Biographia Dramatica and the Unfinished Thesis

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Antiques, Architecture, Biographia Dramatica, Books, Cleveland, Dorset, England, John Willett, Merley House, Ralph Willett, Theatre, Travel

Hello, readers! Perhaps I should take a moment to say that I haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth. You see, my abrupt and painfully long (well, at least for me) absence was because I’ve been working on my master’s thesis. I thought that a hiatus from blogging would help me to focus more on my thesis work…but I was wrong. I’m a procrastinator no matter what. So, I figure I’ll stop fooling myself and start writing again about what I love, when time permits. I should mention that just because I took a break from blogging, I certainly haven’t stopped collecting!

Whew. Back in the saddle again. Where to start…

Well, today I smashed my foot. I can’t even explain how, as it was a strange accident. I’m clumsy. These things happen often. And what better way to heal than with retail therapy? (Yeah, I know. Typical girl.) Even so, I realized it would have been silly to buy a pair of shoes with a foot injury. That’s why I decided to pick up two leather-bound volumes from 1782.

These volumes of Biographia Dramatica: or, A Companion to the Playhouse were written by David Erskine Baker, Esq. and printed in London for Messrs. Rivingtons as a continuation of the 1764-82 set. The books claim to contain “Historical and Critical Memoirs, and Original Anecdotes, of British and Irish Dramatic Writers, from the Commencement of our Theatrical Exhibitions; amongst whom are some of the most celebrated Actors,” also “An Alphabetical Account of their Works, the Dates when printed, and occasional Observations on their Merits.” As if that wasn’t enough, these books also present “An Introductory View of the Rise and Progress of the British Stage.”

If you know me, you know that I love to buy books for more than their readable content. Let’s talk about the fabulous spines on these volumes! I absolutely love the classical references: the draped urns festooned with foliate garlands (olive, perhaps?) and the triglyphs and metopes. So good.

I was also intrigued by the signature inside the front cover of each volume. “J.W. Willett, Merly House.” A perfect lead for further investigation.

Merley House. © Copyright Chris Downer and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Merly House, or as it is spelled today, Merley House, is located in Merley, Wimbourne, Dorset, England. The property originally belonged to the Lords of Canford. Ralph Willett, a West India proprietor, bought the estate in 1751 and built the Georgian mansion that currently sits on the property. Willett had a massive collection of books and art. By 1772, his collection had outgrown the house and prompted the construction of two additions. To read more about the history of Merley House, check out the estate’s website.

So who was J.W. Willett?

John Willett Willett (1745-1815) was not the son of Ralph Willett. Rather, Ralph was the first cousin of John’s mother. According to The History of Parliament, Ralph adopted John as an infant. While John had the potential to become a lawyer, he opted instead to pursue antiquarianism. It seems that John gained control of Merley House in 1795. He then auctioned Ralph’s books and paintings and tore down the home’s additions in the early 1800s. Based on this story, one can assume that my books were some of those auctioned.

Then, how did my books end up in the United States?

Beneath the Willett signature inside the front cover is an early twentieth-century label that reads “The Arthur H. Clark Company. Publishers and Booksellers, Importers of Old & Rare Books. Caxton Building, Cleveland, Ohio.”

The Arthur H. Clark Company was founded by Arthur H. Clark, an Englishman who came to the United States to apprentice publishers. After a stint in Chicago, Clark moved to Cleveland in 1892 and managed rare books for the Burrows Brothers. He then established his own company in 1902, which relocated to Glendale, California in 1930 and still exists today.

The Caxton Building, Cleveland. Ohio Architect and Builder, April, 1904.

Thanks for reading, everyone. It feels good to be back!

Ryder’s Ramblings in Elyria

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A.H. Greenly, Berea, Books, Burrows Brothers Books, Cleveland, Collamer, Elyria, Horticulture, J.F. Ryder, J.W. Dunham, Nostalgia, Photography, Voigtlander and I

As promised, here is Ryder’s autobiography, Voigtländer and I: In Pursuit of Shadow Catching. It is well-known in the field of photography as one of few autobiographies written by an early photographer. I discovered this book two years ago while working on an assignment for a Histories of Photography course. One of the sources I was using for a paper referenced Ryder’s book. After a simple inter-library loan request, voila! A first edition 1902 copy was mine to borrow. I read it each evening for fun and was shocked to find that Ryder had been to so many places that I had. It was as though I was following in his footsteps. I loved Ryder’s purposeful, yet nostalgic writing style. It was too much to hold a first edition in my hands that wasn’t mine. I had to get my own.

Frantic online searches for the book made me realize I wasn’t going to cheaply find a first edition. I was beside myself. A modern-day reprint just wouldn’t do, not after reading the real thing! I pouted. And wouldn’t you know it, the next day another first edition appeared online…and on sale. I snapped it up.

