This Just In: Scarlet Letters from the Backlog

Posted on October 11, 2013 by

Every Special Collections library has a number of mysterious boxes that for some reason or another have never been dealt with–gifts with mysterious provenances, duplicate copies, a collection that someone was working on but for some reason never finished, and so on. U.Va. is no exception, though we do pride ourselves on how small that backlog is, and how well-described our cataloged materials are.

Soon after starting this job, I was tasked, with my co-hire David Whitesell, to dig into the backlog. For many months now, we have each enjoyed tackling a box or two on a quiet afternoon at the reference desk, or whenever the temptation is too strong and more pressing work is set aside.

Much of the pleasure of curatorial work comes from the element of surprise–unexpected gifts, unexpected acquisitions opportunities, unexpected discoveries in the stacks, unexpected researcher projects, and so on. So I was thrilled to find one day recently, mixed with various unremarkable volumes in a box, two early copies of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. I was even more thrilled to discover that neither came near to duplicating the numerous early copies already in our collection.

Existing holdings in early printings of the novel accompanied by the two books that will soon join them on our shelves.The dull brown covers were, in their day, a mark of great prestige, since they were the signature of the highly regarded publishers Ticknor and Fields.

Seven existing Scarlet Letters accompanied by two volumes that will soon join them on our shelves. The dull brown covers were a mark of literary prestige, since they were the signature of the highly regarded Boston publishing house of Ticknor, Reed and Fields.

The Second Edition Advertisements

The Scarlet Letter was a huge success from the moment it was published. Released on March 16, 1850, the first edition of 2,500 copies sold quickly. On April 22nd, the second edition was released. It also comprised 2,500 copies, and is easily identified because it includes an additional preface by Hawthorne, in which he responds to criticisms of the famous essay that prefaces the novel, “The Custom House.”

Our three cataloged copies of the second edition vary dramatically in condition and paratexts. All but one have bookplates, and all three have advertisements. The publishers added to each copy a multi-page advertising insert variously titled “New Books and New Editions” or “A List of Books Recently Published,” all beginning with the publisher’s Longfellow list. The three copies have inserts dated March 1850 and May 1850 (in two copies).

Notably, the newly unearthed copy has an advertising insert dated October 1849, which is the earliest insert of any copy of this novel in our collection. Presumably, the insert was lifted from a stack of old leftovers, since the book could not have been bound before the spring of 1850.

The images below show a variety of advertisements from the first three editions of the novel, all published in 1850.

Detail of the advertisement in one of our copies of the first edition. (PS 1868 .A1 1850. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Catlin. Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

Detail of the advertisement in the soon-to-be-added copy of the second edition. (Uncataloged. Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

Detail of the advertisement in one of our copies of the third edition, the first to be printed from stereotyped plates, and which appeared in September, 1850 (A 1850 .H39 S3a. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

An 1854 impression

The other volume found in the backlog is unquestionably unique to our collection, as the only standalone copy of the novel we own with an imprint date of 1854 (a collected works edition we hold is also dated that year). It is printed from the stereotyped plates produced in late 1850 for the third edition. The only 1854 printing, it totaled 500 copies, and brought the total number of copies of the novel’s American standalone editions alone to 10,300.

So, Hawthorne fans and bibliographers, we encourage you to come by in a few weeks when these new additions have been cataloged, snugly housed, and added to the shelves alongside their brethren!

Our new second edition, on the left, and third edition, 1854 printing, on the right. The yellowed slips in the book show how long these have waited for their moment in the sun (and in Virgo, our online catalog). The origins of these volumes are lost to the sands of time.

ABCs of Special Collections: M is for…

Posted on October 7, 2013 by

And now for your reading and viewing pleasure, the letter

M is for the first letter in Masonry as it appears on Meriwhether Lewis's Mason certificate.(Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

M is for the word “Mason” in the final entry in this blog post (MSS 3837. Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

M is for Robert McAlmon

An accomplished writer in his own right, Robert McAlmon’s greatest contribution to literary culture may have been his publishing enterprises. First printing avant-garde prose and poetry in the Contact Review in New York, he moved to Paris in 1921 to immerse himself in the burgeoning artist scene there. He started Contact Publishing Company, and published many of the writers and poets who came to define their generation, including Ernest Hemingway’s first book, Three Stories & Ten Poems in 1923. He also typed and edited James Joyce’s manuscript of Ulysses before it was sent to the typesetter. A search of our online catalog shows 29 entries related to Robert McAlmon.

Contributed by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

A sketch by Emil Becat of Robert McAlmon and James Joyce on the back cover of McAlmon and the Lost Generation (PS3525 .A1143 Z53 1962. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

A sketch by Emil Becat of Robert McAlmon and James Joyce, which appears on the back cover of the book McAlmon and the Lost Generation (PS3525 .A1143 Z53 1962. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

A Hasty Bunch (PS3525 .A1143H3 1922. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

A Hasty Bunch by Robert McAlmon, 1922. (PS3525 .A1143H3 1922. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

M is for Medieval Manuscript

The medieval manuscripts in our collections date as far back as the ninth century and well into the fifteenth. Holdings include Bibles, prayer books, and secular works, such as poems, philosophy, and law texts, as well as a variety of documents; many are fragments. Some are highly decorated with pigments made from natural substances, including parsley, vermillion, saffron, lapis lazuli and gold, and are written on vellum or parchment (animal skin).

Contributed by Anne Causey, Public Services Assistant

Page of the Roman de la Rose, 14th-Century (MSS 6765. Jeffress Collection. Image by Petrina Jackson)

Psalter from England, 15th-Century. (Medieval MSS I. Edward L. Stone Collection. Image by Petrina Jackson)

French Book of Hours, featuring the hour of the crucifixion (Medieval MSS P. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Image by Petrina Jackson)

M is for Meriwether Lewis, Superexcellent Mason

Special Collections holds a number of rare and unique materials relating to the life and career of Meriwether Lewis, but none quite like this document of his Masonic membership. A native of Albemarle County, Lewis (1774-1909) joined the Door to Virtue Lodge 44 in 1797. The document shown here documents his attaining the elevated status of Royal Arch Superexcellent Mason two years later in nearby Staunton. Lewis remained involved in the Masons throughout his life, and led the successful effort to establish a Masonic Lodge in St. Louis, Missouri in 1808.

More about Lewis’s involvement in Freemasonry, and wonderful images of one of his Masonic aprons, may be seen at the “Discovering Lewis & Clark” website, under the heading “Meriwether Lewis, Master Mason.”

Contributed by Molly Schwartzburg, Curator

Meriwether Lewis’s certificate for attaining the status of Royal Arch Superexcellent Mason, Staunton [Virginia] Lodge 13, October 31, 1799. The certificate shows Lewis’s signature on the left. A deep red ribbon is woven through the paper, and the entire document is backed with cloth.(MSS 3837. Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

See you next time with an installment of the letter “N.” For now, bye-bye!

Patron’s Choice: The United States Camel Cavalry…yes, you read that right!

