Quantcast
Channel: Patrick Spedding
Viewing all 183 articles
Browse latest View live

The Prodigal Daughter; Or, Anna Taylor's Warning

$
0
0

The Prodigal Daughter; Or, A Strange and Wonderful Relation (or, indeed, The Disobedient Lady Reclaimed) is an eighteenth-century chapbook story about a "proud and disobedient daughter" who, at the instigation of the devil, attempts to poison her parents.

None of the early editions of this 248-line poem are dated, and the date-ranges suggested for the seventeen editions on ESTC are fairy wide, but a copy held by the American Antiquarian Society appears to be the earliest. It can be dated to "between 1742 and 1754" by the woodcut ornaments that appear before and after the text.

It is not possible to establish an exact sequence for the following sixteen editions on ESTC, but my copy—the 1799 edition printed in Hartford—is the last listed. Three copies of this edition are listed on ESTC, which is more than almost every other edition of the story. So, definitely a rare book.


When I went looking online for information about this story I pretty-much drew a blank. No copies of the text, no discussion of the story, and only a few brief mentions (and a few short quotes) appear in any of the books scanned by Google. I thought this was pretty odd, given the nature of the story, which I will summarise here:

The "fair" daughter of a Bristol merchant—guilty of disobedience, "Swearing and whoring, sabbath breaking too"—responds to her father's attempt to humble her pride by vowing to sell her soul for the money he has threatened to withhold. When he "strip[s] her of her rich array," said daughter calls upon the devil who advises her to poison her parents, which she promptly does.

But, the parents are tipped off by a meddling angel, and so they feed the poisoned meal to their dog! What the dog did to deserve to be knowingly-poisoned in this way, and what punishment the parents face for murdering their innocent dog, is not explained.

The daughter is confronted with her crime, swoons, and as the title-page says "lay in a trance four days; and when she was put into the grave, she came to life again, and related the wonderful things she saw in the other world." (That is, how she was denied entrance into Heaven, argued with the gate-keeper, is shown "the burning lake of misery", repents etc.)


The story is predicable, but fun. You have to wonder whether the story was bought and read by adults and children alike for its no-nonsense heroine and supernatural silliness (i.e, for fun), or if it was only bought by dour parents, who forced their children to read the tale in the vain hope that said long-suffering children would repent from [insert insignificant moral infraction] before trying their hand at poisoning.


Interestingly, this copy is inscribed "Anna Taylor's Book" in a contemporary hand. So perhaps, this didactic tale was Anna Taylor's warning from her parents: give up your disobedience, sabbath breaking, swearing and whoring(!), before you are dragged off to hell.

And, on that happy thought, here is the text of the 1799 edition [ESTC: w26926; Evans, 36166].

* * * * *

The Prodigal Daughter; Or, A Strange and Wonderful Relation. Shewing, how a Gentleman of great estate in Bristol, had a proud and disobedient daughter, who, because her parents would not support her in all her extravagance, bargained with the devil to poison them. How an angel informed them of her design. How she lay in a trance four days; and when she was put into the grave, she came to life again, and related the wonderful things she saw in the other world (Hartford: Printed for the Travelling Booksellers, 1799).

The Prodigal Daughter; Or, The Disobedient Lady Reclaimed.

LET every wicked graceless child attend,
And listen to these lines that here are penn'd;
God grant it may to all a warning be,
To love their parents and shun bad company.
  No further off than Bristol, now of late,
A gentleman lived of a vast estate,
And he had but one only daughter fair,
Whom he most tenderly did love so dear.
  They kept her clothed in costly rich array,
And as the child grew up, for truth they say,
Her heart with pride was lifted up so high,
She fix'd her whole delight in vanity.
  Each sinful course did to her pleasant seem,
And of the holy scriptures made a game,
At length her patents did begin to see,
Their tender kindness would her ruin be.
  Her mother thus to her began to speak,
My child, the course you run my heart will break,
The tender love which we to you have shown,
I fear will cause our tender hearts to groan.
  Come, come, my child, this course in time refrain,
And serve the LORD now in your youthful prime,
For if in this your wicked course you run,
Your soul and body both will be undone.
  Laughing and scoffing at her mother, she
Said, Pray now trouble not yourself with me,
Why do you talk to me of heaven's joy?
My youthful pleasures all for to destroy?
  I am not certain what I shall possess,
After that I've resign'd my vital breath,
I nothing for another world do care,
Therefore I'll take my pleasure while I'm here.
  The mother said, my child, how do you know
How soon your pride into the dust may go?
For young as well as old to death bow down,
And you must die God only knows how soon.
  She from her mother in a passion went,
Filling her aged heart with discontent;
She wrung her hands and to her husband said,
She's ruin'd, soul and body, I'm afraid.
  Her father said, her pride I will pull down,
Money to spend no more, I'll give her none,
I'll make her humble before I have done,
Or else forever I will her disown.
  All night she from her father's house did stray,
Next morning she came home by break of day,
Her father he did ask her where she'd been?
She straightway answer'd What was that to him.
  He said your haughty pride I will pull down,
Money to spend of me you shall have none,
She said, if you deny me what I crave,
I'll fell my foul, for money I will have.
  Her father stripped her of her rich array,
And then he drest her in a russet grey,
And to her chamber he did her confine,
With bread and water fed her for some time.
  Altho' their hearts did ache for her full sore,
This course they took her soul for to restore,
But all in vain, she wanted heaven's grace,
And sin within her heart had taken place.
  One night as in her room she musing were,
The devil in her room did then appear,
In shape and person like a gentleman,
And seemingly he took her by the hand.
  He said, fair creature, why do you lament?
Why is your heart thus fill'd with discontent?
She said, my parents cruel are to me,
And keep me here to starve in misery.
  The devil said, if you'll be rul'd by me,
Reveng'd on them you certainly shall be.
Seem to be humble, tell them you repent,
And soon you'll find their hearts for to relent.
  And when your father he doth use you kind,
An opportunity you soon will find,
Poison your father and your mother too,
There's none will know who 'twas the fact did do.
  This wicked wretch quite void of grace and shame,
Seemed to be well pleased at the same,
She said, your counsel I'm resolv'd to take,
And be reveng'd for what they've done of late.
  Where do you live? pray tell me where to come,
That I may tell you when the job is done.
He said, my name is Satan, and I dwell
In the dark regions of the burning hell.
  At first she seem'd to be something surpriz'd,
But want of grace so blinded had her eyes,
She said, well sir, if you the devil be,
I'll take the counsel which you gave to me.
  But mind what wonders God does every hour,
His mercies are above the devil's power,
He will his servants keep both night and day,
From the devouring subtle serpent's prey.
  Next day, when she her father's face did see,
She instantly did fall upon her knee,
Saying; father now my wicked heart relents,
And for my sins I heartily repent.
  Her father then with tears did her embrace,
Saying, I'm blest for this small spark of grace,
That heaven hath my, child bestow'd on thee;
No more I'll use you with such cruelty.
  Unto her mother then straightway he goes,
And told to her the blest and happy news.
Her mother was rejoic'd then for her part,
Not knowing of the mischief in her heart.
  But the Almighty her designs did know,
And 'twas his blessed will it should be so,
That other graceless children they might see,
All things are done by heaven's great decree.
  The poison strong she privately had bought,
And only then the fatal time she sought,
To work the fall of these her parents dear,
Who'd brought her up with tender love and care,
  One night her parents sleeping were in bed,
Nothing but troubled dreams run in their head;
At length an angel did to them appear,
Saying, awake, and unto me give ear.
  A messenger I'm sent by heaven kind,
To let you know your deaths are both design'd,
Your graceless child whom you do love so dear,
She for your precious lives hath laid a snare.
  To poison you, the devil tempts her so,
She hath no power from the snare to go;
But God such care doth of his servants take,
Those that believe on him he'll not forsake.
  You must not use her cruel and severe,
For tho' to you these things I do declare,
It is to shew you what the Lord can do,
He soon can turn her heart, you'll find it so.
  Pray to the Lord his grace for to send down,
And like the prodigal she will return;
The fatted calf with joy you'll kill that day,
The angels shall rejoice in heaven high,
  Because a wretched sinner doth repent,
Who in vice and sin her time hath spent.
This pious couple then awoke we hear,
And soon the angel he did disappear.
  They to each other did the vision tell,
And from this time we'll mark her actions well,
And if this vision unto pass does come,
We'll praise the Lord for such great favors done.
  Next morning she rose early, as we hear,
And for her parents' breakfast did prepare,
And in the fame she put the poison strong,
And brought it unto them when she had done.
  Her father took the victuals which she bro't,
And down the same unto the dog he set,
Who ate the food and instantly did die;
The case was plain, she could not it deny.
  They call'd her there the sight for to behold,
Which when she saw, her spirits soon ran cold,
She cry'd, the devil hath me now deceiv'd,
I've miss'd my aim, for which I'm sorely griev'd.
  Her mother said, hard is the fate of me,
I've been a tender mother unto thee,
And can you seek to take my life away?
Oh graceless child! what will become of thee?
  With bitter pains my child, I did you bear,
I taught you how the Lord of life to fear,
Whole days and nights I did in labor spend,
To bring you up, now to my discontent.
  Quite void of grace you in your sins do run,
You flight my counsel after all I've done,
Instead of obedience which you ought to pay,
Your parents' lives you seek to take away.
  When thus she heard her tender mother speak,
She in a swoon did drop down at her feet,
With all the arts that e'er they could contrive,
They could not bring her spirit to revive.
  Four days they kept her, when they did prepare,
To lay her body in the dust we hear,
At her funeral a sermon then was preach'd,
All other wicked children for to teach,
  How they should fear their tender parents kind,
Their words observe their counsel for to mind,
And then their days will long be in this land,
All things will prosper which they take in hand.
  So close the Reverend Divine did lay
This charge, that many wept that there did stay
To hear the sermon, and her parents dear
Were overwhelm'd with sorrow, grief and care.
  The sermon being over and quite done,
To lay her body in the dust they come,
But suddenly they bitter groans did hear,
Which much surprized all that then were there.
  At length they did perceive the dismal sound
Come from the body just laid under ground;
The coffin then they did draw up again,
And in a fright they opened the same,
  When soon they found that she was yet alive,
Her mother seeing that the did survive,
Did praise the Lord, in hopes she would have time
And would repent of all her heinous crimes.
  She in her coffin then was carried home,
And when unto her father's house she come,
She in her coffin sat and did admire
Her winding sheet, and thus she did desire
  The worthy minister for to sit down,
And she would tell the wonders which were shown
Unto her, since her soul had took its flight:
She'd seen the regions of eternal night.
  She said, when first my soul did hence depart,
For to relate the story grieves my heart,
I handed was to lonesome wild desarts,
And briery woods, which dismal were and dark.
  The briars tore my flesh, the gore did run,
I call'd for mercy but I could find none;
But I at length a glimpse of light did spy,
And heard a voice which unto me did cry,
  Now sinful soul observe and you shall see
How precious does that light appear to thee?
But in the regions of eternal night
You never must expect for to see light.
  Now hasten to that light which does appear,
And there your sentence you shall quickly hear.
I hearing this did hasten then along,
At length unto a spacious gate I come.
  I knock'd aloud, but no one answer made;
At length one did appear to me and said,
"What want you here?" I answered to come in,
He ask'd my name then shut the gate again.
  He staid awhile then to the door did come,
He said be gone, for you there is no room,
For we have no such graceless wretches here,
That disobey their tender parents dear.
  I sorely wept, and to the man thus said,
Am I the first that parents disobey'd?
If all be cast in hell who thus do sin,
Few at this gate I fear will enter in.
  He said but you have been a sinner wild,
In things besides a disobedient child,
Swearing and whoring, sabbath breaking too,
Therefore be gone, for here's no rest for you.
  I said, Sir, hear me, and remember pray,
How holy David he did run astray,
A man whose heart once with the Lord did join,
Adultery and murder was his crime.
  He said, like David you did not return,
For he in ashes for his sins did mourn,
And God is merciful you well do know,
Free to forgive all those that humble so.
  I still my case with him pursu'd to plead,
And told him, Sir, in scripture I did read,
How Mary Magdalen, who here doth rest,
At once by many devils was possest.
  Go silly woman, he did answer then,
Had you so much lamented for your sin,
And mercy at your Saviour's feet implor'd,
For all your fins, he had your soul restor'd.
  I said in prison she her Saviour saw:
He said, you may behold him every day,
He ne'er leaves those that in his mercy trust,
He's always with the pious and the just.
  In holy scripture there he doth appear,
Read the apostles, and you'll find him there;
You mull believe, if that you sav'd will be,
That Christ for sinners died upon a tree.
  Then save me Lord, I to him did reply,
For I believe that Christ for me did die;
Lord let my soul return from whence it came,
And I will honour thy most holy name.
  A voice I heard, which said to me return,
But first behold the wretched place of doom,
Where the reward of sin is justly paid.
I turn'd about, but sadly was dismay'd.
  I saw the burning lake of misery,
I saw the man there that first tempted me,
My loving tender parents for to slay,
And he both fierce and grim did look at me.
  He told me he at last was sure of me.
I said, my Saviour's blood has set me free.
Then in a hideous manner he did roar,
When God my senses did to me restore.
  When thus the story she to them had told,
She said, put me to bed for I am cold,
And then these my tender parents dear,
Whom I will always honour while I'm here.
  To them the sacrament she did require,
They gave it her then as she did desire,
And now she is a Christian just and true,
No more her wicked vices doth pursue.
  I hope this will a good example be,
Children your parents honour and obey,
And then the Lord will bless you here on earth,
And give you crowns of glory after death.