I’m especially fond of my book for its longstanding Cleveland connection. A few pieces of paper have been left inside the front cover, leaving dark silhouettes on the surrounding pages. The first is a May 8, 1939 letter of inquiry from A.H. Greenly, the Chairman of the Official Classification Committee, to the Burrows Bros. Book Shop in Cleveland. Apparently Greenly wanted a copy of Ryder’s book and the Burrows boys hadn’t followed through in a timely manner. Why A.H. Greenly, a bomb-inspecting man, wanted Voigtländer and I is beyond me. Light reading, I suppose? Anyway, this letter from Greenly seemed to light a fire beneath the Burrows brothers, as the other piece of paper in the book has the scribbled name and address of Ryder’s relative who still lived in Cleveland. Did my book come from this relative upon Greenly’s request?

I guess I was like Greenly in my own right, scrambling to find a copy of Ryder’s book. What can I say? It’s that good.

Today, I’d like to pull some information from Ryder’s autobiography and put my own spin on his experiences in Elyria, Ohio. Ryder settled in the town (now a city) after working his way west from Ithaca as an itinerant. He set up a daguerreotype studio in Elyria in 1849 and maintained business ties there until 1858. In 1852, the building that housed his studio caught fire and destroyed his belongings (including his beloved Voigtländer camera). Despite this traumatic and financially draining experience, Ryder had a soft spot for Elyria. In Voigtländer and I he states:

 My fondness for the beautiful in nature found here much to feed upon. At evening before twilight I found my reserved front seat, which no one else disputed, and enjoyed it to my heart’s content.

On moonlight nights, after “Wils” Ryan, the miller, had shut up shop and gone home, I would lounge on the grass beside the old mill with its great, drippy water-wheel, and enjoy the pleasing rhythm of the falling water, splashing and dripping continuously and soothingly, inducing me to indulgence in waking dreams which led me pleasantly to Ithaca and the old Cascadilla, whose dashing water I so dearly loved.

East Falls of the Black River, Elyria, Ohio. The stair-step stones on the right are the ruins of the old Red Mill. Based on the description above, this was Ryder's favorite vantage point.

And now for the surprise: a daguerreotype from my collection. Written inside the case is “J.W. Dunham. Elyria. Lorain Co., Ohio. $1.00.” With the exception of this portrait, I have never seen another daguerreotype from Elyria. Who was J.W. Dunham? Was this likeness taken by J.F. Ryder and his Voigtländer?

Let’s do a little detective work.    

J.W. Dunham.

We know this man was J.W. Dunham. But who was he, really? There were two in Ohio (as well as a few from other states).

The first is Dr. J. Watson Dunham (1824-1890) from Collamer, near East Cleveland. He was a horticulturist who specialized in grape-growing. He owned several vineyards. Dunham served as president of the Lake Shore Grape Grower’s Association and treasurer of the Ohio State Horticultural Society.

The second J.W. Dunham (1834-1906) was from Hinckley and Berea, Ohio. He was an inventor of farm implements and started the J.W. Dunham & Son Company.

Image courtesy of Miami University Digital Collections. Oxford, Ohio.

Because the two men studied similar topics and lived within 25 miles of each other during the same time period, it is almost impossible to distinguish one from the other; but let’s think a little harder. In the photograph, Dunham rests his hand on a book. This was a classic symbol for scholarship. His top hat on the table and silver-handled walking stick suggest that he was quite the affluent man. If I had to judge his age, I’d guess that he was about thirty at the time this photograph was taken. 

As for the daguerreotype itself, it was set beneath a thick, smooth, nonpareil mat. This smooth style of mat dates to the early 1850s (a stippled nonpareil mat dates earlier). The matted image is encased in a preserver, which dates after 1847. This means that the daguerreotype must be from the early 1850s. Taking this into account, J.W. Dunham of Berea would have been about twenty years old at best. Dr. J.Watson Dunham of Collamer, however, would have been about thirty. Perfect!

Now, did Ryder take the photo? Time to think broadly. In the early 1850s, there were only four daguerreotypists in Elyria: Fred Potter, Charles Park, Edward Wikes, and Ryder himself. Potter was only active in Elyria during the year 1853. As for Park and Wikes, Ryder trained them. I’d say it is likely Ryder had a hand in creating the daguerreotype.

Well readers, that’s the end of today’s adventure. Coming up next: cartes-de-visite!

Do It With Thy Might: The Earl of Buxton, Trollope, and the Blackamoor.

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Africa, Anthony Trollope, Blackamoor, Bookplate, Books, Buxton, Coat of Arms, England, Framley Parsonage, History, London, Moors, Parliament, Peerage, St. Maurice, Titanic

What do I have in common with the Titanic and Anthony Trollope’s Framley Parsonage? The answer is actually who, rather than what…and it’s the Earl of Buxton. 

Image published in Vanity Fair, January 2, 1907. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

My 1878 edition of Anthony Trollope’s Framley Parsonage once belonged to Sydney Charles Buxton, the 1st (and last) Earl of Buxton. He was born in 1853 and died in 1934. Sydney Charles was the son of Parliament member Charles Buxton and the grandson of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, 1st Baronet. 

Sydney Charles Buxton had a prolific political career. A liberal, he got his start by publishing A Handbook to Political Questions of the Day in 1880. He served in Parliament in 1883 and from 1886 to 1914 as part of the Poplar constituency. Buxton then went on to become Under-Secretary for the Colonies between 1892 and 1895. According to the Peerage, he published another book, Fishing and Shooting in 1902.

