask to see Rare QL 89.2.S4 L56 1817.