Posted on October 3, 2013 by

This week, we are pleased to feature a guest post from researcher Maria A. Windell, Assistant Professor of English at Ball State University. Dr. Windell visited Special Collections a few months ago to work on an article entitled “Military, Diplomatic, and Novel Imperial Imaginaries: Literary History and the Writings of David Dixon Porter,” about Civil War hero Admiral David Dixon Porter. It is drawn from a larger project on the Porter family and nineteenth-century literary history. While she was here, Maria found one particularly intriguing artifact that she generously agreed to share with us.

In March of 1855, Congress appropriated $30,000 for the purchase of…camels. The Army was hoping to find a more reliable and cost-effective way of navigating the American Southwest, as the broad swaths of territory gained just seven years before in the U.S.-Mexican War had proven difficult for horses to travel. Looking for a creative solution to these issues, the Army and Congress began to consider how camels might be adapted for transportation and perhaps even combat purposes in the United States.

A camel as illustrated in the 1857 "Report of the Secretary of War..."(UC 350 . U5 1857. Bequest of Paul Mellon. Image by University of Virginia Library Digitization Services.)

A camel as illustrated in the “Report of the Secretary of War…respecting the Purchase of Camels for the Purposes of Military Transportation” (Washington: A.O.P.Nelson, 1857). (UC 350 . U5 1857. Bequest of Paul Mellon. Image by University of Virginia Library Digitization Services.)

Secretary of War Jefferson Davis (yes, future president of the Confederacy) tapped Major Henry Wayne of the Army to head an expedition to purchase camels for use in the U.S.; Wayne had long been interested in incorporating camels into the Army’s supply chain. Davis and Wayne then chose Lieutenant David Dixon Porter of the Navy to captain the Supply, the ship that would sail the camels from the Middle East to Indianola, Texas. Porter’s brother-in-law, Gwinn Harris Heap, who had lived in Tunis for many years, accompanied the expedition as, among other things, its resident illustrator.

The expedition set out in 1855, and returned to Texas with thirty-four camels (including two calves born at sea) eleven months later. While the expedition was thus successful, the camel experiment ultimately failed. While the camels adapted quite nicely to the southwestern climate and landscape, Americans—and their horses—were unable to accept the aroma and mannerisms of their new four-legged companions. More importantly, the Civil War arrived, drawing interest and funding from the experiment. Some of the camels were sold to circuses and zoos, some were sold to private individuals, and some escaped into the desert (Texans reported encountering feral camels even into the twentieth century).

Camels being loaded for transport, as illustrated in the report. (Image by University of Virginia Digitization Services)

While the expedition failed to yield a permanent “Camel Corps,” it did yield a fairly comprehensive governmental report. At the request of Congress, Davis published a volume on the experiment with the rather utilitarian title Report of the Secretary of War, Communicating, In Compliance with a Resolution of the Senate of February 2, 1857, Information Respecting the Purchase of Camels for the Purposes of Military Transportation. The report is mostly a series of dispatches from Major Wayne and Lieutenant Porter; a number of Heap’s illustrations are included, as are the entries into the Supply’s log for the trip back to the U.S. Wayne also submitted lengthy excerpts and translations from various tomes on the camel, and Davis incorporated these into the report as well. There are certainly some entertaining events and illustrations to be found in the approximately 240-page report, but much of the volume is filled with mundane dispatches and camel arcana.

Title page of the report. (UC 350 .U5 1857. Bequest of Paul Mellon. Image by University of Virginia Library Digitization Services.)

In some ways, the publication of this 1857 report might be seen as the end of the expedition (the experiment took several years to peter out). Yet the report is in some ways also the beginning of the story of the camel event—it demonstrates how the experiment became a narrative of national interest before becoming a forgotten element of the national past. And the particular copy of the report held in the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library at the University of Virginia demonstrates this in a particularly vivid way: it bears an inscription showing the volume to have been gifted. While it was quite common for novels, poetry, and story collections to be gifted during the nineteenth century, the gifting of a War Department report published for congressional use was certainly not the norm.

The inscription in UVa’s copy of the report. (Image by University of Virginia Library Digitization Services.)

The inscription in UVa’s copy of Davis’s Report reveals that such was the unusual fate of this particular volume. At the time of the report’s publication, John P. Hale was a United States Senator from New Hampshire. Sarah J. Christie was the daughter of an attorney Hale had practiced law with in Dover, NH, years before. At the time he gifted the volume to Christie in 1857, Hale had likely long been married to Lucy Lambert (the Hales’ daughter, Lucy Lambert Hale, was engaged to John Wilkes Booth at the time of Lincoln’s assassination in 1865). While the inscription does not then necessarily imply a romantic gift, it does reveal that Hale believed Christie would be intrigued by the report.

Hale’s gifting of the report on the camel expedition to Christie demonstrates the appeal of the expedition for Americans further removed from political and military duties. As the volume is clean of Christie’s—or any other—marginalia, there is no way to judge of her reaction to the report. Nevertheless, Hale clearly assumed it had enough interesting content to offset its overall tedium: accounts of Tuscany, Tunis, and the Crimea; of slight diplomatic rows with Turkey and Egypt over substandard gifted camels (the insult!); and of the birthing of calves while at sea. The possibility of baby camels certainly captured the imagination of the staff at Harper’s Weekly, which (prematurely) declared the camel experiment a success before noting, “The Secretary of War, Mr. Jefferson Davis, has not yet had the pleasure of presenting to the people a native camel.[. . .] It is, perhaps, indiscreet to attempt to be precise in promising the advent of little humpbacked strangers; but we can assure the public that the hopes of the Department are very high and confident.”

Baby camels, as illustrated in the report. (Image by University of Virginia Digitization Services.)

While the camel expedition and experiment may have captivated nineteenth-century Americans, it faded into a largely forgotten event—overshadowed in national memory, as it was at the time, by the enormity of the Civil War. The volume held in Special Collections, however, attests not only to the strange and interesting event’s occurrence, but also to the remarkable interest it generated—even inspiring the gifting of a governmental report initially published for congressional use.

Patron’s Choice: Ellen Glasgow, James Branch Cabell, and a Manuscript Mystery Solved

Posted on September 27, 2013 by

This week, we are pleased to feature a guest post from Stephanie Kingsley, a second-year Master’s student in the English Department at the University of Virginia. Ms. Kingsley specializes in colonial and 19th-century American literature, textual studies, and digital humanities. She plans to work in publishing and digital archives after her graduation in May 2014.

***

When I set out to find a literary work to edit for David Vander Meulen’s “Introduction to Scholarly Editing and Textual Criticism” course, I knew early on that I wanted to choose one which would allow me to utilize materials in the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library. I wanted to do an authoritative edition—an edition which established the author’s final intention for his or her work—and I knew that manuscript materials would be central to such a project. Little did I know that when I set this restriction on my choice, I would later be embarking on a full-blown bibliographical investigation.

I ultimately settled on Virginia author Ellen Glasgow. Many of Glasgow’s manuscripts, correspondence, and notes have come to reside in Special Collections, alongside those of many other Virginia writers; hence, I knew I would have wonderful resources at my fingertips in the course of the semester. After examining which works Special Collections had in manuscript, I selected In This Our Life, Glasgow’s final published novel, for my editorial project.