FINIS.

The Centre for the Book at Monash

$
0
0
I was recently asked by Dr Stephen Herrin, Rare Books Assistant Librarian, to write the Preface to an exhibition entitled "Books Never Die: An Exhibition on the History of the Book" (see here). While I was writing it I wanted to say a few words about the study of Book History at Monash and it occurred to me it was time to do a post on the subject here. It has been difficult piecing together information on the subject so I will do what I can now and correct, update or add information as it comes to hand.

* * * * *

Since 1982, The Centre for the Book has existed, at different times, under changing University (1982–84), Faculty (1985–97), Department (1998), and School (1999–) management. The Centre for the Book was reconstituted as a School of English, Communications and Performance Studies "research unit" in 2010. The management of all research units at Monash is in flux and so the future of the Centre for the Book is unclear. Again. But to look backwards …

In terms of name, as far as I can tell, The Centre for Bibliographical and Textual Studies existed from 1982 until 1998, when it was re-named The Centre for the Book. Apparently, Monash is unhappy about the liberal use of the term centre across the university, and there was some suggestion in 2009 that the name would have to be changed in 2010, but fortunately this did not happen.

As I said, the Centre for the Book is presently a research unit in the School of English, Communications and Performance Studies (ECPS; 2005–), previously the School of Literary, Visual and Performance Studies (LVPS; 1999–2005), which was formed in 1999 from an amalgamation of two departments (including English) and three centres (including the CftB).

(It is unclear whether the recent amalgamation, and renaming, of the English Department to create the "Literature Section" will force another name-change on the School—ECPS being the "School of English…" etc.)

Wal Kirsop was the "Chairman of the Committee for the Centre" from 1982 to 1991, then it was Ross Harvey (1992–93); Bryan Coleborne (1994–96); Harold Love (1997); Wal Kirsop (1998–2009). In 2010 Simone Murray became the Director of the Centre and in 2012 Anna Polletti and I became Co-Directors.

* * * * *

The Centre is the institutional body that represents bibliographers and book historians at Monash, but Monash had an active group of researchers in this field before the Centre was formed in 1982. (Wal Kirsop provided some details about this period, including the roles of Roger Laufer, Harold Love, Arthur Brown, Clive Probyn, Mary Lord etc, which I posted here.)

Monash academics (especially Wal Kirsop and Harrold Love) were instrumental in the establishment of the Bibliographical Society of Australia and New Zealand (BSANZ) in February 1969. Indeed, Wal was both a foundation-member of the BSANZ and its foundation-President (from 1969-73). And, as Brian McMullin noted recently, the journals published by BSANZ:

[have had] an Australian emphasis: within Australia it has had a Melbourne emphasis, and within Melbourne a Monash University emphasis, in that Monash has supplied several of the editors (among them two of its graduates) and has been the institutional home of what might be seen as a disproportionate number of its authors (B. J. McMullin, "Forty Years On" Script and Print 35:2 (2011): 106–7)

Since Brian does not enumerate the BSANZ Bulletin and Script & Print editors, I will do so, with details of which issues were edited by each editor where I have that information

Harold Love [staff] (vol.1, no.1–vol.2, no.3; March 1970–December 1975)
Brian McMullin [staff] (vol.2, no.4–vol.7, no.2; August 1976–July 1983)
Brian Hubber [Graduate], John Arnold [Graduate], Richard Overell [staff] (1993)
Ross Harvey [staff] (1995?)
Ian Morrison [Graduate] (vol.24, no. 3—vol.27, no.4; 2000–2003)
Patrick Spedding [Graduate] (vol.30–33; 2006–8)

As you can see, there are more than two Monash graduates in this list.

* * * * *

The Graduate School of Librarianship was established at Monash in 1976, offering masters courses in book history shortly thereafter. The Ancora Press and a weekly seminar series were immediately established by Jean Whyte. Thanks to Brian McMullin—a foundation lecturer—I have recordings of some of these early seminars, which suggest the scope of the series:

1. John Spring, "The Use of Type-Evidence in the Identification of the Work of Joseph Bennett, A Printer of the Restoration" (27 February 1976), [39.18 mins]

2. Wallace Kirsop, "On Pierre Corneille's Le Cid" (22 April 1976) [46.03 mins]

3. David Bradley and B. J. McMullin, "Textual Problems and Playhouse Copy; Consideration of Some Editorial Orthodoxies" (23 July 1976) [1hr 59.45 mins]

4. Angus Martin, "Specialized Retrospective Checklists: the example of eighteenth-century French Fiction" (8 Oct 1976) [1hr 38.05 mins]

5. Wallace Kirsop, "Bibliographical Detection" (14 October 1977) [1hr 03.07 mins]


* * * * *

From the above it appears that much of the energy of Harold and Wal went into establishing the BSANZ in the early 70s, and that it was only after they had been joined by Brian and others at Monash that the idea of a research Centre at Monash was seriously contemplated.

I am told that in the very early 1980s the Fraser Government proposed establishing ten research centres across Australia. A proposal was hastily assembled by Harold and Brian (Wal was in Cambridge at the time) for a Centre for Bibliographical and Textual Studies at Monash to undertake research for the Early Imprint Project** and to prepare scholarly editions. The Centre was unsuccessful in its bid, but redirected its proposal to the University (sans the request for money), and it was accepted.

Wal and Brian had been responsible for editing all issues of the BSANZ Bulletin from 1970 until this time. Shortly after the Centre was established (in 1982) the editorship was passed on to Trevor Mills (in 1983), allowing Brian and others at Monash to concentrate on Centre activities—including the development of an the interdisciplinary MA in Bibliographical and Textual Studies (restructured in 1994, but was still available in 2001).

Although, I am told, there were few graduates of the Monash "Master of Arts, Centre for Bibliographical and Textual Studies", I have been able to identify four students who produced important work between 1989 and 1999:

1. Linley Horrocks, "The creation of the Anzac market 1914-1918: the role of the press and the book trade" (MA thesis, 1989).

2. John Arnold, "The Fanfrolico Press: history and bibliography" (MA thesis, 1994). ¶ John's Fanfrolico Press: Satyrs, Fauns & Fine Books (Private Libraries Association, 2009) was reviewed by Nathan Garvey in Script & Print 36.2 (2012).

3. Laurel J. Clark, "Aspects of Melbourne book trade history: innovation and specialisation in the careers of F.F. Bailliere and Margareta Webber" (MA thesis, 1997).

4. Peter Pereyra, "Crime-fiction: from publisher to reader" (MA thesis, 1999).


Some significant work—both published and in theses—has also come out of both the "Bibliography and Textual Scholarship" unit and the "Analytical and Descriptive Bibliography" unit, which was offered by the Centre as an elective to M.A., M.Lib. and a few other candidates. This includes:

1. Annemie Gilbert and Sylvia Ransom, "The Imposition of Eighteenmos in Sixes, With Special Reference to Tranchefiles" BSANZ Bulletin 4:4 (1980), 269–75.

2. Penny McCristal, " '$&frac12’ as a statement of signing" BSANZ Bulletin 19:3 (1995), 209–12.


* * * * *

By the time that the Centre was reconstituted in 2010 the principle academics involved in its earlier history had all retired and it was no longer possible for the remaining (emeritus) staff associated with the Centre to teach or take on higher-degree student supervisions. In the eyes of the university, this was a serious problem.

