Author Archives: tavistock_books

Caring for Your Rare and Antiquarian Maps

Rare book collectors often encounter maps, which present special challenges because they’ve usually been folded (and unfolded and refolded again) as part of their original use. They also make wonderful display pieces, so collectors may have to consider preservation and conservation for maps as hanging art.

Handling Antique Maps

When the oils and salts on your hands contact the paper, they can contribute to deterioration over time. Using white gloves is one option to avoid this, but wearing gloves also reduces your ability to feel what you’re handling–which can lead to tears and other issues. Most experts agree that freshly washed, thoroughly dried hands are preferable.

Guide for the Pennsylvania Railroad (1855)

Always move old maps with caution; even the mount of a map can get brittle or split. Place a supportive, acid-free surface on your viewing space. That way you can lay the map on the surface and use the surface to move or tilt the map for viewing or other purposes. When you do pick up the map itself, use both hands to reduce the risk for bending, creasing, or tears.

Storing Your Rare Maps

Ideally all your maps will be stored flat, in either shallow drawers or acid-free boxes. Avoid stacking them on top of each other, as acid, mold, and other particulate can easily be transferred from one leaf to another. Each item should be stored in its own folder or mylar envelope. If a map is too large to be stored flat, it can be stored in a large-diameter tube made of acid-free paper or lined in mylar. Be sure to roll your maps parallel to the enter fold, rather than perpendicular. Place items inside a metal or wooden cabinet to protect the map’s edges from bumping.

Be sure to remove paper clips, binder clips, and post-its from your rare maps before storage. Metal corrodes over time, staining the paper underneath, while any acid-containing paper (such as a post-it) can cause ghosting on the paper underneath. If your item came with paperclips or other attachments, carefully document their location and other specifics before storing them separately.

Repairing Antique Maps

Because maps were (and are) frequently packaged with plenty of folds, maps are particularly susceptible to deterioration and tears along creases. While you may be able to complete very simple repairs at home, most should be handled by professionals. Misguided restoration efforts can drastically impact the value of your map. If your map has pencil marks or surface soil in the margins or on the verso, you can gently remove these with a soft eraser or with a dry cleaning pad and soft brush.

Like books, some antique maps have non-paper components. For instance, The Traveller’s and Tourist’s Guide through the United States and Canada has a wallet-style leather binding with gilt lettering. Talk to an experienced conservator about the best ways to care for leather and other materials without damaging the paper of your map.

Williams’ Traveller’s and Tourist’s Guide through the United States (1851)

Displaying Antiquarian Maps

Ultraviolet light triggers a chemical breakdown in paper. Avoid hanging antiquarian maps in direct sunlight; though glass provides some UV protection, it’s not sufficient to ensure that the document will not begin to break down. If an item is particularly precious, consider glazing the glass, which affords more UV protection. You can also rotate the locations of your hanging maps to prevent damage due to uneven light or temperature. Whenever you rotate your maps, take a few moments to examine each frame. Ensure that the bumpers and hanging mechanisms are still secure, and inspect the dust jacket.

As for mounting and framing itself, these processes are best left to professionals. They’ll be well versed in using archival materials, protecting both sides of your maps, and the perils of trimming a map’s margins. A knowledgeable dealer will happily offer you referrals to excellent framing professionals.

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The Two Endings of Charles Dickens’ ‘Great Expectations’

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Charles Dickens, oil painting, William Powell Frith, 1859. (Victoria & Albert Museum)

Surely Charles Dickens took many secrets to his grave, but one of those secrets didn’t last long. Dickens made a significant change to the ending of Great Expectations–and in the nick of time! He’d already sent his manuscript off to the publisher when he decided on the change. Dickens’ indecision means that collectors have a few different editions of this great novel to add to their personal libraries.

A Considerable Emendation

It was relatively common for authors to change their work, sometimes even between printings. Henry James, for instance, was notorious for updating his drafts multiple times. So Dickens’ last-minute emendation to Great Expectations isn’t entirely unheard of–he, like James, actually made such changes with relative frequency.

However, Dickens had also originally promised that Great Expectations would be lighter fare than its predecessor, Tale of Two Cities. In an October 1860 letter to John Forster, Dickens wrote “You will not have to complain of the want of humor as in Tale of Two Cities. I have made the opening, I hope, in its general effect exceedingly droll.”* The novel took a different turn, and Dickens’ original ending was melancholy indeed.