Photograph of Ellen Glasgow (1938) taken by from her book The Woman Within (MSS 5060. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Photograph of Ellen Glasgow (1938) taken for her book The Woman Within (MSS 5060. Photograph by Petrina Jackson. Published with the Permission of the Ellen Glasgow Estate)

Ellen Glasgow was born in 1893, lived in Richmond all her life, and died in 1945. Glasgow is considered one of the most important Southern regionalist authors. Her novels address issues of class, gender, and race, hearkening back to the traditions of the agrarian Old South while acknowledging the advent of industrialism. Glasgow’s eighteenth and final novel, In This Our Life, focuses on a previously wealthy aristocratic family, the Timberlakes, as they sustain financial and family turmoil. For Glasgow, the family signifies both the changing times experienced by two distinct generations and man’s capacity never to accept defeat. Also prominent are issues of race, and special attention is given to the black Clay family serving the Timberlakes. In This Our Life garnered Glasgow the 1942 Pulitzer Prize for the Novel and was made into a film starring Bette Davis by Warner Brothers that same year. Belying these successes, the novel had a rocky beginning. Glasgow began planning it in 1935 and completed two drafts between 1939 and 1940, during which time she suffered a series of heart attacks. In her autobiography, Glasgow describes being able to write only 15 to 30 minutes a day during her illness, and in her preface to the novel, Glasgow laments not being able to complete a third draft as she usually did. Despite these hardships, Glasgow wrote, rewrote, and closely oversaw details of book design, jacket description, and publicity. In This Our Life was finally published in March 1941.

First Edition of In This Our Life by Ellen Glasgow. (PS3513 .L34I5. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

First Edition of In This Our Life, Harcourt Brace, 1941. (PS3513 .L34I5. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

I felt that with such a fraught publication history, In This Our Life could surely use editorial work to determine whether Glasgow’s final intentions actually made it into the published novel. My first step was to consult the extensive Glasgow bibliography compiled by William W. Kelly in 1968 for the Bibliographical Society of Virginia. Kelly provides bibliographical descriptions of the early editions of Glasgow’s works, an in-depth history for each, and a list of manuscript materials available in Special Collections, many of which I would consult while preparing my edition.

Portrait of James Branch Cabell, 1930. (RG-30/1/10.11) University of Virginia Visual History Collection. Online.

Kelly identifies an intriguing mystery in the publication history of In This Our Life. According to Glasgow’s close friend and fellow author James Branch Cabell, while she was ill during the late stages of writing In This Our Life, Cabell assisted by editing the typescript:

And now, upon the brink of triumph [winning the Pulitzer Prize], she was not bodily able to finish, or rather, to put into any acceptable shape, a final draft of the book which would ensure this distinction.

So I remedied affairs by doing this revising for her, in chief out of love and friendship and my honest sympathy, but in some part out of the derisive pleasure which I got from knowing that at long last I was completing a Pulitzer prize winner.

For this reasons then did I more than gladly give over some three or four months to In This Our Life, or to be more accurate, the afternoons of these months, because, in the mornings of them, I was drafting The First Gentleman of America….

…twice a week I would visit Ellen Glasgow’s sick chamber at about four o’clock in the afternoon, so as to show her what changes and slight amendments I was making in her text; and she, propped up in bed, wan and emaciated but as vigorous of mind as ever, would applaud them for the most part. She balked now and then, however, and as I thought ill-advisedly, over what she took to be a touch of the too frivolous or of the slightly risqué; for to my finding, this novel required a deal of animating; but meekly I would shrug and accept her mandates as to what, after all, was going to be her book, and not mine….

And after that, I would kiss her cheek and depart with a fresh batch of typescript for me to revise and to make tidy during the next three or four days. (Cabell, As I Remember It, 222-23)

Glasgow herself never mentions these revisions in either the preface to the novel or her autobiography. She recounts that Cabell spent hours by her bedside reading the typescript but says nothing of his editing. Furthermore, in the course of writing his bibliography, Kelly interviewed Glasgow’s secretary and companion, Anne Bennett, who called Cabell’s account a lie and said that he did not see the book until it was in page proofs. I decided to examine the typescript itself, over four hundred typewritten pages used by the printer to set the galleys, to see if it might offer any clues. And so my work Under Grounds began.

A sample leaf, page 499, from the typescript for In This Our Life (MSS 5060. Image by Petrina Jackson. Published with the Permission of the Ellen Glasgow Estate)

As the typescript was central to my editorial work, I set out to confirm that it and the revisions on it could be considered authoritative. Revisions included reworked passages in type and minor punctuation corrections in pencil. Because the most extensive edits were in type, I assumed that if Cabell did edit the typescript, he did so with his typewriter. At the recommendation of Professor Vander Meulen, I proceeded to compare types in hopes of identifying distinct typists.

The first problem with respect to typescript authority was the matter of who typed the typescript. In her letters, Glasgow describes it as a fair copy transcribed by Anne Bennett. By comparing the types of the running text and revisions to other Glasgow materials, such as pre-draft notes and earlier page states, I was able to identify two different typewriters involved: the one responsible for the running text was Bennett’s, and the revisions were by Glasgow’s.

Detail of page 499 of In This Our Life’s final draft typescript. An example of type revisions made on Glasgow’s typewriter can be seen on the first line of the page. Notice how the “t” in “the” has a wider bottom than the “t” in “want” in the line of running text below. The wide “t” was a distinguishing feature of Glasgow’s typewriter, while the narrow “t” was characteristic of Bennett’s. It appears that the two women had the same sort of typewriter, but subtle variations in type such as these enabled me to differentiate. (MSS 5060. Image by Petrina Jackson. Published with the Permission of the Ellen Glasgow Estate)

Detail of leaf one of Glasgow’s pre-draft notes for In This Our Life. Notice how the “t’s” on Glasgow’s notes are wide. As Glasgow herself would have authored the notes, I compared types from them to the final draft typescript in order to identify Glasgow’s typewriter. (MSS 5060. Image by Petrina Jackson. Published with the Permission of the Ellen Glasgow Estate)

It appears that Glasgow’s habit was to type earlier drafts herself and then have Anne Bennett prepare fair copies for further revision. Thus, type comparison enabled me to reconstruct the process of Bennett’s transcription and Glasgow’s revision. I also could conclude that Cabell did not make these type revisions in his afternoon editing sessions at home. However, I was still not perfectly satisfied with respect to the Cabell editorial mystery. Nor could my findings account for the pencil markings occasionally deleting or inserting commas. Lastly, I still had utterly competing secondary accounts. I decided to describe the question as an open case in the introduction to my edition, and thus finish my project.

A few days before I was to turn in my edition, I found that—like any good student of bibliography—I was still perturbed by those pencil corrections. I felt that I was missing something, so I descended Under Grounds for another look. After several weeks away from the typescript, a fresh glance revealed that the minor pencil corrections were not the only handwriting on the typescript: remnants of erased handwriting could be discerned throughout, editing not only for punctuation and capitalization but also for wording. I was astounded. I had been assuming all along that Cabell had edited with a typewriter, if at all, and had never considered written corrections, simply because with the exception of a few commas and stray words, they had been utterly obliterated.