Of course, the Centre remained active in its research and publishing programme, in an academic seminar series, and in obtaining grant funding. And Wal and Brian took an active role in mentoring scholars like myself. (Without the assistance of Wal, Brian and others associated with the Centre, I would never have been able to take on the editorship of Script and Print and get it back up to date in such a short period.)

But, when all ECPS research units were reconstituted in 2010 as research-only units, the Centre needed a director with an outstanding research record who could supervise MA and PhD students. This was Simone.

Interestingly, teaching was specifically excluded from the purview of the new research units, although mentoring—and building the number of—M.A. and Ph.D. students were each among the KPIs. But with the recent university-wide move to force a coursework component on all MA and PhD students—it may be that research units will have some involvement with teaching in future. If so, there is a slight chance that some sort of Centre for the Book unit will be available to MA and PhD students again.

(A brief explanation: All research units and all new MA and PhD students will be administered within a program which is aligned with Field of Research codes (such as 2005–Literary Studies), by a program-manager, and will be supervised by Monash Institute of Graduate Research-approved, research-active staff, affiliated with that program. It seems likely that MA and PhD students will be offered coursework units that are aligned—at least to a certain extent—with the focus of research units within each program. If so, it seems likely that staff in the research units within each program will be called on to do the coursework teaching, as well as the supervision.)

Whether or not research units return to coursework teaching, the Centre for the Book at Monash has a small group of talented PhD students associated with it already and a steady stream of enquiries from would-be students suggests that this group will continue to grow.

**The aim of the Early Imprint Project (subsequently the Australian Book Heritage Resources Project) was to compile a short-title catalogue "in machine readable form" of all books published before 1801 held in Australasian libraries. See B. J. McMullin, "The Australia and New Zealand Early Imprints Project: The Background" BSANZ Bulletin 6:4 (1982), 163–73.

* * * * *

Bryan Coleborne, Chairman of the Committee for the Centre from 1994–96, records some of his thoughts about both the centre and the future of teaching bibliography and book history in his "Course Design and Analytical Bibliography" BSANZ Bulletin 20:3 (1996), 213–17.

Brian McMullin records some of his thoughts in "Bibliography in the Library School at Monash" BSANZ Bulletin 20:3 (1996), 218–20; "Forty Years On" Script and Print 35:2 (2011): 106–7.

The Mothers of the Novel Series

$
0
0
Pandora's "Mothers of the Novel" series was either prompted by, or promoted by—and with—Dale Spender's Mothers of the Novel: 100 good women writers before Jane Austen.

[Spender's MotN; rear cover here]

There are twenty novels in the series, printed in paperback, with a distinctive cover illustration by Marion Dalley, between 1986 and 1989. (Only sixteen are listed on Wikipedia here but all twenty were listed on Library Thing by christiguc in September of 2008.) My list is below.


There are different ways of listing the MotN novels: alphabetical, by author, date of original publications, date of republication, and ISBN order. I have opted for date of original publications because my main interest coincides with Spender's sub-title ("100 good women writers before Jane Austen").

Jane Austen's first published novel was Sense and Sensibility (1811) so my first interest is "which novels in this series were published (or written, I guess) before 1811?" As you can see further below, the answer is only the first fifteen because this series contains novels printed as late as 1834.

The 1834 text is Maria Edgeworth's final novel, Helen: I think it, and Maria Edgeworth's other novels, should also have been excluded from the series on the basis that they had been reprinted in the nineteenth century with reasonable regularity and were, therefore, accessible to readers interested in women writers "before Jane Austen." (Macmillan included five novels in its Carnford series and these beautiful books were reprinted in pocket format in the 1920s.)

Personally, I would also have excluded all of Mary Brunton's and Lady Morgan's novels too, because one of each autor's works post-date 1811 too, but the real reason is I'd like to have seen more of the early eighteenth-century novels …

* * * * *

I bought my copy of Spender's Mothers of the Novel on 11 November 1991 and had read it eight days later. Before finishing it I had bought two of the novels in the series (Sheridan's Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph and Smith's The Old Manor House) and I bought another two in the following few weeks: Brunton's Discipline and Haywood's History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless—my first book by Haywood.

Looking back over my diary of purchases: I see that I bought 109 books in the month following 9 November. These include eighteenth-century novels (Burney's Cecilia and Evelina, Fielding's The Adventures of David Simple and Wollstonecraft's Mary), but also a stack of Austen, Eliot and Woolf, and I also snapped up Ellen Moers's Literary Women and Roger Lonsdale's Eighteenth-Century Women Poets.

All this book-buying is simply a reflection of a rapidly-growing enthusiasm for eighteenth-century literature, early women writers and feminist literary scholarship. I bought Spender because I was already interested in all three subjects, but Mothers of the Novel gave a focus to my interest. And so, when I was looking around for a suitable PhD topic a few years, later I returned to Mothers of the Novel for inspiration.

At first, I thought I would test Spender's thesis: that one hundred women writers had been tremendously popular before Jane Austen but had since been overlooked by a sexist literary establishment. Or rather, which women writers had been tremendously popular before Jane Austen, before they had been overlooked by a sexist literary establishment.

I was going to do this by combing every eighteenth- and early-nineteenth-century biographical dictionary and work of nascent literary scholarship to see which women had been highly regarded in the eighteenth century. (I still have the list of names: who was in the dictionaries etc, who wasn't.)

I quickly realised that many (most?) of the "good women writers before Jane Austen" had not been recognised as such in the eighteenth century. The opposite, in fact, seemed to be true. Whatever their popularity, these "good women writers" were despised. So my next thought was choosing a group of these despised writers and tracking their fortunes: their popularity and critical reception.

I narrowed my long list down to three: "the fair triumvirate of wit". Amazingly, there is a Wikipedia page on this phrase (here) which explains: "The fair triumvirate of wit refers to the three 18th century authors Eliza Haywood, Delarivier Manley, and Aphra Behn."

Regualr readers of this blog will know what happened next: I started on Haywood, realised that if I were to do a proper study of her popularity and reception I'd need to do a full bibliography to establish what, in fact, she had written and how often her works had been reprinted. My scholarship money ran out after three and a half years. My bibliography/PhD took ten.

When my Bibliography of Eliza Haywood was published I dedicated it to Spender—despite the fact that, by then, I knew that Spender was wrong about many of the things she had to say on Haywood. Still, without the fire she put in my belly with her Mothers of the Novel in November 1991 I would not have been able to put up with all the crap that goes with being a doctoral candidate for a decade.

(On this subject I often feel like quoting Johnson's letter to Chesterfield, particularly the famous tricolon: "The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it: till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron, which providence has enabled me to do for myself." The fit is awkward but it is probably better if I do not explain the application.)

* * * * *

Returning to Spender's Mothers of the Novel: the back cover of my copy contains a list of fifteen titles in the "Mothers of the Novel" series (here). This list puzzled me, since it was not in alphabetical order, by author or title, or date of original publications. It turns out that these fifteen titles are in the sequence they appeared in the MotN series, which is more-or-less the sequence of ISBNs. I am sure that made sense to Pandora …

And so, at the risk of confusing any visitors to this site, here is my list of all twenty MotN titles, in chronological order according to the original date of publication:

MotN no.01  Sarah Fielding, The Governess, or The Little Female Academy (1749; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-182-X].

MotN no.02  Eliza Haywood, The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless (1751; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-090-4].

MotN no.03  Charlotte Lennox, The Female Quixote, or the Adventures of Arabella (1752; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-080-7].

MotN no.04  Frances Sheridan, Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidulph (1761; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-134-X].

MotN no.05  Mary Hamilton, Munster Village (1778; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-133-1].

MotN no.06  Charlotte Smith, Emmeline: The Orphan of the Castle (1788; repr. 1989) [ISBN: 0-86358-264-8].

MotN no.07  Elizabeth Inchbald, A Simple Story (1791; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-136-6].

MotN no.08  Charlotte Smith, The Old Manor House (1793; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-135-8].

MotN no.09  Eliza Fenwick, Secrecy, or The Ruin of the Rock (1795; repr. 1988) [ISBN 0-86358-307-5].

MotN no.10  Mary Hays, The Memoirs of Emma Courtney (1796; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-132-3].

MotN no.11  Harriet and Sophia Lee, The Canterbury Tales (1797–1805; repr. 1989) [ISBN: 0-86358-308-3]

MotN no.12  Maria Edgeworth, Belinda (1801; repr. 1986; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-074-2].

MotN no.13  Amelia Opie, Adeline Mowbray, or The Mother and Daughter (1804; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-085-8].

MotN no.14  Lady Morgan [Sydney Owenson], The Wild Irish Girl (1806; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-097-1].

MotN no.15  Mary Brunton, Self-control (1810/11; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-084-X].

MotN no.16  Maria Edgeworth, Patronage (1814; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-106-4].

MotN no.17  Fanny Burney, The Wanderer; or Female Difficulties (1814; repr. 1988) [ISBN 0-86358-263-X]

MotN no.18  Mary Brunton, Discipline (1815; repr. 1986) [ISBN 0-86358-105-6].

MotN no.19  Lady Morgan [Sydney Owenson], The O’Briens and the O’Flahertys: A National Tale (1827; repr. 1988) [ISBN: 0-86358-289-3].

MotN no.20  Maria Edgeworth, Helen (1834; repr. 1987) [ISBN 0-86358-104-8].

* * * * *

[MotN no.3; rear cover here]


[MotN no.4; rear cover here]


[MotN no.5; rear cover here]


[MotN no.6; rear cover here]


[MotN no.7; rear cover here]


[MotN no.8; rear cover here]


[MotN no.9; rear cover here]


[MotN no.10; rear cover here]


[MotN no.11; rear cover here]


[MotN no.12; rear cover here]


[MotN no.13; rear cover here]


[MotN no.14; rear cover here]


[MotN no.15; rear cover here]


[MotN no.16; rear cover here]


[MotN no.17; rear cover here]


[MotN no.18; rear cover here]


[MotN no.19; rear cover here]


[MotN no.20; rear cover here]

YA fiction: Shameful Reading

$
0
0
According to this article, a survey of 1,863 people conducted in Britain this week suggests many e-book readers feel "freed" by the device to read books they would otherwise feel embarrassed about reading.

The MyVoucherCodes.co.uk survey indicates that

• 58% of people use the device to "hide" what they are reading
• 57% were hiding "children’s books"
• 34% were hiding erotic novels
• 26% were hiding sci-fi books

So, all but 1% who hid books, hid YA fiction (I am guessing it is YA fiction, not children's books like The Cat in the Hat since they say "children’s books, such as Harry Potter"), but only about half of those who hid books hid erotica or sci-fi.