Buxton served as Postmaster General from 1905 to 1910 under King Edward VII. He was a Privy Counsellor and moved on to become President of the Board of Trade in 1910. This is where the Titanic comes into play. It was Buxton’s job to supervise trade and commerce laws. After the Titanic sank, he requested the formation of an inquiry commission from the Lord Chancellor.  

Buxton was appointed Governer-General of South Africa in 1914, as well as Viscount Buxton of Newtimber. He had a close relationship with General Louis Botha and was instrumental in the attacks on South West Africa during the period of World War I. Positive experiences in Africa prompted Buxton to serve as president of the Africa Society from 1920 to 1933.

Sydney Charles was created Earl Buxton in 1920. In the photos, you can see his bookplate on the inside cover of my book. It depicts the family crest of Sydney’s grandfather, Sir Thomas. According to Family Crest Finder, this crest corresponds to the Earl’s address of 7 Grosvenor Crescent, S.W.

Close inspection of the bookplate reveals a black African face on a small shield. This is called a Moor’s head or Blackamoor. The common explanation of such images is that they were used in European heraldry to symbolize dominance or victory over the Moors. Modern scholars, however, believe that the Blackamoor had a positive connotation, symbolizing the soldier St. Maurice. This latter explanation makes sense, considering Buxton’s supposed positive ties to South Africa. To learn more about Blackamoors, check out Sigillum Secretum. Oddly enough, this very debate popped up at the Winterthur symposium I had just attended this past weekend.

I love how the belt and suspender encircle the buck and Blackamoor. Symbolism, perhaps? All-encompassing and support come to my mind. And you’ve got to love the motto, “Do It With Thy Might.”  

At this point, you might be wondering if there was a connection between Sydney Charles Buxton and Anthony Trollope. In fact, there was. Trollope was a close friend of the Earl’s father, Charles Buxton. The Letters of Anthony Trollope and The Autobiography of Anthony Trollope give several indications of this.

So there you have it, full circle. It’s amazing; the connections one can discover from a bookplate. 

The Sinking of the Titanic

Tags

Books, Centennial, History, Politics, Shipwrecks, Titanic

I have decided to jump on the Titanic bandwagon; but for good reason. You see, I enjoy collecting antique books that were printed in response to national disasters. A bit macabre, I know…but such a wonderful glimpse into attitudes (and sensationalism) of specific time periods. 

I own one such book that was printed immediately following the sinking of the Titanic. There were many tell-all versions published after the sinking. Mine claims to be the “only authoritative book.” In honor of the Titanic centennial, I have to share it with you.  

My book is called The Sinking of the Titanic and Great Sea Disasters: Thrilling Stories of Survivors with Photographs & Sketches. It was published in 1912 by L.T. Myers. Unfortunately, a previous owner covered the book with a clear adhesive that I cannot remove. As a result, acid is eating away at the fabric and illustration on the book cover. It makes me sad to watch the book slowly decompose over time. It’s interesting, though, that the book decay parallels the actual disintegration of the ship wrecked at the bottom of the ocean. 

The book begins with a political cartoon – a pithy jab at the numerous luxuries and lack of lifeboats on board the ship. One wonders what an uproar this would have caused while the pain of the incident was still fresh. The cartoon also singles out a few rich men who died on the maiden voyage. 

Content-wise, the rest of the book is divided into ship amenities, notable passengers, a summary of the disaster, firsthand accounts, and several criticisms (especially toward Mr. Ismay and men who cut into the “women and children first” lifeboat lines).  

One of my favorite things about old books is the evidence of past owners. This book is no exception (well, besides that awful adhesive cover). On page 75, someone had left a money order application from February of 1915, right under the subsection of “Men Shot Down.”

As always, thanks for reading!

Godey’s Lady’s Book

Tags

Books, Civil War, Fashion, Godey's Lady's Book, Rhode Island, Rhode Island School of Design

Today I’d like to show you some of the beautiful illustrations from my 1841 Godey’s Lady’s Book. Louis A. Godey first published the magazine in 1830. According to a quote on Hope Greenberg’s website, the magazine was initially received with some trepidation from certain facets of the public. It was published until 1898; proof of its success.

My 1841 volume belonged to Mrs. George A. Pierce of Edgewood, Rhode Island. Sadly, I can’t pinpoint which Mrs. Pierce this was. It seems that George A. Pierce (1828-1910) had three wives throughout his lifetime and all of the marriages occurred well after 1841. Mr. Pierce was the proprietor of Edgewood Greenhouses. He also participated widely in the Civil War. He was a corporal in the Fourteenth Regiment of Rhode Island, Second Rhode Island Infantry. He then returned as a veteran volunteer, leaving that position to become First Lieutenant in the Fourteenth Rhode Island Heavy Artillery. He served as acting quartermaster in the Third Battalion before mustering out in 1865. Upon his death, Pierce bequeathed his estate to his daughter Esther. She went on to marry Stephen O. Metcalf, who gave the Pierce house to the Rhode Island School of Design.

Below are some engravings and fashion plates from my book. Enjoy!