I knew what I had to do. Cabell mentioned working on The First Gentleman of America while editing In This Our Life, and as it turned out, Special Collections also had the typescript for this work—with written revisions in Cabell’s hand! The night before my edition was due, I was in Special Collections again examining the handwriting on the two typescripts, and after scouring the Glasgow pages for writing which was clear enough for comparison to Cabell’s hand, I concluded that the hand was indeed his. In the photographs below of the two authors’ typescripts, you’ll easily discern that the handwriting is from the same person.

Detail of page 382 of the final draft typescript of In This Our Life, page 382. (MSS 5060. Image by Petrina Jackson. Published with the Permission of the Ellen Glasgow Estate)

Detail of Cabell's First Gentleman of America typescript, page 1. (MSS . Image by Petrina Jackson)

Detail of Cabell’s First Gentleman of America typescript, page 1. (MSS 5618. Image by Petrina Jackson)

It appears that Cabell revised the typescript in pencil; then after he, Glasgow and Harcourt-Brace had decided this draft was ready to go to the printer, Glasgow went back, reviewed and retyped Cabell’s revisions, and erased his handwriting—probably in an effort to make the revisions as clear as possible for the printer.

Page 489 of In This Our Life typescript. See how the word "Just" is handwritten, erased, and then typewritten. (Image by Petrina Jackson)

Page 489 of In This Our Life typescript. See how the word “Just” is handwritten, erased, and then typewritten. (MSS 5060. Image by Petrina Jackson. Published with the Permission of the Ellen Glasgow Estate)

From reading what little handwriting remains, it appears that Glasgow did approve and adopt most of Cabell’s revisions. She also added revisions of her own, apparently using preparation for the printer as an opportunity to do final revisions which she had not gotten to do before. Another possibility, however, is that Cabell sat by Glasgow’s bedside and, while reading his changes to her, typed over his handwriting with Glasgow’s typewriter for the same purpose: to make it clear for the printer. This part of the typescript’s history yet remains obscured, and a scholar of both Glasgow and Cabell’s literature would need to analyze the places where the type revisions deviate from the handwritten ones to judge whether they were more likely the result of the two authors’ collaboration or Glasgow’s emendations alone. This typescript has revealed much and may yet have more to say about the relationship of these two authors and their creative process. It simply takes an intrepid spirit sallying forth into Special Collections to make it speak!

Sarah Kingsley in front of the Special Collections Vault, 2013 (Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Stephanie Kingsley in front of the Special Collections Vault, 2013 (Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

ABCs of Special Collections: L is for…

Posted on September 23, 2013 by

And we are back with the letter:

Jack London's signature, highlighting the letter "L" in his last name. Letter to Max Feckler from Jack London, October 26, 1914

Jack London’s signature, highlighting the letter “L” in his last name. The signature is from his letter to Max Feckler, October 26, 1914 (MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

L is for James Laughlin
While studying poetry with Ezra Pound in Italy, the poet told him, “You’re never going to be any good as a poet. Why don’t you take up something useful?” Laughlin returned to Harvard in 1936, and founded New Directions, a publishing enterprise he started in his dorm room with help from his family’s fortune. New Directions evolved into a highly prestigious avant-garde press, publishing works by Gertrude Stein, William Carlos Williams, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Elizabeth Bishop, and many others. Laughlin did manage to publish a number of books of his own poetry, as well. An author search of our online catalog shows 35 hits related to Mr. Laughlin, and over 500 for New Directions publications. The press is still in operation today.

Contributed by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

James Laughlin Selected Poems, 1935–1985.’ City Light Books, 1986. (PS3523. A8245A6 1986. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

Henry Miller’s The Cosmological Eye. New Directions, 1939. The eye in the cloud is James Laughlin’s left eye. (PS3525 I5454 C6. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

L is for Little Red Riding Hood
In 2007, Special Collections received as a gift from Martha Orr Davenport her marvelous collection of books and artifacts related to the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. There are approximately 480 books, 100 pieces of print ephemera, 50 works of art, ten magic lantern slides, and more than a hundred objects, including tableware, figurines, vases, pottery, tiles, crystal, glass, cloth, dolls, puppets, tinware, prints, and recordings.

Contributed by Molly Schwartzburg, Curator

Clockwise from top left, these Reds Riding Hoods appear in the following books, which are not yet cataloged: “Little Red Riding Hood, (London: Tuck, [1890]); “Les Contes de Perrault” (Paris: Librairie de Theodore Lefevre, n.d.); “Walter Crane’s Toy Books: Little Red Riding Hood” ([London]: George Routledge, n.d.); “Rotkappchen” (n.p: n.p., n.d.). [xx(6134166.1). Photograph collage by Molly Schwartzburg]

Clockwise from top left, these wolves appear in the following books, which are not yet cataloged: “Rotkappchen” (n.p: n.p., n.d.); “Tales of Passed Times Written for Children by Mr. Perrault and Newly Decorated by John Austen” (London: Selwyn and Bount, 1922); “Little Red Riding Hood, (London: Tuck, [1890]); “Walter Crane’s Toy Books: Little Red Riding Hood” ([London]: George Routledge, n.d.). [xx(6134166.1). Photograph collage by Molly Schwartzburg]

L is for Jack London
In our collections are some notable items of the American author Jack London (1876-1916), who is best known for his book, The Call of the Wild and the short story, “To Build A Fire.” Among our materials are the typescript of his novel, The Sea Wolf, with his handwritten corrections, and two boxes of lively letters, illustrating the nature of his life as an adventurer and writer. This letter to a young man who has sent London a copy of his story is harsh but humorous, but in the end, offers good advice for a burgeoning writer. He ends with an invitation to visit him in California, “on the ranch.”

Contributed by Anne Causey, Public Services Assistant

Signed photograph of Jack London, ca.1907-1908, , box 2, folder 39 Photo taken on board the Snark, the sailboat upon which he cruised the South Pacific for 27 months with his wife Charmian. (MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

Signed photograph of Jack London, ca.1907-1908. Photo taken on board the Snark, the sailboat upon which he cruised the South Pacific for 27 months with his wife Charmian. (MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

Typescript of Jack London’s The Sea Wolf with autograph corrections, page 136. (MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

Letter to Max Feckler, October 26, 1914, MSS 6240, box 2, folder23 This letter shows the lively tone of many of London's letters, although this one is much longer, more detailed and more impassioned. Here, he is advising a young writer to improve his skill and learn the market before he sends out a story.

Letter to Max Feckler from Jack London, October 26, 1914. This letter shows the lively tone of many of London’s letters, although this one is much longer, more detailed and more impassioned. Here, he is advising a young writer to improve his skill and learn the market before he sends out a story. (MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

(MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

Page 2 of letter to Max Feckler from Jack London, October 26, 1914. (MSS 6240. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Caroline Newcomb)

From “L” to “M,” see what our next letter selections will be in a couple of weeks when the ABCs of Special Collections continues.