From which we can gather that admitting to reading YA fiction is a bigger social faux pas than reading porn or sci-fi: that there is a stronger stigma associated with reading Harry Potter and The Hunger Games. Or perhaps, that readers of YA fiction are, in general, a much more furtive lot. Sneaky. Secretive.

But to continue:

An earlier poll of British readers found that a third of ebook readers are too embarrassed to reveal the truth about what they are reading. One in five said they would be so ashamed of their collection that if they were to lose their ebook reader they would not claim it back. But the results also showed that 71 per cent of books on the shelves of those who responded were autobiographies, political memoirs, and other non-fiction titles—but those categories accounted for just 14 per cent of e-books read by those surveyed.

(I think the word other could safely be dropped from the last sentence.)

So, 20% of e-book users are so ashamed of reading YA fiction/porn/sci-fi that they would pay a couple of hundred dollars to buy a new reader, rather than admit this deeply embarrassing fact. It would be interesting to know whether the same were true of non-e-book readers

Are 20% of all readers so anxious about being outed as YA fiction/porn/sci-fi readers? Or, are e-book readers, as a group, much more concerned what other people think about them, about the impression they are giving sitting, with their e-book reader in their lap, in front of shelves of political memoirs and non-fiction titles. Are they superficial, but vulnerable, poseurs?

For the record: I am presently re-reading The Hunger Games, spent three years studying erotica (and got to call it "research") and spent the best part of a decade reading nothing but sci-fi and horror. But then, I don't have a e-book reader.

Blogging and the Academy

$
0
0
This evening I read Marcy Willard and Dean Leffingwell's "Blogging to Accelerate Peer Review of Doctoral Dissertations" from e-Research Collaboration: Theory, Techniques and Challenges (2010). A search on Google for this chapter-title suggests nobody has either read it or commented on it. I am not really very surprised.

It is hard to imagine who the article is intended for. It is part new-tech. boosterism and part how-to guide. If you are a blogger already (like me) the how-to guide is not a lot of use and the boosterism will just raise a smile. (The same is probably true if you are a Web 2.0 and social-media technophobe, but the smile will mean "not in a thousand years.")

The only person the chapter might be useful to is someone about to start a PhD, but the boosterism seems to be intended to win over skeptical supervisors, rather than curious PhD students. Weird.

And, of course, as a regular blogger, Willard and Leffingwell's reference to articles from 2005 and 2007 seem pretty dated already. It is a bit like watching Mr Burns demanding that Marge "Fill up" his ancient automobile "with petroleum distillate, and re-vulcanize my tires!" And the boosterism just seems naïve.

Still, it is good to see something on blogging. I have plenty of colleagues, who will spend all day on email and web-searches, but would never dream of publishing a blog or setting up a Facebook page.

"How do you find the time?" I was asked recently. (How indeed.) "What is the point?" I guess now I have a chapter to give them which attempts an explanation. Peer-reviewed, in a book, with references (albeit, some of them already dated), so that you know that it is the real deal …

FWIIW this looks like a much more useful article on "Informal Writing, Blogging and the Academy."

When Shall We Three Meet Again?

$
0
0

As you can see in the pictures above and below, this phrase "When Will We Three Meet Again?" or "When Will We 3 Meet Again?" was some kind of meme from about 1890 to 1910.


The reference is to the first lines of Shakespeare's "Macbeth" (i.e., Act 1, Sc. 1, ll.1–5), spoken by the three witches (full scene at the end of this post):

"When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"
"When the hurlyburly's done,
When the battle's lost and won."
"That will be ere the set of sun."


Presumably the answer to this quote-question is "soon" or "when the job is done" or "after the battle" (for a soldier I guess).

But what has me puzzled is why is there always a donkey/mule/ass in the picture? Any suggestions?

(And FWIIW, I am not the only person puzzled!)

UPDATES AT THE END OF THIS POST







* * * * *

{Thunder and lightning. Enter three WITCHES.}

First Witch
  When shall we three meet again?
  In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch
  When the hurlyburly's done,
  When the battle's lost and won.

Third Witch
  That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch
  Where the place?

Second Witch
  Upon the heath.

Third Witch
  There to meet with Macbeth.

First Witch
  I come, Graymalkin!

Second Witch
  Paddock calls.

Third Witch
  Anon.

All
  Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
  Hover through the fog and filthy air.

{Exeunt.}

* * * * *

UPDATES!
A colleague at Monash writes:

"I think it's a comic insult: the general form seems to be that two donkeys invite the reader to join them, thus implying that the reader is also a donkey. As a catchphrase it might have originated in one of the many travesties of Macbeth that were so unaccountably popular in the C19."

Terry L. Meyers writes:

“The third donkey, as your collegue suggests, is surely the reader—and he has found an excellent example of a postcard which has a reflective panel in it, which makes this very clear.


Terry has also found a reference to this mem from 1868 in a journal/annual called The Child’s Friend

If we look into a photograph shop window we are sure to see somewhere a picture of two poor donkeys, and underneath we read the startling question, ‘When shall we three meet again?’ What a take-in, is it not? What does it mean—that we are to be ashamed of being like a donkey? Why do people say ‘What a donkey you are!’ when you have done some very stupid thing? Because donkeys are supposed to be stupid. I will tell you a little about our four-footed friends, and then you can judge for yourself about poor Neddy and his vices.

[…]

Let us remember that to give poor Neddy kind words and good treatment is to help him up in the world, and that the sooner he is helped up the sooner we shall cease to think of him as all that is stubborn and stupid, and the sooner we shall lose the reason for minding the old saying—‘When shall we three meet again?’

[Cousin Louise, “The Donkey,” The Child’s Friend 4 (1868): 41–42.]

Of course, this doesn't really answer the question of why the question asked by Shakespeare's first witches involves donkeys, but if this meme was "old" in 1868 it does suggest the answer lies earlier in the nineteenth century than I thought.

MORE UPDATES! Clare G. and Ken R. have come to my rescue. Both point out that there is a reference to the "We Three" joke in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. So, a lot earlier than the nineteenth century! As Clare explained, there is a reference to it Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase & Fable:

We three. "Did you never see the picture of We Three?" asks Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Shakespeare: Twelfth Night, II, iii) – not meaning himself, Sir Toby Belch, and the clown, but referring to a public-house sign of Two Loggerheads with the inscription, 'We three loggerheads be," the third being the spectator.

I don't know why I didn't go straight to Brewer's. The internet has made me lazy, Brewer's Dictionary was my first stop for for anything like this for years: I have three editions, spanning a century of revisions and alterations, all very well-worn! But they are at work, of course, and it is a long weekend, and, like I said, the internet has made me lazy. But the answer he gives pretty-well nails it.

Now that I know the meme exists in the Shakespeare cannon there should be no difficulty chasing up the folk and literary traditions. Everything in fact. I'll just go straight to the latest Arden edition of Twelfth Night.

* * * * *

But the thing that still puzzles me is the conflation of Macbeth and Twelfth Night. It is a witch who asks "When Will We Three Meet Again?" A witch talking to two other witches. No donkeys in the entire play. No suggestion that the other two are donkeys, donkey-like or donkey-headed (like Bottom in A Mid-Summer Night's Dream). So, what gives?

Perhaps the conflation can be explained only by the appropriateness of the question (unrelated in any way to context of Macbeth) to the "we three" meme. The fact that the quote has been detached from its context in this way is kind-of interesting. Lots of Shakespeare quotes have been detached in this way.

I can't help wondering if it possible to identify the point at which the detaching and conflation occurred, but I don't really have the time to try to track it down, so it looks like this will remain one of life's little mysteries!

Haywood Confusing Garth for Harvey and Juvenal

$
0
0
Over the last couple of weeks I have been editing the text of Marriage A-la-Mode: An Humorous Tale (1746; Foxon M110; ESTC: t61540) for my eighteenth-century unit ATS3487 "Mayhem and Madness in the Age of Reason: English Literature 1698-1798."

The poem—"in Six Cantos in Hudibrastic Verse"—is the only poetic gloss of one of Hogarth's series to have been reprinted in the last century. It appears as an appendix in Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, Hogarth on High Life, trans. Arthur S. Wensinger with W. B. Coley (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1970), 131–47. I scanned it, proofed the OCR text, and am now adding a few extra glosses to those supplied by W. B. Coley.

Reading through the text I was struck by a few quotes that I recognised as Haywood's favourites. The first is this one (Canto 6, ll.21–24):

"On Wings immortal Scandals fly,
Whilst good Deeds are but born and die:”
Says Garth: — By This ’twas plainly shewn,
For soon ’twas spread thro’ all the Town


Coley notes "Not located" before explaining who Sir Samuel Garth was.

* * * * *

A bit of digging online (this is the sort of thing the internet was made for from an editing point of view) turned up something interesting. Garth did not write these words, but Haywood quotes them at least twice, and on one occasion, attributed them to Garth. In Ab.64 Epistle for the Ladies (1748; Epistle 112, "From Cleora to Ardelia, on the Wickedness of Scandal") Haywood writes

I replied, that I had always observed the left Hand Trumpet of Fame was more sonorous than the Right; that the fatal Blast, once sounded, reached through every Quarter, and with repeated Echoes, silences the softest Notes of Gentleness and Humanity.—As one of the best of our English Poets justly expresses it:

On Eagles Wings immortal Scandals fly,
While virtuous Actions are but born, and die.


Haywood had quoted, and named, "one of the best of our English Poets" twenty-four years earlier in Ab.18 Bath-Intrigues (1724), 18:

how fond is every one of censuring and condemning her! Which admirably well verifies what the late inimitable Doctor Garth says in his Dispensary on that Occasion:

On Eagles Wings immortal Scandals fly,
While virtuous Actions are but born and die.


Interestingly, the motto on the title-page to Bath-Intrigues, also attributed to Garth, reads:

There is a Lust in Man, no Awe can tame,
Of loudly publishing his Neighbour’s Shame.


The two quotes go together, and both of them are from Stephen Harvey's translation of Juvenal, specifically "The Ninth Satyr of Juvenal" in The Satires of Decimus Junius Juvenalis. Translated into English Verse … By Mr. Dryden and Several other Eminent Hands (London: J. Tonson, 1693), p.184, ll.193–96. (Online here.)

