Kenneth Spencer Research Library

As an elder millennial who loved history as a child and grew up with American Girl, I’ve been excited about the company’s 40th anniversary this year. As a result, I will be sharing a series of posts highlighting Spencer collection materials that connect to AG’s six original historical characters, in chronological order of when they “lived”: Felicity Merriman, Josefina Montoya, Kirsten Larson, Addy Walker, Samantha Parkington, and Molly McIntyre. Each post will focus on a different character and explore a selection of items that relate to the time and place in which she “lived” and topics or themes explored in her stories.

When readers meet Felicity Merriman, she is a “spunky, sprightly” nine-year-old girl living in Williamsburg, Virginia, in 1774. Her stories are set against the backdrop of rising tensions between Patriots and Loyalists just before the American Revolution, and the theme of independence runs throughout them. Felicity herself balks at learning expected housewifery skills, and she attempts to free a beloved horse named Penny from an abusive owner. The questions of freedom, liberty, and equality asked in the stories are not extended to the enslaved characters (and one free person of color) who are mentioned or implied. Other topics in Felicity’s books include education for girls, illnesses and injuries, British taxation especially on tea, her father’s store, and maintaining friendships in the face of disagreements.

Selected pages in The Ladies’ Diary, or, Woman’s Almanack for the Year of Our Lord 1774. Published in London between 1704 and 1841, The Ladies’ Diary, or, Woman’s Almanack famously featured puzzles and mathematical questions in addition to calendars and important dates. Spencer’s 1774 copy appears to feature a red two-pence duty tax stamp. It is also bound with nine other popular Company of Stationers almanacs from the same year; similar volumes from several years between 1744 and 1826 can also be found at Spencer under the call number “Bond B17.” Call Number: Bond B17 1774. Click images to enlarge.

The title page and publication note of An Oration Delivered March 5, 1774: At the Request of the Inhabitants of the Town of Boston; To Commemorate the Bloody Tragedy of the Fifth of March 1770 by John Hancock, Boston: 1774. “Some boast of being friends to government,” Hancock asserted in this speech. “I am a friend to righteous government, to a government founded upon the principles of reason and justice; but I glory in publicly avowing my eternal enmity to tyranny.” This speech can be read online through the Massachusetts Historical Society; a transcription is available through the UMKC School of Law “Famous Trials” website. Call Number: D845. Click images to enlarge.

The frontispiece (left) and title page (middle) of The Experienced English Housekeeper, for the Use and Ease of Ladies, Housekeepers, Cooks, &c. by Elizabeth Raffald, London: 1778. On the right is a fold-out copper plate diagram of a first-course dinner arrangement consisting of 25 dishes, part of what Raffald calls a “grand table”: “January being a month when entertainments are most used, and most wanted, from that motive I have drawn my dinner at that season of the year.” A second copper plate diagram shows another 25 dishes, and Raffald asserts that the third (dessert) course “must” therefore “be of the same number.” Call Number: C3670. Click images to enlarge.

The title page and a selection of treatments in Every Man His Own Physician by John Theobald, London: 1766 (a “new edition, improved). Historically known as chlorosis, “green sickness” was primarily diagnosed in young, unmarried teenage girls. “Gripes” is an older term for influenza. Note that the cure for headaches includes “leeches behind the ears.” Call Number: B9522. Click images to enlarge.

Selected Additional Collection Items

Colonial British America, Virginia, and Williamsburg

• Map, North America, as Divided Amongst the European Powers, London: 1774. Call Number: Orbis Maps 1:85.
• The Office and Authority of a Justice of Peace Explained and Digested, Under Proper Titles by Richard Starke, Williamsburg: 1774. Includes a section on penalties for (ahem, Felicity) stealing horses. George Washington had a copy of this work in his library. Call Number: C14997.
• Map, A New and Correct Map of North America, With the West India Islands; Divided According to the Last Treaty of Peace, Concluded at Paris. 10th. Feby. 1763, London: 1777. Call Number: N6 Orbis 1:81.
• Map, Bowles’s New Map of North America and the West Indies, London: 1781. Call Number: N7 Orbis 1:82.
• Notes on the State of Virginia by Thomas Jefferson, London: 1787. Call Number: C1485.
• Colonial Williamsburg, the First Twenty-Five Years; A Report, 1952. Call Number: RH D1411.