This Just In: Growing the Gothic

Posted on September 19, 2013 by

Regular readers will know of our fondness for the English Gothic novel, and our pride in the recent bequest of the Maurice Lévy Collection of French Gothic (described in two recent blog posts). We have now acquired a key edition—the rare first edition in French (Lausanne, 1787) of William Beckford’s Vathek—which nicely links the Lévy Collection with its progenitor, the unparalleled Sadleir-Black Gothic Novel Collection housed under Grounds in the Small Special Collections Library.

Title page of the second published edition (and the first printing of the original French text) of William Beckford’s Vathek. Lausanne: Isaac Hignou, 1787. (PR4091 .V39 1787)

One of the earliest, and now one of the most widely read English Gothic novels, Vathek has a complicated textual history. In a very important sense it is not even an English novel, for when Beckford composed the text in 1782, he did so in French! Indeed, Beckford never prepared an English translation of his best known work. Rather, most readers have encountered Vathek in the English translation (or in translations of this translation) prepared by the Rev. Samuel Henley, sometime professor at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia.

The first page of the Rev. Samuel Henley’s translation, from the first edition of Vathek, published under the title, An Arabian Tale. London: J. Johnson, 1786. (PR 4091 .V4 1786)

Born in 1745 in Devon, Henley was recruited in 1770 for the faculty of William and Mary, where he taught moral philosophy. Popular with his students—who included James Madison and James Monroe—Henley also formed strong friendships with prominent Virginians such as George Wythe and Thomas Jefferson. The looming clouds of war prompted Henley’s return to England in 1775, where he accepted a teaching position at Harrow School. By 1783 Henley had entered the intellectual circle of William Beckford, who entrusted him with translating the as yet unpublished Vathek into English. But Beckford, distracted in part by a scandal which necessitated an extended sojourn in Switzerland, insisted that Henley’s version remain unpublished until he saw fit to publish the original French text.

And for comparison, the first page of Beckford’s French text, as it appeared in the Lausanne, 1787 edition.

Disobeying Beckford’s wishes, Henley instead sent his translation to the press. Published in London in 1786 as An Arabian tale, Henley not only concealed Beckford’s authorship but pretended that the work was translated from an “Arabick” source. When the news reached Beckford in Lausanne, he was furious. Placing the original manuscript in the hands of a Swiss friend, Beckford directed that his French be corrected where necessary and the text rushed into print. The latter request was easier to meet than the former: the novel was published early in 1787 at Lausanne as Vathek, but with Beckford’s faulty French little improved. Today the Lausanne edition is very rare and, because Beckford’s manuscript no longer survives, remains our closest witness to the text as originally written. In subsequent editions, Beckford continued to tinker with both the French text and Henley’s translation, creating an interesting challenge for the textual editor.

The Small Special Collections Library possesses two copies of the London, 1786 edition. One is in a fine binding with distinguished provenance. The other, rather shabby copy is even more interesting, for it bears the contemporary wood-engraved label--by Thomas Bewick, no less!--of Humble's Circulatign Library in Newcastle.

The Small Special Collections Library possesses two copies of the London, 1786 edition. One is in a fine binding with distinguished provenance. Despite its rather shabby appearance, the other copy is even more interesting, for it bears the contemporary wood-engraved label–by Thomas Bewick, no less!–of Humble’s Circulating Library in Newcastle.

ABCs of Special Collections: K is for…

Posted on September 9, 2013 by

We are almost at the half-way mark with today’s letter:

K is for “1908” Classic “Plug,” which is one of 75 alphabets represented in Frank H. Atkinson’s Atkinson Sign Painting up to Now: A Complete Manual of Sign Painting. Chicago: Frederick J. Drake & Co., 1915 (not yet catalogued. Gift of Nicholas Curtis. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

K is for Franz Kafka (1883-1924)

Best known for The Metamorphosis (1915), Franz Kafka is arguably one of the most influential writers of the 20th-century. In 1908, his first eight stories were published in Hyperion, a bi-monthly magazine. During his lifetime, his works Meditation (1913), The Country Doctor (1916), and Letters to His Father (1919) were published. However, many of Kafka’s novels were published posthumously and include A Hunger Artist (1924), The Trial (1925); The Castle (1926), and Amerika (1927).

We have Paul E. Rieger, U.Va. Class of 1955, to thank for our Kafka collection. In 1980, the Ohio native donated his collection of 300 books by and about Franz Kafka to the Library. The gift includes German, British, and American first editions, first appearances in periodicals, opera scores, and criticisms.

Contributed by Anne Causey, Public Services Assistant

Cover of Die Verwandlung (The Metamorphosis) by Franz Kafka, 1948. (PT2621 .A26 V4 1948. Gift of Paul E. Rieger. Photograph by Anne Causey)

Cover of The Castle by Franz Kafka, translated from German into English by Edwin and Willa Muir, 1930. (PT2621 .A26 S313 1930b. Gift of Paul E. Rieger. Photograph by Anne Causey.)

Paul E. Rieger's bookplate from Kafka's Castle by Ronald Gray (PT2621 .A26 S42. Gift of Paul E. Rieger. Photograph by Anne Causey)

Paul E. Rieger’s (U.Va. Class of ’55) bookplate from Kafka’s Castle by Ronald Gray (PT2621 .A26 S42. Gift of Paul E. Rieger. Photograph by Anne Causey)

K is for Kanawha

On October 24, 1861, citizens of 39 western Virginia counties approved a resolution to form a new pro-Union state, to be called Kanawha. A convention met in Wheeling late in 1861 to draft a constitution for the new state. Many of the delegates did not like the name “Kanawha” and after lengthy debate, the name “West Virginia” was selected for the assemblage of 50 former Virginia counties. Once the contentious issue of the new state’s name was decided, slavery was the remaining controversial issue. West Virginia was not conceived as a free state. Instead of an outright ban, the new constitution stated: “No slave shall be brought, or free person of color be permitted to come into this State for permanent residence.”

Contributed by Edward Gaynor, Head of Description and Specialist for Virginiana and University Archives

Journal of the Constitutional Convention of West Virginia Assembled at Wheeling on Tuesday, November Twenty-Sixth, Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-One (A 1861 .W478. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

W. T. Willey [Washington, DC] letter to J. W. Paxton [Wheeling, W. Va.], announcing the “agony is over” and President Lincoln has signed the bill admitting West Virginia, January 1863. Willey was the first United States Senator from West Virginia; delegate to the Virginia Convention, 1861, voting against secession; and author of the Willey Amendment, a compromise on the question of freedom for West Virginia slaves that assured West Virginia’s acceptance into the Union. (MSS 15234. Purchased by Associates Endowment Fund 2011/2012. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Map of West Virginia, 1863. The base map is J.H. Colton’s “Virginia” map (version of the map including McDowell, but not Webster counties), with 1855 copyright date and the identification of “Richmond” as State Capital blacked out with printer’s ink. Virginia is still included on the sheet, but is not colored. There are two insets: Section of West Virginia Oil Region and West Virginia Geological Sections. (G3890 1863 .C6. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

K is for Bob Kaufman

Bob Kaufman was a leading figure in the San Francisco poetry scene during the Beat and Psychedelic eras. Kaufman, a poet in the oral tradition, was often seen reciting his poems on the street, in coffee houses, and at musical events. Only at the insistence of his wife did he put some of his verse to paper. A Buddhist and a jazz aficionado, Kaufman was one of the founders of the influential poetry magazine, Beatitude.