So, the attribution to Sir Samuel Garth is an error. It is not clear whether Haywood was alerted to the fact that it was an error but the whole quote (ll.193–96) appears as the motto to third volume of the Dublin editions of her Female Spectator. In Ab.60.3 and Ab.60.4, the first and "third" Dublin editions, the text reads:

There is a Lust in Man no Charm can tame,
Of loudly publishing his Neighbour’s Shame:
On Eagles Wings immortal Scandals fly,
While virtuous Actions are but born to die.
Harv. Juv.


* * * * *

So, here's the thing. No one else seems to have made Haywood's 1724 mistake of attributing a chunk of Harvey's translation of Juvenal's Ninth Satire to Garth. So, either the anonymous author of Marriage A-la-Mode: An Humorous Tale made the same mistake (coincidence) or they were indebted to Haywood's Bath-Intrigues for the quote.

Of course, there is a third possibility—common authorship—but that is a long bow, and not even my enthusiasm for The Hunger Games will make me pick it up. It can stay in the cornucopia while I run for the hills.

* * * * *

BTW: in the Pickering & Chatto edition of Ab.64 Epistle for the Ladies, edited by Alexander Pettit and Christine Blouch, the verse is not identified. The relevant footnote reads:

The lines are prefaced to Richardson Pack, "To Mr. Addison, Occasioned by the News of the Victory" (1719), where they are credited to "Dryd. Juv." They do not, however, appear in Dryden's translations of Juvenal or, evidently, elsewhere in Dryden's work.

The Pickering & Chatto edition was published in 2000, back in the before time, the long-long-ago. When the internet was young and you had to read whole books to find a quote, or miss one, as the case may be. Oh how far we have come in only a decade …

Eliza Haywood on YouTube

$
0
0
Discussions of Haywood are turning up in all kinds of places online, but I did not expect to find anything on YouTube. But here are some of the videos I found when I was updating my Haywood links page:

Adaptations etc of Fantomina




Discussion of Love in Excess

Haywood Lost in the War

$
0
0
When I was in Germany in 1995 and 1997, searching for copies of Haywood's works, I encountered a few ghosts. Two which stand out in my mind are translations of Ab.67 The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless: one in Berlin, one in Munich. In both cases one of the two volumes that comprise each set were "keine Benutzung möglich" [lost in the war].

In the case of Ab.67.13 L’Etourdie, ou Histoire de Mis Betsy Tatless (Berlin, 1755) the Bavarian State Library (the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek) in Munich held a set in two volumes in 1934, which was reported by Mary and Lawrence Price, but only the first volume survived WW2.

In the case of Ab.67.17 Geschichte des Fräuleins Elisabeth Thoughtleß (Leipzig, 1754) the Berlin State Library (Deutsche Staatsbibliothek) in Berlin held a set in two volumes in 1931, which was reported in Gesamtkatalog der preussischen Bibliotheken, but only the second volume survived WW2.

(The Prussian State Library i.e., the Preussischen Staatsbibliotheken only existed between 1918 and 1945; the library was broken up with the partitioning on Berlin and the collections were not reunited until 1992, only a few years before my visit. See Wikipedia entry here)

I was struck, at the time of my visits, by the symmetry of these random losses, the first volume of one set, the second volume of another. And I was reminded of these losses this week by the happy discovery that Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin has acquired a second set of Ab.67.17 to replace the set "keine Benutzung möglich." And, ever-zealous to make amends for the past (past destruction wrought by and on them), the Germans have published the whole thing online (here) in colour.


The interface is a little clunky but, as you can see, the images are clear, the printing is gorgeous, and the digital facsimile is complete: including the binding. I have a link to this facsimile on my page of links to Haywood texts and scholarship—it is the first such link to a text not on Google Books. I hope this is a sign of things to come. That individual libraries will move beyond the production of online facsimiles of the same small number of prize texts, to facsimiles of a substantial portion of their historical collections.


(Keeping track of all the texts published online this way might be a challenge, but I'd rather have the challenge of finding all the texts I am interested in online, than be forced to fly to the other side of the world and undertake a nearly-endless trek from library to library. It is not that I didn't love the opportunity as a student to see so much of Europe and America, but it does seem mad to spend five minutes looking at one book after another, at one library after another, in one country after another, for months on end, only to return home and discover that—since I had overlooked a handful of tiny details—that I have to repeat my journey to complete my study!)

[Deutsche Staatsbibliothek copy 2 (19 ZZ 11623)]

Paratextual Satire: An Introduction

$
0
0
It seems that the locution "paratextual satire" is not new; credit for it must go to the late Dr Janis L. Pallister. Pallister used this phrase twenty years ago in an article on François Béroalde de Verville's Le Moyen de parvenir (1616?), glossing it as "satire outside the narrative structures."

Though the phrase is not new it is in "as new condition," having been used only by Pallister and by Pallister only once. And though credit must go to the distinguished professor of romance languages for inventing and first using the term, I am not indebted to her for it. I invented the phrase (I think thought) after doing some research on satirical footnotes in Swift, Pope and Gibbon, to describe the use of satire and irony in all matters paratextual (titles, dedications, subscription lists, footnotes, indexes etc) and epitextual (advertisements, reviews, descriptions of book-buyers and readers etc).

And, while my definition is broad—quite broad, as I will explain—the "satire outside the narrative structures" that Pallister has in mind is limited to the satirical use of chapter titles. Chapter titles that "have no bearing on the content" of a text do two things: they draw the reader's attention to the chapter titles themselves and they offer another narrative voice that either disrupts the coherent narrative of the text or contributes (as in Le Moyen de parvenir) to the multiple narrative voices in the text. In either case, the multiple narrative voices encourage "an almost postmodern distrust of the power of texts coherently to convey knowledge."

Satirical chapter titles are only one way in which an author can provide multiple narrative voices; others are continuous satirical footnotes, glosses and commentary, or stand-apart dedications, prefaces and appendixes. Each of these use (and draw attention to) a recognised element the text as a printed artifact, to disrupt the coherent narrative of the text and to provide another narrative voice. The butt of this sort of paratextual satire was often the emerging norms of scholarly discourse, particularly the norms of (printed) scholarly apparatus.

But is also possible to satirise—draw attention to, ridicule and derive humour from—paratextual elements that do not, strictly speaking, involve providing another narrative voice. The satirical subscription list in the erotic somatopia A Voyage To Lethe (1742) is made up of names such as “Mr. Smallcock,” “Mr Badcock,” “Mr. Nocock,” etc. Likewise, William King’s "A Short Account of Dr. Bentley by way of Index” (1698) does not disrupt the coherent narrative of the text or encourage a postmodern distrust of texts: it contributes to the satire by using paratextual elements and depends for its effect on a reader's awareness of the text as a printed artifact.


It is also possible to satirise—draw attention to, ridicule and derive humour from—epitextual elements. That is, elements outside the bound volume, which includes satirical or ironic advertisements, real or faux reviews or endorsements, correspondence with, or diaries of, the author etc. Personally, I am inclined to include satire based on all aspects on Robert Darnton's communications circuit (which covers the whole life cycle of a book from writer to reader).

Adopting such a broad definition of para- and epitextual satire allows us to include satires that influence a reader's reading of an author or group of authors (authors as Popean "dunces"), a genre (gynecology as erotica), or texts in a particular format (chapbooks as children's literature). It might also include satires on bookseller, publishers, auctioneers, collectors and collections.

Addison's depiction of the library of Leonora in The Spectator (no.37; 12 April 1711), for example, is a misogynistic satire on women readers and book buyers that draws attention to the ignoble fate of individual books ("Locke of Human Understanding: With a Paper of Patches in it") and the ignoble fate in general of books that "have a Tendency to enlighten the Understanding and rectify the Passions" ("Sherlock upon Death" is followed by "The fifteen Comforts of Matrimony"; "The New Atalantis, with a Key to it" sits between "Advice to a Daughter" and "Mr. Steel's Christian Heroe").


The apogee of this type of ignoble-fate, paratextual satire is, perhaps, a pamphlet published in 1753 by J. Lewis: Bum-Fodder for the Ladies. A Poem, (Upon Soft Paper). In this case the paper that the text is printed on is, itself, a satirical reflection on the fate of occasional verse and/or the value of occasional verse.


If, as the author says, the fate of such verse is to be used as toilet-paper, it may as well accept this reality, and offer verse worthy of its fate, printed on soft paper.** The poet has the last laugh: concluding smugly with a reminder to the reader that they have paid a high price for this bumfodder:

  I do not promise much, perhaps you'll say;
  But I'll fulfil, and that's the surest way.
  What can be expected, when I fairly tell ye
  That nought but Bumfodder for Sixpence I sell ye?

**It is not really surprising, but it is noteworthy, that only two copies of this poem survive.

Marginal Marks in Books

$
0
0
On Monday Jeffrey P. Barton posted a question on the EXLIBRIS-List concerning how to describe various manuscript annotations to books. Jim Kuhn directed Jeffrey to The Shakespeare Quartos Archive (here), to a fabulous list of manuscript annotations in the "Encoding Documentation" section (here), based on the OED and/or Peter Beal’s Dictionary of English Manuscript Terminology (2008).

Since I am a little bit obsessed with marginalia at present I thought I’d reproduce the list, make some additions, and—at some point in the future—add images of examples I encounter in works by Haywood.


Manuscript Annotations

arrow: a mark like an arrow, or arrow-head, used as a pointer

asterisk: frequently drawn as a small x-cross with a dot in each angle

asterism: a group of three asterisks placed thus (***) to direct attention to a particular passage

brace: a sign ( } or ] or > ), but may take more improvisational shapes) used in writing or printing, chiefly for the purpose of uniting together two or more lines, words, staves of music, etc.

caret: an inverted-v shaped mark placed in writing below the line, to indicate that something (written above or in the margin) has been omitted in that place

cross: two bars or lines (horizontal and vertical) crossing each other, used as a sign, ornament, etc.; mark or sign of small size used to mark a passage in a book, etc.