“I was in England again–in London, and walking along Piccadilly with Little Pip–when a servant came running after me to ask would I step back to a lady in a carriage who wished to speak to me. It was a little pony carriage, which the lady was driving; and the lady and I looked sadly enough on one another.

‘I am greatly changed, I know, but I thought you would like to shake hands with Estella too, Pip. Lift up that pretty child and let me kiss it!’ (She supposed the child, I think, to be my child.)

I was very glad afterwards to have had the interview; for, in her face and in her voice, and in her touch, she gave me the assurance, that suffering had been stronger than Miss Havisham’s teaching, and had given her a heart to understand what my heart used to be.”

Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Dickens submitted Great Expectations with this ending in 1861 and went to visit his friend and fellow author Edward Bulwer-Lytton. Lytton was a popular figure in his own right as a writer of crime historical and crime novels. He was also a man of privilege, and it’s likely that Dickens respected Lytton as both an author and as a gentleman. Probably on these grounds, Dickens shared the Great Expectations manuscript with Lytton.

He may have been surprised with Lytton’s reaction. Rather than wholeheartedly praising Dickens’ latest novel, Lytton urged Dickens to rewrite the ending completely. Dickens intimated that “Bulwer was so very anxious that I should alter the end…and stated his reasons so well, that I have resumed the wheel, and taken another turn at it.” What Dickens came up with has been the standard ending since 1862:

“‘I little thought,’ said Estella, ‘that I should take leave of you in taking leave of this spot. I am very glad to do so.’

‘Glad to part again, Estella? To me, parting is a painful thing. To me, the remembrance of our last meeting has been ever mournful and painful.’

‘But you said to me,’ returned Estella, very earnestly, ‘”God bless you, God forgive you!'”And if you could say that to me then, you will not hesitate to say that to me now–now, when suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but–I hope–into a better shape. Be as considerate and good to me as you were, and tell me we are friends.’

‘We are friends,’ said I, rising and bending over her, as she rose from the bench.

‘And will continue friends apart,’ said Estella.

I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her.

In his manuscript, the final line reads “I saw the shadow of no parting from her, but one.” And the first edition offers yet another variation of that closing line: “I saw the shadow of no parting from her.” Dickens was clearly ambivalent about the novel’s ending. But his eye for the market probably led him to write an ending that can be interpreted as Estella and Pip “walking off into the sunset” together. If he’d wanted that, wouldn’t he have made the ending more obviously happy, as he did in Bleak House, Little Dorrit, and David Copperfield?

Complications for Dickens Critics and Collectors

Critics have been rehashing the endings of Great Expectations since the book was published. The dual endings also create a bit of a complication for collectors; ordinarily the first edition of a work is enough for a collector to “check something off the list.” In the case of Great Expectations, however, true Dickens collectors will want a few more items.

Because Dickens slightly changed the wording of the ending after the first edition, most collectors look for both the first edition and the 1862 edition, which was the first to include the now-ubiquitous ending. Forster’s biography, where the alternate ending made its first appearance in print, is also a highly desirable volume. And finally, Dickens’ original ending did not appear alongside the text of Great Expectations until 1937, when George Bernard Shaw included it in his preface for the Limited Editions publication of the novel.

This is one example of an instance where collectors would seek both a first edition and subsequent editions for a complete collection of an author’s oeuvre. It also shows us the value of basic bibliographic resources that can identify and elucidate these kinds of circumstances, along with working with an expert professional bookseller who can guide your collecting efforts.

*This letter is apparently not currently extant, though we know of it through Forster’s Life of Dickens (vol 3, p 329).

A Brief History of Broadsides

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“Broadsides are the most legitimate representatives of the most ephemeral literature, the least likely to escape destruction, and yet they are the most vivid exhibitors of the manners, arts, and daily life, of communities and nations. They imply a vast deal more than they literally express, and disclose visions of interior conditions of society, such as cannot be found in formal narratives.”

-Samuel F Haven

Samuel F Haven, former librarian for the American Antiquarian Society, presided over one of the largest collections of broadsides in the world. Historians and rare book collectors alike cherish broadsides because they offer snapshots of moments in time, helping us to understand the zeitgeist of that era. Broadsides make ideal complements to a rare book collection, granting the collection greater depth and context.

What a Broadside Is (and Isn’t)

Broadsides are single-sheet documents that are printed on only one side. They’re sometimes also called broadsheets. They’re different from handbills, which are smaller and printed on both sides. Broadsides should also not be confused with leaflets or booklets, which are folded from a single sheet of paper. The size of broadsides varies greatly, but they are generally smaller than posters and billboards.