Contributed by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

Bob Kaufman on the cover of his book of poetry, Golden Sardine from the Pocket Poets Series, 1967. (PS3521 .A7265G6 1967. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Bob Kaufman on the cover of his book of poetry, Golden Sardine from the Pocket Poets Series, 1967. (PS3521 .A7265G6 1967. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

(Abomunist Manifesto by Bob Kaufman. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

First printing of Kaufman’s first published work, Abomunist Manifesto, 1959. (PS3521 .A7265A2 1959. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Issue of Beatitude, no. 15, 17 June 1960. (PS580 .B36. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

K is for Kennedy

1958 was a memorable year for the University. John, Jackie, Edward and Robert Kennedy visited U.Va. to attend a celebration, the first Law Day. The highlight of the day was a speech by then Senator John F. Kennedy to a large crowd gathered at Alumni Hall. At this time Ted was a second-year law student, following in the footsteps of his brother Robert, who graduated from U.Va.’s Law school in 1951.

Contributed by Donna Stapley, Assistant to the Director

Robert Kennedy and Ralph Bunche at Student Legal Forum, held at U.Va. on 26 March 1951. (Prints File. Photograph of print by Donna Stapley)

Robert Kennedy and Ralph Bunche at Student Legal Forum, held at U.Va. on 26 March 1951. (Prints File. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Edward, Jackie, John and Robert Kennedy at U.Va (from left to right). When Edward Kennedy was a second-year law student, the Law School held its first Law Day. John F. Kennedy (then senator of Massachusetts) spoke on “The Unknown Challenge,” discussing foreign and domestic policy. His brother Robert attended as an alumnus. (Prints File: U.Va. News Service Photo. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Photograph of John Kennedy and Mrs. Colgate Darden (seated) by U.Va. photographer Ralph Thompson (Prints File. Photograph of print by Donna Stapley)

Photograph of John Kennedy and Mrs. Colgate Darden (seated) by U.Va. photographer Ralph Thompson (Prints File. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

K is for Frances Parkinson Keyes

Best-selling novelist Frances Parkinson Keyes (pronounced “Kize”) was born in Charlottesville, Virginia in 1885, to UVA professor and chairman of the Greek Department, John Henry Wheeler, and his wife Louise Fuller Johnson Wheeler. Keyes went on to become the wife of a US senator and a prolific author. Her over fifty novels, many set in the South, sold millions of copies during the mid-twentieth century. The Papers of Frances Parkinson Keyes, MSS 3923, etc., in the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library were a gift from the author to the Library in the 1960s.

Contributed by Margaret Hrabe, Reference Coordinator

Letter from Frances Parkinson Keyes to University Librarian John Cook Wyllie, regarding her birth at U.Va., 10 January 1959. (MSS 5983. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Letter from Frances Parkinson Keyes to University Librarian John Cook Wyllie, regarding her birth at U.Va., 10 January 1959. (MSS 5983. Gift of John Cook Wyllie. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Photograph of Frances Parkinson Keyes inscribed to U.Va. Library. (MSS 3923. Gift of Frances Parkinson Keyes. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Cover of dinner program given by Keyes, related to the writing of Steamboat Gothic. (MSS 3932. Gift of Frances Parkinson Keyes. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Musical program and dinner menu given by Keyes, related to the writing of Steamboat Gothic. (MSS 3932. Gift of Frances Parkinson Keyes. Photograph by Petrina Jackson).

That concludes the “Ks” of Special Collections. Catch us in two weeks when we explore “Ls.”

Curating Yoko Ono

Posted on September 9, 2013 by

Anyone who has ever curated or installed an exhibition of books and manuscripts knows that these materials are inherently impossible to exhibit effectively. While paintings and sculpture are created with the intention of exhibition, most of the artifacts we hold are not. Visitors can only see one page of any multipage document, and artifacts that were made to be held in one’s hands and experienced intimately are relatively far away, usually behind glass. Curators are always looking for ways to transcend these difficulties. We hem and haw over writing lengthy descriptions in labels. If we have funds, we create high-quality facsimiles of hidden pages or even a “page-turner” digital facsimile of the complete artifact.

Who knew effective display could involve smashing china cups to smithereens?

Here is the curator, hard at work. (Photo by Alicia Dietrich)

I have just finished installing our latest exhibition, “Magazines Unbound: Periodicals as Art 1942-1983.” This project reveals an unexpected strength in our collections: magazines conceived of as formal artistic experiments in and of themselves. Most of the magazines displayed are gatherings of paper or even objects into folders, envelopes, and boxes, rather than bound as books. This makes them, in some ways, ideal for exhibition.

The 1950s west-coast Beat magazine Semina displays beautifully, since most of its contents are loose sheets. Shown are most of the contents of Semina 8 being prepared for exhibition (PS 580 .S45, Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photo by Molly Schwartzburg)

But two of the magazines–Aspen and S.M.S.–were venues for conceptual artists in the 1960s, who had a penchant for works of art that remain incomplete without the participation of the reader or viewer. Among the objects included are records and audio and video tapes that need to be played, instructions for writing a poem, templates for boxes that need to be glued together, and a paper doll and candy-wrapper that need to be cut out. What’s a curator to do?

I chose to let all the works stand incomplete with one exception: Yoko Ono’s “Mend Piece for John,” shown below.

Yoko Ono's *****. From S.M.S. 5 (October 1968).

Yoko Ono’s “Mend Piece for John,”. From S.M.S. 5 (October 1968). (N1 .S15, University of Virginia Library Associates Fund. Image by Molly Schwartzburg)

A tube of glue is wrapped with a poem, and attached to a plastic bag with a satin ribbon. Inside the bag is a set of typed instructions:

Take your favorite cup.

Break it in many pieces with a hammer.

Repair it with this glue and this poem.

The poem wrapped around the tube of glue in Ono's piece.

This poem comes wrapped around the tube of glue in Ono’s piece with a rubber band. After unwrapping it to be sure I knew what it included, I took a quick snapshot for reference purposes before carefully rewrapping it. (Photo by Molly Schwartzburg)

How could I resist? A friend was visiting from out of town, so we went out to The Factory, my favorite antique mall out in the Shenandoah Valley, where we selected two cheap but visually appealing teacups. “But wait,” you say. “Didn’t the instructions specify that it be ‘your favorite cup’?” Well…let’s just say I wasn’t ready to make that kind of sacrifice for work. It was still a pretty profound experience.

We prepared to destroy the teacups in my front yard. (Photo by Molly Schwartzburg)

No tortillas were harmed in the making of this artwork. But it only took one try to shatter each cup. This was the fun part.