[dagger: †; see cross]

dash: a horizontal stroke (usually short and straight)

dot: a minute roundish mark

double oblique: two parallel slashes ( || ) or diagonal strokes ( // )

double triangle: two adjoining triangles sharing a horizontal base line

flower: the representation of a flower of more than three or four petals (which would be trefoils and quatrefoils; see below)

gnomic pointing: double inverted commas used in the meadieval and early-modern period to draw attention to proverbs and sententiae

label: a slip of paper, cardboard, metal, etc. attached or intended to be attached

line: a horizontal line, longer than a dash (and generally serving a different purpose)

manicule: hand or fist with pointing finger

marginal commas: single or double commas, sometimes inverted, used to mark a line or lines of text. Alexander Pope used a system of marginal commas and asterisks in his Chaucer and Shakespeare to indicate “some of the most shining passages.”

mathematical formulas: use only for complex numeric equations or arithmetical problems; transcribe simple numeric or mathematical annotations in full

n.b. or N.B.: abbreviation for nota bene, or "note well"

O: the letter considered with regard to its shape

oblique: a slash or diagonal stroke

quatrefoil: compound leaf or flower containing four, usually rounded, leaflets or petals radiating from a common centre

[quotation marks: see gnomic pointing, marginal commas and running quotes]

running quotes: double inverted commas used to indicate a quotation and, therefore (perhaps), something quote-worthy

scribble: a piece of random or casual doodling or drawing of unclear textual purpose, including pen trials made by writers to test a freshly-trimmed pen or a writing style

stroke: a vertical stroke (usually short and straight: | )

trefoil: a leaf, such as a clover, comprising three rounded sections

triangle: a rectilineal figure having three angles and three sides

X: the letter considered with regard to its shape

[UPDATED 19 July 2012]

Literary Tattoos of Eighteenth-Century Authors

$
0
0
After considerable searching I can only find literary tattoos based on the works of three British authors other than Eliza Haywood (covered here): and they are Alexander Pope, Mary Wollstonecraft and Jane Austen.

Including Austen is a bit of a stretch, though she is usually included in the "long eighteenth century." But, without her, I'd only have Pope, Wollstonecraft and the Marquis de Sade. An odd mix, though not uninteresting. I am sure I will find others and, when I do, I will add them below.

[UPDATE 18 July 2012: added all the missing links and five new finds: more Pope, Wollstonecraft and Austen]

(My post on literary tattoos in general is here.)

Alexander Pope (1688–1744)

An Essay on Criticism (1711), 2.325
  "To err is human; to forgive divine."

[See here for Lee Annee's tattoo]


Eloisa to Abelard (1717), ll. 207–10:
  "How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
  The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
  Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
  Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd."

[See here for Trent's tattoo]

[See here for Crissy's profile page with links to three other images]

[See here]

[See here]

[See here]


An Essay on Man Epistle IV (1733-34): 193.
  "Act well your part, there all the honour lies"

[See here for Chanel-Deann's tattoo]


Marquis de Sade (1740–1814)

Portrait

[See here]

[For a discussion of the portrait which this tattoos is based on, see here.]


[See here]


Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797)

Portrait

[See here]


A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792), Ch.3.
"Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adore its prison."

[See here]


Jane Austen (1775–1817)

Portrait

[See here]

[See here]

[See here for Patricia's tattoo]

Signature

[See here]

Pride and Prejudice (1813), vol.1, ch.11, Elizabeth to Miss Bingley:
"Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me."

[See here for more photos]


Pride and Prejudice (1813), vol.2, ch.9 (ch.34), Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth:
"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

[See here]


Pride and Prejudice (1813), vol.3, ch.18 (ch.60), Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth:
"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

[See here for Mardy's tattoo]

Other

[See here for Patricia's tattoo]

[See here]

[UPDATED 13 December 2012]

Book History at Monash in the 1960s

$
0
0
I have been planning for some time to do a series of posts on the early history of the Centre for the Book, which celebrates its thirtieth birthday this year. To this end I have been picking the brain of Prof. Wallace Kirsop and Dr Brian McMullin and reading over the small number of published accounts of the rise of bibliography, textual editing and book history at Monash, to put together this post on the history of the Centre and the study of book history at Monash. (Not covered in the recently-published history of Monash University.)

Fortuitously, Dr Per Henningsgaard has also been collecting information on the teaching of bibliography in Australian institutions and Wal has allowed me to reproduce here some of what he recently sent to Per.

* * * * *

[Wallace Kirsop writes] "Despite the wishes of some of us at Monash in the early 1960s, Librarianship did not get off the ground till the middle of the 1970s. Consequently, the history of teaching bibliography and book history at Monash—bound up with Brian McMullin in particular—did not begin till later than the events I am going to note and gloss.

I saw the English Department as an outsider only till I began to teach courses for the Department in the 1980s. (I filled in for Harold Love one year in his “Methods of Scholarship” course for Fourth Year Honours, and later offered a Second/Third Year unit on “Publishing in Australia” for almost a decade till my retirement at the end of 1998.)

At the beginning, the English Department avoided falling into the neo-Leavisite morass characteristic of the University of Melbourne. In other words, it stuck to more conventional literary history, which did not exclude physical bibliography, of course. R. C. Bald was appointed to a Chair in 1965, but died before taking it up (and returning to Australia from North America). The major figure for four decades was Harold Love, but one must not forget Philip Ayres and Clive Probyn and, indeed, for relatively brief passage in the 1970s of Arthur Brown.

In the 1960s, the lead was taken by the French Department, led by my then boss Roger Laufer (whose bibliography you can no doubt download). He created the Australian Journal of French Studies, whose editorship I inherited when he returned to France at the end of 1967. An enthusiastic convert to bibliography, he planned a special emphasis on the subject in AJFS. In 1966 there was a special number on the subject in which we joined forces with Oxford colleagues, notably Richard Sayce and Giles Barber.

I was encouraged to tackle book studies in a sort of three-pronged approach: first “The bibliography of French literary history: progress, problems, projects,” AJFS 1 (1964): 325–64, then, in the special number, “Vers une collaboration de la bibliographie matérielle et de la critique textuelle,” AJFS 3 (1966): 227–51 (later expanded as Bibliographie matérielle et critique textuelle: vers une collaboration (Paris: Minard, 1970)), finally “Literary history and book trade history: the lessons of L’Apparition du livre,” AJFS 16 (1979): 488–535.

Alongside this—as the result of an enforced six-month rest with TB—I was exploring the Australian book world from a similar standpoint (reference and physical bibliography, book history). See, for example, a lecture given in Sydney in November 1966 and published as Towards a history of the Australian book trade (Sydney: Wentworth Books, 1969).

Laufer organised an informal seminar on textual editing in 1966, at which Harold Love and, if I remember correctly, Bill Cameron spoke. The whole event lasted through a series of weekly sessions.** French pushed for the creation of a coursework and minor thesis M.A.—a first for Australia, when it was launched in 1966. Naturally, bibliography—reference and physical—was part of the curriculum.

We were severally and individually in close touch with Henri-Jean Martin and Jeanne Veyrin-Forrer at the IVe Section of the École pratique des Hautes Études. In other words we approved of and espoused the marriage of book history and physical bibliography that is characteristic of the French book-history school (despite what is sometimes erroneously claimed in the Anglosphere).

I have lived to see some French literary scholars take up physical bibliography, to the point one could claim the discipline is now more lively on the Continental side of the Channel. Monash played a little part, but Jeanne Veyrin-Forrer and her pupils were more important.

This, then, is part of the background to the creation of Bibliographical Society of Australia and New Zealand in 1969. It will be clear that, in my mind, physical bibliography, textual editing and book history were all part of the enterprise from the beginning.

When the Monash Centre for Bibliographical and Textual Studies was made formal in the 1980s, the sharing of teaching tasks meant that Brian McMullin did physical bibliography, Harold Love did textual editing and I did book history. However, in our own work, the borders were not so fixed, of course. But all that concerns more recent publications and projects."

* * * * *

** Recordings of five of these early seminars survive, as I will explain in a later post. Wal's teaching archives are held by the University.

* * * * *

UPDATE 15 Feb 2013: Wal Kirsop has sent me a copy of a French Department memo he found when moving offices recently. It is dated 13 April 1964 and states, in part:

During Second Term a course of lectures will be given on Fridays at 4.15 pm in Room 210 by Dr W. Kirsop as an introduction to the history of printing, to bibliography and to the editing of texts. A guide to reading and some more detailed indication of the problems to be discussed will be circulated later. This course is compulsory for Research Students and will be followed by a written examination at the beginning of third term."

From this memo it is clear that postgraduate students (HDRs) in the French Department were undertaking bibliography and book history subjects at Monash at least as early as 1964. And so, it seems, 2014 will mark fifty years of bibliography and book history at Monash.

Ann Lang versus Lady Stanley

$
0
0

Kathryn R. King comments, "in Haywood criticism Ann Lang is nearly inescapable." This is because Edmund Gosse wrote an essay, "What Ann Lang Read," which appeared in his Gossip in a Library in 1891 (see here). Gosse, a serious book collector and professional dilettante of literature, "become the happy possessor of a portion of [Ann Lang's] library." He used this "portion" as a springboard for an essay on Haywood and her typical reader. And because Gosse wrote fatuous drivel about Haywood he has become the straw-critic extraordinaire for Haywood scholars.


As TV Tropes explains, a straw critic is:

Any character in fiction who is described as a well-known or influential critic, an editor, or as an English professor, is likely to be a Straw Critic as well as an insufferable snob … Critics and editors often attract the ire of writers, because it's their job to tell people when stories suck. Needless to say, "Your story sucks" is not something most writers want to hear …

A few examples of Gosse's insufferable snobbery: [Haywood's works were] "strictly popular … non-literary … [Haywood] ardently desired to belong to literature … [but] never recognised [by intellectuals] … Plot was not a matter [she] greatly troubled herself [with] … All that distinguished her was her vehement exuberance and the emptiness of the field … [her play] is wretched … no one says that she was handsome … she was undoubtedly a bad actress … [after Pamela appeared Haywood's readers] must have looked back on [her novels] with positive disgust."

[Edmund Gosse, insufferable snob]

As for Ann Lang (and all Haywood readers): [she was] "a milliner’s apprentice or a servant-girl … lower middle class … servants in the kitchen … seamstresses … basket-women … ‘prentices … straggling nymphs … [who usually] read [a book] to tatters, and they threw it away … [or] drop warm lard on the leaves …  tottle up her milk-scores … scribble in the margin … dog’s-ear … or stain it, or tear it … [and who read Haywood because they] must read something"

So, Haywood sucks and her readers were ignorant gits. Right. Time to smash-cut to Lady Stanley.


Like—but unlike—Gosse, I am a dilettante book collector and professional critic (certainly when it comes to Haywood) who has become "the happy possessor of a portion" of the library of a Haywood collector. I probably have access to more information about Lady Stanley than he did about Ann Lang—the lives of aristocrats being, in general, better recorded than those of commoners—but I will resist the ad hominem arguments that he favours.