Early broadsides didn’t include illustrations. They were simple documents printed in black ink. As printing processes got more sophisticated over time, the broadside also evolved. They began to include stock illustrations done from copper or wood engravings and eventually bore more intricate and relevant illustrations.

The Emergence and Decline of Broadsides

In Europe, broadsides came into use almost as soon as the printing press was invented. They first appeared in the United States during the seventeenth century, which the technology of moveable type and the printing press finally made its way to the colonies. For centuries, the broadside was the preferred format for delivering public announcements. They were also a cost effective way to distribute poetry, songs, and satire.

Bonnie Prince Charlie declares the illegitimacy of Parliament and calls all its attendees traitors. A fantastic artifact from the Jacobite rebellion.

Perhaps the most famous broadside in the United States is the broadside version of the Declaration of Independence published by John Durham on July 4 and 5, 1776. Thanks to this document, news of the declaration swept through the colonies. The John Durham broadside is a perfect example of how these artifacts can encapsulate a pivotal moment in history. Only a few decades earlier, Prince Charles of Wales had used a broadside to make a truly shocking announcement. He declared Parliament illegitimate and branded its participants as traitors. The broadside captures the heat of the Jacobite rebellion.

Before the end of the nineteenth century, broadsides had begun to fall into disuse. They’d been replaced by newspapers and radio for delivering news. Posters and billboards had replaced broadsides as advertisements. Today the occasional fine press artist produces a broadside, but the form has been rendered obsolete by technology.

Preserving and Collecting Broadsides

Broadsides fall into the category of ephemera because they weren’t made to last long. They were intended for quick consumption and therefore were often printed on cheap paper. Few people thought to keep broadsides, and the ones that did get saved are often in less than ideal condition. They may have folds and rips, or they may have been poorly repaired using the wrong materials. To protect broadsides from further damage, it’s important to protect them with a mylar sheath. Your broadsides can then be stored flat in a climate controlled environment.

The broadside edition of Macdonald’s “A Song for Chistmas” is incredibly rare. This is an inscribed presentation copy.

Meanwhile the ephemeral nature of broadsides is what makes them so valuable to rare book collectors. Some people actually specialize in broadsides. But the avid collector may supplement works by a favorite author with related broadsides. For example, a collector of George Macdonald would be interested in the broadside edition of Macdonald’s poem “A Song for Christmas.” Published around 1887, the broadside is the first appearance of the poem. It’s not published again until the 1890’s, when it appears in a collected volume. Macdonald’s “A Song for Christmas” broadside is now extremely rare; OCLC and KVK document only one other copy, at the Library of Scotland.

Chatto referred to this very broadside in his “Facts and Speculations on the Origin and History of Playing Cards”

Sometimes broadsides even served as sources for authors. William Andrew Chatto wrote about leisurely pursuits such as fly-fishing, smoking, and playing cards. In his 1848 Facts and Speculations on the Origin and History of Playing Cards, Chatto cites a Catnatch broadside called “The Perpetual Almanack; or, Gentleman Soldier’s Prayer Book.” The broadside tells the tale of Richard Middleton, who was taken before the mayor for using cards during a church service. Chatto notes that his own cards have been a “moral monitor and help to devotion.”

As your rare book collection progresses, incorporating broadsides is an excellent step to broaden the scope of the collection. What was the first broadside in your collection? And why did it appeal to you?

Alexander Pope’s Legacy of Satire and Scholarship

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On May 21, 1688 Alexander Pope was born to Alexander and Edith Pope. Despite all odds, Pope would blossom into a preeminent British poet of the eighteenth century. Pope left behind an ingenious translation of Homer’s Iliad, along with a robust body of poetry and criticism. Though history has not always been kind to Pope, he’s recognized as a truly masterful poet whose influence can still be felt.

Challenges of Anti-Catholicism and Illness

Pope’s parents were recent converts to Catholicism, and they chose an inopportune time to leave the Church of England; anti-Catholic sentiments ran high, and the Test Acts seriously limited the rights and opportunities of Catholics. The family was forced to move out of London to Binfield. Catholics were also forbidden to attend public schools, so Pope was mostly educated at home by his aunt. For a few years he attended a Catholic school in London, but he taught himself French, Italian, Latin, and Greek. Pope had discovered Homer by the time he was six years old.