No tortillas were harmed in the making of this artwork. It only took one blow to shatter each cup. This was the easy part. (Photo by Alicia Dietrich)

The glueing was fun at first, and then we realized how long it was going to take. We had to sit very still holding each piece for at least 15 or 20 minutes before we could safely let it go. So we sat, talked, glued, talked, and mended. It was wonderful. (Photo by Molly Schwartzburg)

Here’s the final view of the item in the exhibition, with all the other materials in S.M.S. 5. (Photo by Molly Schwartzburg)

I can’t say that visitors to the exhibit will understand the piece fully just because they can view its final result in the cases. But my friend and I discovered that the process itself, even modified, was wonderfully meditative. There is something about mending a cup, slowly and deliberately, that is itself healing, we discovered. Even if the cup is no longer usable. I’ll look forward to taking these results back home after the exhibition comes down.

You can view Ono’s piece in the exhibition “Magazines Unbound: Periodicals as Art 1942-1983” in the First Floor Gallery until January 5, 2014.

This Just In: Summer Beach Reading, Part II

Posted on August 29, 2013 by

Some of our summer beach reading: 19th-century American fiction newly added to the Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature

You may have noticed that “This Just In” took a brief summer hiatus. Yes, it’s true: we were vacationing at the beach, reading! Catching up, not with the latest Dan Brown thriller, but with an influx of 19^th-century American fiction to the Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. It is unlikely that any of these works ever made the best-seller list, but we recommend them to you nonetheless, for they significantly enrich the Barrett Library’s holdings in interesting ways.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, Septimius: a romance. London: Henry S. King & Co., 1872. (PS1872 .S4 1872d)

The Barrett Library is so comprehensive for major American authors that it is hard to believe that it lacked a Nathaniel Hawthorne first edition! But only this spring did we obtain the true first edition of Septimius: a romance. Left unfinished at Hawthorne’s death, Septimius was prepared for publication by his daughter Una with assistance from Robert Browning. The first edition appeared in London in 1872, with the first American edition, retitled Septimius Felton: the elixir of life, following two months later. Initially well received, Septimius was soon deemed a “failure” by critics, though there are signs of renewed scholarly interest in Hawthorne’s “romance of immortality.”

Catherine Eaves, How I twice eloped: an Indiana idyll. Chicago: Oak Print. and Pub. Co., 1901. (PS1567 .E36 H6 1901)

Catherine Eaves, How I twice eloped: an Indiana idyll. Chicago: Oak Printing and Publishing Co., 1901. (PS1567 .E36 H6 1901)

Did you know that Abraham Lincoln authored a short novel? Neither did we, until we encountered at a small book fair a copy in original illustrated wrappers of How I twice eloped: an Indiana idyll, billed as “the only novelette ever sketched by Abraham Lincoln.” Actually, a closer perusal reveals a sort of Lincolnesque tall tale, as Lincoln’s agency in this work was scant indeed. How I twice eloped was penned, we are told, by Catherine Eaves, a member of the Lincoln Literary Society in Hoosier Heights, Indiana, a stone’s throw from Lincoln’s boyhood home near the banks of the Ohio River. (Or perhaps the true author was the copyright holder, Albert Alberg.) Taking her cue from an anecdote (related in Ida Tarbell’s recently published Life of Abraham Lincoln) that Lincoln reputedly told about his youth in Indiana, Eaves “elaborated” it into a short novel. How I twice eloped is one of many fascinating works of regional American fiction to be found in the Barrett Library.

Lois Waisbrooker, Nothing like it: or, steps to the kingdom. New York: Murray Hill Publishing Co., 1885. (PS3129 .W38 N68 1885)

As the 19^th century progressed, women’s issues loomed ever larger in American literature. Lois Waisbrooker was one of many who sought to advance the cause of women’s rights through didactic fiction. Born Adeline Eliza Nichols, Waisbrooker adopted a new name and a feminist outlook following a forced marriage. Her career as a radical reformer led her from spiritualism to anarchism, but it was as an advocate of women’s rights and sexual freedom that she was best known. Nothing like it: or, steps to the kingdom, first published in 1875, takes free love, public morals, and the true meaning of marriage as its ambitious subject. The Barrett Library still lacks the first edition, but we have acquired the second edition, published in New York in 1885 by the Murray Hill Publishing Co.—the publishing arm of free speech and birth control advocate Edward Bliss Foote.

Henri Gordon, Alva Vine, or, art versus duty. New York: American News Co., 1880. (PS1757 .G42 A7 1880)

The changing role of women is addressed from a different perspective by Henri Gordon in Alva Vine; or, art versus duty, published in 1880. Noting that “one class now rapidly developing in the United States” is that of the career woman, Gordon tells the fictional story of opera singer Alva Vine, who “thinks and acts for herself as an individual endeavoring to do right and follow the dictation of the spirit given her for self direction, without regard to prejudices or received ideas of the exact boundaries of woman’s sphere, or the right she has to be a self-poised untrammeled, helpful woman, being bound only by a sense of duty and good judgment.” The novel is also interesting for its two “Artotype” illustrations, which are unrelated to the text. These probably were inserted at the request and expense of the Artotype patent holder in order to advertise this new photomechanical process. In any case, this is a very early use of Artotype for book illustration.

James Daly, The little blind god on rails: a romaunt of the Gold Northwest. Chicago: Rand, McNally & Co., 1888. (PS1499 .D87 L5 1888)

Another unusual late 19^th-century example of “product placement” in American fiction is The little blind god on rails: a romaunt of the Gold Northwest, published in Chicago in 1888. This large-format work, authored by “James Daly” (pseudonym of Frank S. Gray) and profusely illustrated by True Williams (who earlier had illustrated Tom Sawyer), was written to promote leisure travel to the American northwest on board the Chicago & North-Western Railway. Train travel is the true hero of this tale, whose human characters, when not enjoying the sights or pursuing the “little blind god” (i.e. Love), extol the comfort and convenience of riding the rails.

J. McHenry Jones, Hearts of gold: a novel. Wheeling [W.Va.]: Daily Intelligencer Steam Job Press, 1896. (PS2151 .J28 H43 1896)

The Barrett Library has also acquired a fine copy of Hearts of gold, the only novel published by J. McHenry Jones. An African American born in Gallipolis, Ohio, in 1859, Jones distinguished himself academically before moving to West Virginia in 1882. There he became a leader in the African American community, serving as a school principal and president of what is now West Virginia State University, a prominent member of fraternal organizations, a Republican Party stalwart, and newspaper editor. Jones opens Hearts of gold, published in 1896, in an idealized African American settlement north of the Mason-Dixon line. Its protagonists then move southward to attend a fraternal gathering, only to fall prey to the new forms of racial injustice being instituted by whites in the post-Civil War South.