Rising Tensions Before the American Revolution

• First [-Fifth] Report from the Committee Appointed to Enquire [sic] into the Nature, State, and Condition, of the East India Company, and of the British Affairs in the East Indies, London: 1773? These reports document the UK Parliament’s investigation into the East India Company in 1772 and 1773. One result of this inquiry was the Tea Act of 1773, which features prominently in Felicity’s stories. Call Number: G374 v.3 items 6-10.
• Considerations on the Measures Carrying on With Respect to the British Colonies in North America, anonymously written by Matthew Robinson, 2nd Baron Rokeby, London: 1774. Call Number: 18th century Prose 716.
• Extracts from the Votes and Proceedings of the American Continental Congress, Held at Philadelphia, on the Fifth of September, 1774, Philadelphia: 1774. Call Number: 18th century Prose 2275.
• American Independence the Interest and Glory of Great Britain by John Cartwright, London: 1774. Call Number: C1497.
• Speech of Edmund Burke, Esq. on American Taxation, April 19, 1774, London: 1775. Call Number: C3454 item 3.

Slavery in Colonial British America

• A Caution to Great Britain and Her Colonies, in a Short Representation of the Calamitous State of the Enslaved Negroes in the British Dominions by Anthony Benezet, London: 1767. Call Number: C3749.
• Thoughts Upon Slavery by John Wesley, London: 1774. Call Number: Howey B2111.
• Fragment of an Original Letter on the Slavery of the Negroes; Written in the Year 1776 by Thomas Day, London: 1784. Call Number: Howey C3950 item 2.

Household Matters and Girls’ Education

• The Ready Calculator: or, Trader’s Certain Guide, in Computing the Price, or Amount of Any Quantity of Goods and Merchandizes by Thomas Slack, London: 1771. Call Number: Howey B856.
• An Essay Upon Nursing and the Management of Children, From Their Birth to Three Years of Age by William Cadogan, Boston: 1772. Call Number: C1801.
• Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, Addressed to a Young Lady. In Two Volumes by Mrs. (Hester) Chapone, London: 1773. Call Number: B3783.
• An Essay on the Learning, Genius, and Abilities of the Fair-Sex: Proving Them Not Inferior to Man, From a Variety of Examples, Extracted From Ancient and Modern History, an English translation of Defensa de las mujer by Benito Jerónimo Feijoo y Montenegro, London: 1774. Call Number: B7649.
• The Toilet of Flora, an English translation (with alterations) of La toilette de flore by Pierre-Joseph Buc’hoz, London: 1775. Contains “a collection of the most simple and approved methods of preparing baths, essences, pomatums, powders, perfumes, sweet-scented waters, and opiates for preserving and whitening the teeth” with “receipts [recipes] for cosmetics of every kind, that can smooth and brighten the skin, give force to beauty, and take off the appearance of old age and decay.” Call Number: B8738.
• The Complete Vermin-Killer: A Valuable and Useful Companion for Families, in Town and Country, London: 1777. Includes “safe and quick methods of destroying bugs, lice, fleas, rats, mice, moles, weazels [sic], caterpillars, frogs, pismires, snails, frogs, moths, earwigs, wasps, pole-cats, badgers, foxes, otters, and fish and birds of all kinds.” Also includes “useful family receipts, for the preparation of medicines” and “directions for the purchase, management and cure of horses.” Call Number: Ellis Omnia C437.

Horses

• Observations Upon the Shoeing of Horses: With an Anatomical Description of the Bones in the Foot of a Horse by James Clark, Edinburgh: 1770. Call Number: 18th century Prose 1841.
• A Treatise on Cattle: Shewing the Most Approved Methods of Breeding, Rearing, and Fitting for Use, Horses, Asses, Mules, Horned Cattle, Sheep, Goats, and Swine by John Mills, Dublin: 1776. Call Number: C4072.

Caitlin Klepper
Public Engagement Librarian

The Summerfield Collection at Kenneth Spencer Research Library consists of early-modern printed books, but the focus of a current project supervised by Special Collections Curator Eve Wolynes is to identify instances of binder’s waste and, when possible, identify their original source. Binder’s waste is a term for when parts or pages of an older, often medieval, manuscript are reused as part of the structure of a book’s binding. This could mean the boards of a book, structural support for the spine, or more decorative details like the cover, flyleaves, or similar. Many of the materials used as examples here are currently available for viewing – with a second case of materials highlighting illustrations by Edward Gorey – in Spencer’s North Gallery through May 29th.