When Pope was 12 years old, he published his earliest extant work, Ode to Solitude. That same year, he developed the first symptoms of a disease that would cripple him for the rest of his life. Now largely accepted to be Pott’s disease, a form of tuberculosis, the illness stunted Pope’s growth and caused severe deformation of his spine. He never grew over four-and-a-half feet, and he remained frail and asthmatic throughout his life. Pope’s size and appearance would later make easy fodder for his detractors, who called him the “hump-backed toad.”

A Rapid Rise to Fame

In 1710, Pope’s Pastorals appeared in Jacob Tonson’s Poetical Miscellanies. Pope claims, however, that he wrote the poem earlier, when he was only 16 years old. The following year saw Essays on Criticism published anonymously–but everyone knew it was Pope. The work highlighted Pope’s mastery of (and preference for) the heroic couplet. It also attracted the attention of more established poets Jonathan Swift and John Gay. Together, the three poets would go on to found the Scriblerus Club. Its purpose: to satirize ignorance and poor taste. Scriblerus, a precursor to Pope’s Dunciad, features the inept character Martinus Scriblerus, who embodies incompetent criticism and scholarship.

When Pope published The Rape of the Lock in 1712, he cemented his position as an outstanding poet of the time. The poem pokes fun at a real-life squabble between two prominent Catholic families over the theft of a young woman’s lock of hair. Pope was now part of a circle of elite writers that included not only Swift and Gay, but also Joseph Addison, Thomas Parnell, and John Arbuthnot. These writers were all overtly Tory, but Pope’s true political standing was never clear.

An Authorial Living Thanks to Homer

Swift consistently encouraged Pope to undertake a translation of Homer’s Iliad. The project was a huge risk; Pope was only 25 at the time and still had anti-Catholic laws working against him. He didn’t have a private patronage as many other writers had. Thus Swift undertook the work of building a subscription list for Pope’s translation. Swift’s efforts paid off. He built an impressive list in both length and prestige. Thanks to the subscriptions, Pope did what few other authors of the time could: he actually made a comfortable living as a writer.

Pope published The Iliad in six volumes, writing 30 to 50 verses per day. He wrote his drafts on the backs of letters to him and to his mother. His first volume came out in 1715, at the same time that Thomas Tickell published a rival edition. Pope’s was accepted as quite superior, even though it bears little resemblance to the original Greek text. Samuel Johnson even declared it the best translation of all time, in any language. Pope used the same subscription model when he tackled The Odyssey.

When Pope’s father passed away in 1719, Pope moved back to the family estate at Twickenham. He used the profits from The Iliad to construct an incredible grotto on the property. It had a camera obscura and other enticing features. The grotto still stands today, though it’s not often open to the public.

Pope Sparks Controversy

Pope decided to undertake his own adaptation of Shakespeare. It didn’t meet the same acceptance as his adaptations of Homer because Pope “corrected” the Bard’s verse. He also changed the text in many places, but left earlier corruptions untouched. Scholar and critic Lewis Theobald excoriated Pope for the work. Pope fought back, making Theobald the protagonist of the Dunciad.

Pope’s Dunciad sparked an incredibly hostile response–so hostile that Pope would leave his house only with two loaded pistols in his pockets. William Broome, who had collaborated with Pope on The Odyssey, also found himself a target in the Dunciad. He was surprised that Pope didn’t receive more vituperation: “I wonder he’s not been thrashed, but his littleness is his protection; no man shoots a wren.”

In 1735, a year after Pope published Essay on Man, Pope placed himself at the center of another controversy. An unauthorized version of Pope’s correspondence appeared, the work of notoriously unscrupulous publisher Edmund Curll. Collected correspondence was relatively rare at the time, so the publication caused quite a furor. In reality, Pope had edited his own letters and delivered them to Curll in secret.

Pope’s health began to suffer in 1738. He turned his attention to revising the Dunciad, this time with British poet laureate Colly Cibber as the protagonist. Cibber was widely thought to lack talent and to have used political connections to get the position of laureate.

Reception of Pope

Pope’s work remained influential until the nineteenth century. The Romantics saw Homer as a bard, a poet close to nature. Pope’s imposition of rigid structure on the blind poet’s work was considered quite the opposite–unnatural, contrived. Furthermore, the Romantics saw little merit in Pope’s acerbic wit and biting criticism. Later, however, writers and scholars recognized that Homer’s Greece was a place of strict adherence to customs about sacrifice, prayer, war, and hospitality. The strict prosody of Pope’s adaptation reflected the codified social customs of Greece. Pope is now esteemed as one of the great writers of his century.