Faddeĭ Bulgarin, Ivan Vejeeghen, or, life in Russia. Philadelphia: Carey and Lea, 1832. (PG3321 .B8 I815 1832)

Thanks in part to the enterprise of British publishers—and to the absence of international copyright agreements—19^th-century American readers also had access to a surprisingly broad range of foreign literature in translation. In 1832, for instance, the Philadelphia firm of Carey and Lea—then the American publisher of James Fenimore Cooper’s best-selling novels—offered to their readers what may be the earliest work of Russian fiction to be translated into English, and the first to be published in the United States: Faddeĭ Bulgarin’s Ivan Vejeeghen; or, life in Russia. Set in early 19^th-century Russia, Ivan Vejeeghen is less the story of its rather bland hero than a lively panorama of contemporary Russian society. Bulgarin’s novel proved popular in Europe following publication in 1829, and an English translation by George Ross followed two years later. Carey and Lea promptly reprinted Ross’s translation, presumably without permission or royalty payment, but it is unlikely that they profited much from this speculation.

ABCs of Special Collections: J is for…

Posted on August 26, 2013 by

Of course, we had to begin the letter “J” with the most famous “J” of all at the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library!

J is for the handwritten first letter of Thomas Jefferson's signature. This detail of his signature is from his famous "firebell in the night" letter to John Holmes, senator from Maine, 22 April 1820. (MSS 11619. Paul Mellon Bequest. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

J is for the handwritten first letter of Thomas Jefferson’s last name. This detail of his signature is from his famous “firebell in the night” letter to John Holmes, senator from Maine, 22 April 1820. (MSS 11619. Paul Mellon Bequest. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

J is for Jamestown

The Virginia Company of London received a charter from James I for land in Virginia in April 1606. Three ships departed London on December 20, 1606 and on May 13, 1607 the settlers selected an island on the James River as the site of James Fort, soon to be Jamestown, the first permanent English settlement in the New World. Two of the most dramatic American firsts to which Jamestown can lay claim both occurred in August 1619: the first representative assembly, and the arrival of the first enslaved Africans.

Contributed by Edward Gaynor, Head of Description and Specialist for Virginiana and University Archives

“A Pattent Graunted by His Majesty [James I, King of England] for the Plantation of Two Colonies in Virginia.” 10 April 1606. (MSS 11625. Paul Mellon Bequest. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Title page of The Generall Historie of Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles by John Smith, 1624. (A 1624 .S55. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Creation of the Virginia General Assembly and the importation of enslaved Africans are featured here on page 126 in this last paragraph of a Generall Historie of Virginia..., 1624 (A 1624. S55. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

The creation of the Virginia General Assembly and the importation of enslaved Africans are featured here on page 126 in this last paragraph of a Generall Historie of Virginia…, 1624 (A 1624. S55. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

J is for Jefferson––Joseph Jefferson

Washington Irving’s beloved character Rip Van Winkle was translated to the stage by the 19th-century actor Joseph Jefferson (1829-1905). The son of an established American theatrical family, Jefferson, who had debuted on the stage at the early age of four, sought to create his own adaptation of Irving’s story but found his 1859 rendition wanting. Five years later, Jefferson contracted with playwright Dion Boucicault to write a version of Rip Van Winkle specifically for Jefferson to perform on the London stage. His performance proved a success both in London and later in New York, and the role of Rip became synonymous with Joseph Jefferson. For nearly forty years, until his retirement in 1904, Jefferson portrayed Rip Van Winkle in his repertoire of theatrical roles.

Contributed by Margaret Hrabe, Reference Coordinator

Cover of Rip Van Winkle as Played by Joseph Jefferson. This edition contains proof impressions of all the illustrations, and portrait signed by Mr. Jefferson. One hundred copies were printed. (PS2068 .A33 1895a. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jacksobn)

Cover of Rip Van Winkle as Played by Joseph Jefferson. One hundred copies were printed. This copy contains proof impressions of all the illustrations, and portrait signed by Mr. Jefferson.(PS2068 .A33 1895a. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Front cover endpaper of Rip Van Winkle as Played by Joseph Jefferson. (PS2068 .A33 1895a. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Signed frontispiece of Rip Van Winkle as Played by Joseph Jefferson. (PS2068 .A33 1895a. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Autographed carte de visite of Joseph Jefferson as “old” Rip Van Winkle. (Barrett Print Files. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

J is for Curtiss “Jenny”

The JN-4 “Jenny” was one of a series of biplanes built by the Curtiss Aeroplane Company of Hammondsport, N.Y. Although the “Jenny” never saw combat duty, it was used chiefly as a training airplane in World War I and as many as 95% of all U.S. pilots learned to fly in a “Jenny.” At the conclusion of the war hundreds of well-trained pilots familiar with the “Jenny” returned to the U.S. The “Jenny” was the airplane of choice for many and became the workhorse of American post-war civil and commercial aviation.

Contributed by Edward Gaynor, Head of Description and Specialist for Virginiana and University Archives

Blueprint of the front elevation for the model J-N-4-D airplane, built by the Curtiss Aeroplane Company of Hammondsport, N.Y., later the Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company, 1917-1918. (MSS 10875-bv. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Blueprint of the side elevation for the model J-N-4-D airplane, built by the Curtiss Aeroplane Company of Hammondsport, N.Y., later the Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company, 1917-1918. (MSS 10875-bv. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

J is for Jerusalem by William Blake

The visionary English Romantic poet William Blake (1757-1827) is perhaps as famous for his work as an artist as for his poetry. Considered eccentric, he was not well respected as a creative figure until later in life. While Blake was an established engraver, he also received commissions for watercolors, and painted scenes from the works of Milton, Dante, Shakespeare and the Bible.
Jerusalem, the last of Blake’s great epic poems, was begun about 1804 and not completed before 1818. This first published facsimile of the book is made from the only known illuminated original. Blake printed his etchings in orange ink and illuminated them in watercolors and gold. These facsimiles are hand colored, and required 44 applications on average.

Contributed by Anne Causey, Public Services Assistant

Title page of Jerusalem: A Facsimile of the Illuminated Book by William Blake, 1951. (PR4144 .J4 1951. Gift of Sandra Elizabeth Olivier and Raymond Danowski. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Illustration from Jerusalem by William Blake (PR4144 .J4 1951. Gift of Sandra Elizabeth Olivier and Raymond Danowski. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

“End of the Song of Jerusalem” illustration (PR4144 .J4 1951. Gift of Sandra Elizabeth Olivier and Raymond Danowski. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

J is for Junkie

Published under the pseudonym William Lee, Junkie, Confessions of an Unredeemed Drug Addict was William Burroughs’s first published work. Encouraged by Allen Ginsberg to write about his experiences as a heroin addict, Junkie is a semi-autobiographical account of Burroughs’s life on the streets in the early 50’s. Junkie was roundly rejected by mainstream publishers, but eventually found a home with Ace Books, purveyors of cheap paperbacks. Junkie came out in 1953 as an ‘Ace Double,’ published along with Narcotic Agent by Maurice Helbrant.

Contribution by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

Cover of Junkie, published by ACE Double Books, 1953. (PS3552 .U75 J8 1953. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Narcotic Agent by Maurice Helbrant, which is the other book (on the reverse), published by ACE Double Books with Junkie, 1953. (PS3552 .U75 J8 1953. Marvin Tatum Collection of Contemporary Literature. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

We look forward to seeing you again when we feature the letter “K.” Until then, bye bye!