Beginning with structure, the most obvious examples of reuse can be found in the interior of a volume, generally on the boards near the spine. This kind of reuse is generally to help support either just the spine or the adherence of the boards and the spine together. Lorenzo Valla’s Elegantiae (Call Number: Summerfield B1962) has an example of this as the paper pasted on top (pastedown) has worn away enough to show some of the reuse (Fig. 1). This is clearly a medieval text, and – while it is fragmented – some of the words such as “Johannes” in the body text and “baptista” in the marginal notation among other examples illustrate that the focus of the text is on John the Baptist.

An example of more spinal support (Fig. 2.1) is seen in Analysis Logica Libri S. Lucae Qui Inscribitur Acta Apostoloru (Call Number: Summerfield B698). The strips are another method in which reuse occurs, though it can also be in longer or wider strips. The strips in this particular volume do not have any text or decoration remaining, so their exact origin cannot be certain. However, it is possible they come from the same leaf that was used to make the cover (Fig. 2.2). Based on the text visible both from the interior of the spine and the exterior cover, we can find that the lyrics to the music sheet are from “Lauda Sion,” a Christian hymn that celebrates Jesus Christ. Reuse of music sheets is fairly common within the Summerfield Collection, likely due to the rubrication and various ink colors or decoration that may accompany them.

Music, although not a particularly popular feature, was not an uncommon form of reuse, either because of its wide availability or because it had some aspect of artistry and thus aesthetic interest for a cover. While actual music sheets may have been popular, texts of chant or hymnal lyrics are also quite common. A book of hours in the Summerfield Collection (Call Number: Summerfield B2890) has one such instance of reuse as the cover consists of a chant to laud St. Louis (Ludovicus in Latin), which would likely have been performed during Mass (Fig. 3).

There were, of course, numerous other ways to reuse materials, but these are some of the most common examples within Spencer’s holdings. While some of the items are currently part of the temporary exhibit, the Summerfield Collection is always available for access in the Reading Room at Kenneth Spencer Research Library.

Kit Cavazos
Public Services student assistant

American author Henry V. Miller (1891-1980) is a divisive literary figure, one who has amassed a dedicated cult following, and yet, whose presence in scholarly discourse has traditionally been somewhat limited. Miller is most widely known for his years in Paris, which resulted in the notorious Tropic of Cancer (1934), famously banned for obscenity in the United States for nearly three decades. Despite his popular characterization as a writer who magnified the obscene and grotesque, it’s not uncommon to find Miller falling into extended, heartfelt reveries covering a profound range of subjects, a contrast that contributes to his reputation as an eclectic writer.

Spencer Library holds a wide range of Henry Miller’s published works, such as an edition of Plexus (1963) limited to two thousand copies. However, the item that might be of most interest to the Miller enthusiast is a small collection of his papers (Call Number: MS P216). This collection primarily consists of typewritten onionskin manuscripts dating from the 1930s, as well as handwritten letters composed during the 1950s. I found the typewritten pieces particularly intriguing; according to the online finding aid, they mostly originate from Miller’s overflowing attempts to write an essay on English novelist D. H. Lawrence.

In her biography of Miller, Mary Dearborn details how the D. H. Lawrence project, or “the Brochure” as it was initially called, developed as Miller was attempting to publish Tropic of Cancer in 1932. The only publisher whose attention he managed to get was Jack Kahane of Obelisk Press, who had misgivings about publishing the controversial contents of Tropic. Thus, Miller was asked to compose an essay on Lawrence in order to assert himself as an intellectual and gain more credibility. [1] The project was eventually published as The World of Lawrence: A Passionate Appreciation, much later in 1980.