It is not clear whether, the Lady Stanley who previously owned my copy of the 3rd edition of The Female Spectator was Lady Elizabeth Stanley of Hooton, nee Paray (d.1761) or Lady Mary Stanley of Alderley nee Ward (widowed in 1755), or another, yet-to-be identified, Lady Stanley. And, really, it hardly matters. Although aristocrats occasionally married milliner’s apprentices or servant-girls, it is unlikely that Lady Stanley resembles Gosse's Ann Lang in this or any other respect.


Indeed, the only way in which Lady Stanley resembles Gosse's typical reader of Haywood's "strictly popular publications of a non-literary kind" is a way that Ann Lang does not resemble Gosse's portrait of the typical reader of Haywood's "strictly popular publications…" That is, while Ann Lang's books were in lovely condition, Lady Stanley's copy of The Female Spectator is not. But perhaps, in the same way that Ann Lang's atypically-cleanly books establish her working-class credentials, Lady Stanley's atypically-ratty books would, for Gosse, establish her aristocratic credentials.


Needless to say, there is plenty more evidence to prove that Gosse was writing fatuous drivel on this subject. I have blogged on this subject a few times (here and here for instance) and I have a few articles—perhaps even a book—in the works on Haywood's readers.

Vintage Photos of Women Readers

$
0
0

About five years ago I started collecting vintage photos and artwork of women reading. The collection started by accident when someone sent me a link to an image of Marilyn Monroe on a now-defunct blog called Babes with Books. (Do not Google this site-name; it has been resurrected by a pornmeister.)


I went looking for other vintage photos of women reading, and bought a few of the more interesting ones, including a couple of risque French postcards. (One of which ended up as the poster art for the 2010 BSANZ conference run by the Centre for the Book at Monash: see here.)


Part of what interested me at first about the images I found is what might be called the "erotics of reading"—or, in much cruder terms, the application of Rule 34 to reading (an internet meme stating that "If it exists, there is porn of it. No exceptions.") Because if you look for vintage images of women reading an awful lot of them eroticise the act of reading.

A good eighteenth-century example of an eroticised reader, taken more-or-less at random, is Nicolas-Bernard Lépicié's "Woman Reading" (1769) (see here).


Looking at this image I am left wondering whether the act of reading is only an excuse for the artist to show a woman in dishabille, that the book legitimises the partial nudity because is a plausible situation for a woman to be in a state of undress. Having exhausted the artistic possibilities of "woman bathing (nude)" or "women sleeping (mostly nude)" we have "women reading (partial nude)." That is, rule 34.

Among the postcards, that I bought in 2007 and 2008, this one is, perhaps, the best example of using a book as a plausible-prop-for-naughtiness. Note well, the book is upside-down!


(I recently bought another which depicts a couple reading a copy of the Kama Sutra, and have seen a photo recently—even more self-referential—of a naked model reading a book called Nude Photography! Why didn't I buy it? Some residual good taste perhaps. I will post some of these another time.)

Returning to Monroe. I loved this post on Monroe, particularly this quote:

If some photographers thought it was funny to pose the world’s most famously voluptuous 'dumb blonde” with a book—James Joyce! Heinrich Heine!—it wasn’t a joke to her. In these newly discovered diary entries and poems, Marilyn reveals a young woman for whom writing and poetry were lifelines, the ways and means to discover who she was and to sort through her often tumultuous emotional life. And books were a refuge and a companion for Marilyn during her bouts of insomnia.

As the author goes on to explain, Monroe was a serious reader and had an impressive collection of capital-L literature on her shelves, but it seems at least part of her willingness, enthusiasm even, to be photographed reading was iconoclastic.

Her love of books was genuine, and if it seems that she lost no opportunity to be photographed while reading it was only a desperate need to be taken seriously as a human being and as a thinking, intellectually curious, down-to-earth woman with something extra beyond her obvious physical charms that motivated her; she should be forgiven.

Unfortunately for Monroe, the icon was not so easily broken.

* * * * *

Returning to my first collection of vintage images of women reading: just as my small collection started to take shape I lost interest in it. There didn't seem much point in collecting images to illustrate the obvious relevance of rule 34 to reading and so, in 2010, I passed the dozen or so images on to Monash University. (See here.)

But one year later I started again. I found an article on the way in which books were used as props in the photographs of a single, nineteenth-century Canadian studio. It got me wondering how books were used as props in general, and how reading was used as a signifier in early photographs in general (studio and candid photos). And, indeed, what were the functions of books and reading in artwork in general.

Although I am interested in exploring this wider area, and am prepared to track it from the eighteenth-century up to WW1, I decided to maintain the focus largely on women readers for academic and practical reasons. The practical reasons are the limits of what I can afford to spend and how much space I have available.

The academic ones are varied, but I am most interested in eighteenth-century women writers and their contemporary and later readers. The history of these writers and readers can only be understood in relation to attitudes in general to women as readers and writers since the eighteenth century.

(And, as I discovered when looking at the history of eighteenth-century erotica, much of the most important part of the history of erotica took place in the nineteenth century. This is when material was either collected or destroyed, when facts were recorded or not. The nineteenth century was the valley of the shadow of death through which every work of eighteenth-century erotica had to pass before they could "lie down in green pastures" and dwell in a library forever.)

* * * * *

Enough introduction. I always intended to post images on this blog of the artwork I collected and I am starting now. I will provide whatever information I have been able to gather about each image, principally about photographers and clothes, hairstyles etc to justify the dating. (Dating is often difficult, and I am learning as I go so I am happy to revisit and revise dates and I learn more, and as I find more online reference material and I get more reference books to help with identifying fashions.)

I will, on occasion, make further comment where it is appropriate. The literature on this topic is tiny, but where I can make connections to scholarly material I will. So far the only book I can find on readers is the article I mentioned above and Readers: Vintage People on Photo Postcards from the Tom Phillips Archive (The Bodleian Library, 2010), see here, and my copy has not arrived yet!

Today's image is an albumen print on a carte de visite (abbreviated CdV or CDV, see here) of a young woman, seated, holding a book or photo album.


The photographer is identified as "C. H. Williamson, Brooklyn, established 1851"—Charles H. Williamson operated his gallery in Brooklyn from 1851 to 1859.


The photographer's dates suggest late 1850s for this image. But, if you look here and here you will see that the subject is wearing clothes that appear to date from the 1880s (a tight fitted jacket, with a high white collar, lots of buttons in a row, and tight fitted sleeves). However, her hair is severe and you can see part of her ears (suggesting a date in the mid- to late 1860s), and the logo on the back must pre-date the mid-1860s too.


All very confusing. I am going to opt for early to mid-1860s, assuming the fashions in the early 1880s were a return to similar fashions of the early 1860s and that Williamson's backing-cards continued to be used beyond 1859.


Since buying this CDV I have tended not to buy images that do not depict actual reading (even if staged), particularly when—as here—the book and the subject cannot be identified.

Tom Phillips' Readers (ca. 1900–1940)

$
0
0
My copy of Readers: Vintage People on Photo Postcards from the Tom Phillips Archive (The Bodleian Library, 2010)—see here—has now arrived. It is full of great images and has two very useful but also very brief essays by David Lodge and Tom Phillips.

Phillips sketches out the utility-function of books in the formal portraits taken in photographer's studios (something to occupy the hands and to act as a focus for attention for a nervous subject). But Lodge observes that books "served as indices of culture, education, and in some cases piety" (5), and gives examples which are enigmatic or transparent in their symbolism and symmetry.

A father and son portrait, where both are holding books looking at the camera may symbolise the passing on of wisdom. A man reading and his wife observing him is unclear. Is he reading to his wife, or is she "self-effacingly admiring his absorption of higher things"?

Lodge also notes how, because of "the limited repertoire of body-language and facial expressions associated with reading" (5), the viewer searches "for other kinds of human interest, behavioral and sociological" (6)—and historical. Whether posted/contrived or candid/näive all the photos provide "invaluable clues to the way people lived in the past" (6).

Both writers stress the changing role of photographs, and the progression from studio settings (plain or exotic), to domestic interiors, to outdoor settings and holiday snaps. The two hundred photos in this books cycle through different types of readers in each of these stages.

So, we get studio photos of children, children with parents/grandparents with children, parents, grandparents; then domestic interiors of children, children with parents/grandparents etc; then outdoor settings and holiday snaps of children, children with parents/grandparents etc.

There are probably only a dozen images here that I would add to my own collection, and there are many representation of reading not represented in this book at all that I would like to have seen represented. Where, for instance, are the risqué postcards of naughty readers that I included in my last post? Where are postcards of people reading letters?

The Tom Phillips Archive is vast (50,000 cards), the images "arranged by subject" (8), and the books based on the archive have also been arranged by subject: Bicycles, Fantasy Travel, Menswear, Weddings, Women & Hats—and Readers. Note, no risqué subjects.

It is possible—likely even—that Phillips eschewed risqué French postcards because they were French and Phillips clearly had a nationalistic drive. He wanted to document "British people in the first half of the 20th century" (8). (My own collection is international.)

If there were any risqué British postcards these might have been excluded because they did not document real British people. If so, this would be a curious and inconsistent omission. The non-risqué portraits are no more real than the risqué ones, and the pretense of mimesis in the photos Phillips includes are even more false than the clearly-posed risqué "portraits" I posted.

Because I have conducted so many eBay searches for "women reading" I am acutely aware of how many images thus listed are of women reading letters (when you are looking for images of people reading books, you only get magazines and letters!). These vary from the risqué (woman in dishabille reading a love letter) to the poignant (mother/sister/lover reading a letter from son/brother/lover at "the front"). There are none such—risqué, poignant or otherwise—in this collection.

Both omissions stand out to me because the images concerned focus attention on the encoding of privacy with reading (and, often, privacy with eroticism).

Lodge reminds us that reading is "mental and invisible" (5), visually inscrutable. Because the real world is displaced by reading, a reader's focus is within, in a private and invisible world (in-scrutable, meaning "unable to be seen").

Between this private/invisible inner-world and the public outer world a reader is prepared to share with others—in photographic form—is the private world that a reader will not normally share with others.

My own experience suggests that a lot of reading occurs in—and a lot of candid photos occupy—this private space. If you are reading in bed, few people have access to this private space to photograph you in the first place.

And if you are photographed reading in repose, you are unlikely to be happy to keep the resulting photo, or happy enough to have this photograph printed in, and sent through, the public spaces of photographer's studio and post, to share it with someone else.

Lodge mentions an image "which seems un-posed" depicting a couple reading. The husband wears a suit "though this is his leisure time"—Lodge implies this was normal uptight middle-class behavior at the time.

Perhaps it was, but if the husband had been wearing silk pajamas, would the photo have been taken? And if taken, not destroyed? And, if not destroyed, shared? And if shared, printed as a postcard and sent through the post?

It seems likely that very little of the genuinely private world of readers is visible in Phillips' photos because these postcards were sent through the post. One John Cartell wrote: "I refrain from commenting on my expression in them [photos previously sent] since this p.c. is liable to be read by chaste postmen etc" (112).

So the decision to limit photographic images to those turned into postcards and sent to others likely excludes many of the most interesting photographs of reading—not just the risqué ones likely to offend chaste postmen, but the ones likely to embarrass their subjects by breaking down the division between the public/private world of Jane or John Doe, reader.

* * * * *

Phillips mentions an exhibition of photographs he had recently encountered by André Kertész at the Photographer's Gallery in London. A bit of searching revealed that this 2010 exhibition is actually based on a collection of photographs first published forty years ago under the title On Reading (New York: Grossman, 1972). I have ordered a copy (a first) and will say something about it here when it arrives.

James Hammond's Circulating Library

$
0
0
New York Society Library (NYSL; NNYSL on ESTC) recently announced on the SHARP-list that it has completed an online catalogue of its Hammond Collection, which is comprised of 1,152 novels, plays, poetry, and other works from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (i.e., mostly 1770–1820).

James Hammond's Circulating Library (information here), which operated out of Hammond's store in Newport, Rhode Island, reflected the popular reading interests of the time: including Gothic novels, romances, epistolary fiction, musical comedies, and other genres. A number of the books are quite scarce; in a few cases, being the only known extant copy.

I read through the entire catalogue in the hope of finding something of interest and wasn’t disappointed: there are only two Haywood items, the first of which I already knew about (Ab.64.4Epistles for Ladies (London: H. Gardner, 1776) [No.542; here]; Ab.70.5aThe Wife: interspersed with a variety of anecdotes and observations … (Boston: A. Newell, 1806) [No. 655; here]).

But there are also copies of Jacques Cazotte, The Devil in Love: Translated from the French (New York: C. S. Van Winkle, 1810) [No. 993; here], Memoirs and Adventures of a Flea (London: T. Axtell, 1785) [No. 1317; here] and Denis Diderot, The Nun (Dublin: Brett Smith, 1797) [No. 1372; here].

The 1810 New York edition of The Devil in Love had escaped my notice when I was compiling a list of early editions of this novel. Looking further into this omission, I realise I have missed all the nineteenth-century American editions of Cazotte, so I will have to update my post on that subject (here).

What I have not yet done, but will, is read through the Catalogue of James Hammond's Circulating Library, 142 Thames Street, Newport, R.I. (Newport, RI: Mason & Pratt's Power Press, 1853) (online here)—which claims to list eight thousand volumes. The Charles Sumner copy of this catalogue, held at Harvard—contains both of the items now at NYSL—Epistles for the Ladies, by the author of the Female Spectator [No.542, on p.21] and Wife; advice to the married of all conditions [No. 655, on p.70]—but it is possible that there are more Haywood items that did not make it to NYSL.

It is good to see that the NYSL is continuing to make information about its important collection available online. For my post on the NNYSL borrowing register (July 1789 to April 1792), see here.

Ambrotype of a Woman Reading (late 1850s)

$
0
0
This photo of a woman reading a book dates from the late 1850s. It can be dated by both the process used to capture the image and the image itself.


The photo is a one-sixth-plate ambrotype and pinchbeck metal mount in an original embossed leather case. According to Wikipedia: “Ambrotypes first came into use in the early 1850s … By the late 1850s, the ambrotype was overtaking the daguerreotype in popularity; by the mid-1860s, the ambrotype itself was supplanted by the tintype and other processes.” This image has been hand-tinted—which was common—to add gold-painted jewelery.


The hairstyle of the woman reading her book is distinctive. Her hair is parted in the centre, is severely-flat on top and sides, covering her ears, with straight sausage (or bottle) curls at her shoulders. This style was popular with younger women in just prior to 1860. (See here and here.) The pose is (typically) formal for a studio photo. The background curtain has been washed out to a blank, the studio furniture is very basic. Most likely, the book is also a prop.


This is the oldest photo I have. I have seen earlier photos of people reading for sale, daguerreotypes from the early 1850s, but these are enormously expensive and so this is likely to stay my oldest photo!

The City Widow Revisited

$
0
0

I did a long post on Haywood’s The City Widow over a year ago (see here), a post which—looking at it again—got quite side-tracked by my discussion of the prospect of editing the complete works of Haywood. Tempting as it is to revisit the subject of editing, I will try to stick closer to my subject. Today, I’d like to bring together some of the evidence for the post-publication history of Ab.44 The City Widow; Or, Love in a Butt (1729).

Trawling through ECCO and Google Book, I have found The City Widow in ten circulating library, bookseller’s and auctioneer’s sale catalogues up to 1900, those from 1752, 1758, 1767, 1784, 1787, 1793, 1821, 1862, 1887 and 1899. (Sadly, it is not possible to trace twentieth-century references so easily.)

What is surprising is how often The City Widow is bound with salacious and erotic works: works on prostitution (The History of Betty Ireland), rape (The Case of Miss C. Cadière against the Jesuit John Baptist Gerard), masturbation (Onania), scatology (Sixpenny Miscellany; Or, A Dissertation Upon Pissing), erotica (A New Description of Merryland), and titillating fiction (Clarinda; Her Escape and Escapades with a Jesuit). By the late nineteenth century it was twice listed under "Facetiae"—which was a euphemism for erotica (see nos. 8 and 10).

From a bibliographical perspective, two items stand out: nos. 1 and 8. The first of these is interesting because it is an early collection of works by Haywood, comprising Ab.44–45, 47–48. It is tempting to see this as a collection put together by the publisher—John Brindley. Whether such a collection was ever advertised as a collection is something I will have to look into.

The second is interesting because it is the only listing that identifies Haywood as the author (even though the dedication is signed “Eliz. Haywood”). The fact that most of these listings do not mention Haywood as the author is indicative of just how rarely authors are mentioned in eighteenth and nineteenth-century catalogues and, we have to assume, just how uninterested the public was in the authorship of The City WidowThe History of Betty Ireland and Clarinda—Her Escape and Escapades with a Jesuit!

* * * * *

[1] Charles Marsh, A Catalogue of a Large and Useful Collection of Books (1752?), 84 (no. 2454)—bound with Haywood’s Ab.45 Persecuted Virtue, Ab.47 Frederick, Duke of Brunswick-Lunenburgh, Ab.48 Love-Letters on all Occasions—priced at 2s 6d.

 [2] Thomas Lownds, A New Catalogue of Lownds's Circulating Library (1758?), 49 (no. 1794)—bound with The History of Betty IrelandFair Concubine and two others—priced at 5s.

 [3] William Bathoe, A New Catalogue of the Curious and Valuable Collection of Books (1767?), 86 (no. 2393)—bound with Amorous Bugbears; Or, The Humours of a Masquerade and Clarinda; Her Escape and Escapades with a Jesuit—priced at 4s.

[4] Ogilvy, David, A Catalogue of Several Libraries of Books (1784?), 144 (no.6062)—priced at 6d. 

[5] John Boosey, A New Catalogue of the Circulating Library at No. 39, King Street, Cheapside (1787), 104 (no.3137)—bound with The Ungrateful Wife and the Life of Daniel Defoe—priced at 3s. 

[6] Thomas King, Appendix to T. King's catalogue for 1792 (1793), 145 (no.5117)—priced at 6d.

[7] Thomas Rodd, Catalogue of twelve thousand tracts, pamphlets and unbound books, in all branches of literature, Part 5 (1821), 321 (no.14,927)—priced at 2s.

[8] Messrs. Leigh Sotheby & John Wilkinson, Catalogue of … the Extensive Library of a Gentleman, Deceased (14 November 1862), 77 (no.924)—bound with five other works, including Onania (1722), Modest Defence of Public Stews Answered (1725), The Case of Miss C. Cadière against the Jesuit John Baptist Gerard (1732) etc—under the heading “Facetiae.”

[9] Messrs. Sotheby, Wilkinson, and Hodge, Catalogue of the Valuable and Very Extensive Library of the late James T. Gibson Craig, Esq. (6 July 1887), 140 (no.2388)—bound with more than ten other works, including A New Description of Merryland (1741), Sixpenny Miscellany; Or, A Dissertation Upon Pissing (1726)—with the bookplate of the Hon. C. Hope Weir.

[10] Pickering and Chatto, An Illustrated Catalogue of Old and Rare Books (1899), 112 (no.1275)—under the heading “Facetiae”—priced at 10s (sewn).

1934 Magazine Stand and Bookshop

$
0
0
This anonymous photo of an unidentified newspaper stand and bookshop(?) is not really typical of the photos that turn up on eBay, but it is the sort of photo that does turn up regularly—regularly enough to keep me going back to eBay to see what is on offer.


Here we have, it seems, the proprietor and his assistants standing in front of a counter and display-racks of magazines, outside a bookshop or general store which has kites, film and sunglasses on show in the window.


On display are a mix of popular magazines, from the innocuous (Argosy) to the sort that occasionally alarmed censors in Australia (Love Story and Complete Underworld Novelettes). As well as detective and sporting magazines there are endless film and radio titles (Silver Screen, Picture, Radioland and Radio Guide).


This last magazine, at the bottom, right side of the image, appears to be the 1 September 1934 issue.


Since Radio Guide was a weekly—and nothing dates more quickly than a radio or tv programme, this magazine allows me to date the image to the first week of September 1934. (I found the cover here.)


Notice that on display in the window behind the proprietor is a sign “Circulating Library.”


Also captured in the image, in the reflection of the shop-window at the top-left of the image, is a private and engaging moment of a family passing by. Some fiddling in Photoshop brings out a few details.


Having stopped, perhaps, while the proprietor and his assistants were posing for the photo, we see a father has lifted his infant son up onto his shoulders to watch the event, while his wife looks on.

* * * * *

I am not really sure what an image like this adds to our knowledge of book history: I cannot locate the establishment, though I can date it, the range of magazines is not really remarkable, we learn nothing of the Circulating Library, and proprietors, assistants, and passers-by are much the same now as then.

Perhaps images like these, like evidence of reading, book ownership etc in general, are really only useful when brought together in large enough numbers … which is all the justification I need to keep looking on eBay.
Viewing all 183 articles
Browse latest View live




Latest Images