I discovered that very little of the Miller manuscripts at Spencer Library actually appear in any published form. The most perplexing was “Self-Portrait,” a four-part piece that is largely devoid of any connection to the D. H. Lawrence essay, especially in its earlier sections. Within it, Miller mentions the “Universe of Death,” a chapter within The World of Lawrence and The Cosmological Eye (1939). Yet, it bears little resemblance to the section as it appears in the book. Similarly, there is a short description of the 1933 film “Extase,” which was likewise detailed in a chapter of the same name in The Cosmological Eye, yet its appearance within “Self-Portrait” is a different piece altogether. The more I read “Self-Portrait,” the more it appeared as a familiar part of Miller rather than a focused reflection on Lawrence (hence the title). The manuscript, framed around a walk through Paris during springtime, bears many hallmarks of Henry Miller’s original style, such as ornate, unconventional prose, descriptions of sordid and lurid elements lurking underneath the quotidian, a personification of Paris, dubious biographical details and nostalgic reminiscences on his earlier days in Brooklyn, musing on favorite authors (Proust and Dostoevsky), and a meandering, abstract form.

The fact that “Self-Portrait” presents itself as creative piece, rather than an analytical one, hints towards its eventual fate. Biographer Jay Martin details that, while Miller “originally regarded ‘Self-Portrait’ as a note to the ‘Universe of Death’ or a coda to ‘The World of Lawrence,’ he always planned it as a personal statement … [taking shape] by looking at himself, or portraying his experience, in a variety of ways.” [2] And Dearborn states that “Miller’s new book, tentatively called ‘Self-Portrait,’ … would eventually appear as Black Spring.” [1] This appears to be the definitive answer: “Self-Portrait,” written as a marginal addition to Miller’s project on D. H. Lawrence, became the premise for a new book entirely, and eventually grew into his collection Black Spring (1936). The process of researching Miller’s “Self-Portrait” emphasized one of the most rewarding aspects of my job here at Spencer Library: being able to uncover little-known parts of literary and cultural history.

Nile Russo
Public Services Student Assistant

[1] Dearborn, Mary V. The Happiest Man Alive: A Biography of Henry Miller. New York: Simon & Schuster, [1992]: 156-163. 

[2] Martin, Jay. Always Merry and Bright: The Life of Henry Miller: An Unauthorized Biography. Santa Barbara, Calif, London: Capra Press ; Sheldon Press, [1979]: 293f.

Special thanks to Special Collections Curator Elspeth Healey for directing me towards the Dearborn and Martin biographies of Henry Miller.

In my ten years working with Spencer collections, it’s been impossible not to notice the name William Stirling Maxwell printed on a wide variety of bookplates in our Special Collections. Maxwell was a Scottish art historian, scholar, art collector, and bibliophile, a portion of whose considerable book collection found its way to Spencer’s stacks in years past.

In a flurry of activity one afternoon last fall, I set out to document as many Stirling Maxwell plates as I could find. I located an impressive 35 unique designs in all, and it’s likely there are others out there, in Spencer’s collection and in the many collections around the world across which Stirling Maxwell’s library is dispersed.

To fit this selection of bookplates into this post, I’ve grouped them together into loose categories and adjusted their sizes. The actual plates range greatly in style and in size, from just a few centimeters long to covering the entire pastedown of a folio volume. I’ve grouped these images based on the more prominently featured design elements, although many of the same motifs are repeated across multiple plates, in particular Stirling Maxwell’s heraldic devices, monograms, and personal or family mottos. Some of the plates bear the name William Stirling, while others include Maxwell, which he added after succeeding the Maxwell Baronetcy in 1865.

It’s clear that Stirling Maxwell took pride in his book collection and derived enjoyment from them; in addition to their personalized bookplates, many of the Stirling Maxwell volumes in Spencer are in fine custom bindings bearing his coat of arms and extensive decoration (another blog post for another day!). I hope you will enjoy perusing this selection (A bevy of bookplates! An excess of ex libris!) as much as I did. Remember that these and all of Spencer’s collections can be viewed in person in our reading room!

Angela Andres
Special Collections Conservator

Charlton Hinman was a looker. Of course, that was true of so many of Fredson Bowers’ students – they tended to be lookers. We won’t make any comment on the relative attractiveness of Charlton Joseph Kadio Hinman or Bowers’ students, but we refer instead to the tradition of close examination and description of books that Bowers codified and Hinman continued here at the University of Kansas. On the north side of the Marilyn Stokstad Reading Room at Kenneth Spencer Research Library is the Hinman Collator, a hulking grey machine that stands as a reminder of (and a tool for) precisely that kind of work. Our colleague Caitlin Klepper wrote a post about the collator previously, but we thought we might delve more in-depth here.

Modern descriptive bibliography – the close physical examination and description of books – begins with Fredson Bowers’ book Principles of Bibliographical Description (1949). Bowers was a professor of English at the University of Virginia, and Charlton Hinman was Bowers’ first PhD student there. Both Hinman and Bowers had analytical minds with similar bents, which served them well in the Second World War. They were involved in cryptography and code breaking, with Bowers again leading Hinman as his commanding officer. Following their service, Bowers returned to Virginia, publishing the aforementioned Principles.

Hinman’s dissertation, The Printing of the First Quarto of Othello, led to his first position as a research fellow at the Folger Shakespeare Library, where he collated copies of the first folio of Othello. It was Hinman’s time as a fellow at the Folger that inspired his creation of the collation machine. Collation – or, the work of examining and describing the physical evidence in a copy of a book – is time consuming. Hinman’s work was even more intensive, as he sought to find all of the different states of the pages down to the most minor corrections or insertions made by the printer in the course of printing the book. Looking at each page of text line by line is an almost impossible task. Hinman hints at this problem in his preliminary essay about the machine, which was titled “Mechanized Collation: A Preliminary Report” and printed in the Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America in 1947.

Hinman’s time in the military helped point the way to a solution, supposedly through military reconnaissance use of photography. He described the idea of taking two pictures of the same area and rapidly alternating them to spot differences. He didn’t claim he had done it as part of his cryptography work; rather, he claimed he heard about it while in the military. However, the process Hinman described was never used for reconnaissance purposes. While the military did use aerial photography, they didn’t use any method that alternated two images in a similar way to the function of the Collator. In his article “‘The Eternal Verities Verified’: Charlton Hinman and the Roots of Mechanical Collation” (Studies in Bibliography, 2000), Steven Escar Smith writes that “using World War II technology, it simply would not have been possible to photograph the same patch of ground twice from exactly the same altitude and position.” According to Smith, Hinman seems to have acknowledged that the story wasn’t entirely true, but it’s not clear whether he actually discouraged its telling.

Arthur M. Johnson, Hinman’s partner who took over building and selling collators around 1956, may have been the one to accurately describe how Hinman got the idea for the collator. Johnson wrote that Hinman had studied something that Johnson called an “astronomer’s microscope.” It used the same principle of “blink comparison” to compare images of the night sky, most famously by Kansan (and KU alumnus) Clyde W. Tombaugh in his observation of Pluto. Although it’s not known whether Hinman ever saw or used a blink comparator, he knew of the one at the observatory at UVA when he was a PhD student there. This was the true technological ancestor of Hinman’s machine.

These kinds of devices are simpler than the Hinman Collator in that one can use flat images of similar size – not possible with books. Hinman’s great improvement and contribution, then, was the creation of a machine that could deal with books of different sizes, thicknesses, and even formats. Hinman had a long career as a professor of English, first at Johns Hopkins University (1945-1960) and then at the University of Kansas (1960-1975), where he eventually became a University Distinguished Professor of English. Approximately 50 collators survive. The collator at Spencer (A9 in Steven Escar Smith’s 2002 census of existing Hinman Collators, published in Studies in Bibliography) is one of two that remain that Hinman himself used; the other is at the Folger Library. The effect of the collator is reproduced in this short video by Sam Lemley. Bibliographer J.P. Ascher has also made a good video about how one might use the collator, utilizing the machine at the University of Virginia.

Hoping to actually use Spencer’s machine, we ventured to the Reading Room before opening. We powered it on, and, to our delight, the 400-pound machine came to life. Unfortunately, this was not to be, as we discovered that the “blink” feature, the key function, is not currently working. Thanks to the efforts of our colleague Molly Bauer, we are slowly learning what might be wrong and what the fix might be. Look for a follow-up post in the spring about our efforts, as well as digital alternatives to optical collation that bibliographers can use today.

The Hinman Collator, for now, stands as a testament to the ongoing work of descriptive an analytical bibliography here at the University of Kansas. Much like its creator, the machine is complicated and devoted to a very specific purpose – close looking at material objects we regularly take for granted.

Jason W. Dean and Adrienne Sanders
Rare Materials Cataloging Librarians