The Man Behind the Beloved Freddy Series

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George Orwell’s Animal Farm (1945) is synonymous with talking animals, but Orwell wasn’t the first to populate a novel with anti-establishmentarian, anthropomorphic animals. Walter R Brooks created the beloved Freddy the Pig and his friends on Bean Farm almost two decades earlier. Though Brooks’ Freddy books aren’t as overtly political as Orwell’s work, they do depict animals overcoming corrupt authority. Brooks had a rich, varied literary career that included not only the Freddy novels, but also numerous short stories, editorials, and literary reviews.

Brooks was born in Rome, New York on January 9, 1886. When he was four years old, his father passed away. His mother died eleven years later, and Walter was sent to Mohegan Lake Military Academy in Peekskill, New York. He stayed there from 1902 until 1904, where he moved in with his sister Elsie in Rochester. Elsie’s husband, Dr. William Perrin was a renowned homeopathic physician and a professor at the University of Rochester. Brooks took classes there for a few years, and in 1906 he went to New York City to study at the Homeopathic Medical College and Flower College. Brooks left New York City in 1908, returning to Rochester to marry Anne Shepherd.

Mr-Ed The year 1910 found Brooks in an entirely new field; he worked for Frank Du Noyer advertising agency in Utica. His tenure there proved short, however. In 1911, Brooks “retired.” It’s speculated that when his maiden aunts passed away, Brooks inherited a significant sum. He turned his attention to writing. Brooks was published for the first time in 1915, when his sonnet “Haunted” was printed in Century magazine. That same year, his short story “Harden’s Chance” appeared in Forum magazine. Two years later, Brooks joined the American Red Cross as a publicist. He continued writing short stories, however, and in 1934 began selling stories to Esquire. In total, Brooks published more than 100 short stories, 25 of which featured Ed the talking horse–the inspiration for the TV series “Mr. Ed.”

In 1927, Walter published the first Freddy book under the title To and Again (later, Freddy Goes to Florida). He would go on to write a total of 26 books featuring Freddy the Pig. Meanwhile, in 1928 Brooks embarked on a series of positions with various magazines. Until 1932, he was a columnist and book review editor for The Outlook and Independent. Through these positions, Brooks was among the first to discover Dashielle Hammett. Brooks went on to write for New Yorker, Fiction Parade, and Scribner’s Commentator.

Walter-R-Brooks-Freddy-Series The Freddy books were by far Brooks’ most popular, and they sold quite well. Set on the Bean Farm in upstate New York, they included both human and animal characters–and the humans never seemed too surprised that the animals could talk. Freddy isn’t a likely hero; he’s quite lazy and manages to accomplish anything only because it’s easier to keep going once he’s gotten started. The novels’ villains frequently represent some form of the Establishment, and the novels’ conflicts generally appeal to children’s sense of fairness and equality.

Critics have likened the Freddy books to AA Milne’s Winnie the Pooh books and Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows. Despite their mass appeal, however, the Freddy books began going out of print in the 1960’s. Thanks to the urging of Friends of Freddy, Alfred A Knopf issued new paperback editions of eight titles in 1986 and 1987. They included an introduction by Brooks’ biographer, Michael Cart, and gleaned substantial praise from reviewers. Now the books are available from the Overlook Press.

Although Brooks’ works are no longer in the spotlight, they’re still much loved among a devoted circle of fans. Many collectors also love the Freddy series, not only because the books evoke their childhood, but also because the books have wonderfully attractive dust jackets and illustrations.

Rare Books a Mother Could Love

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This Sunday the United States celebrates Mothers Day, and many of us are still searching for the perfect gift ideas. If your mother has a predilection for rare books, choose the perfect volume for her personal library.

Evoke Childhood Memories

Classic children’s books give Mom an opportunity to reminisce about her youth–and to share a piece of her childhood with future generations. Choose a title from a beloved series.

The Poppy Ott series by Leo Edwards (pseudonym for Edward Edson Lee) was published in the 1920’s and 1930’s. Though these books were primarily marketed for boys, plenty of girls fell in love with Poppy Ott and his penchant for stumbling into adventure.

Palmer Cox’s Brownies series recounts the adventures of mischievous, fairy-like sprites in humorous verse. These books were already beloved classics by the turn of the 20th century and maintained their popularity long after.

Mildred A Wirt wrote the perennially popular Nancy Drew series under the pen name Carolyn Keene. Nancy Drew and her friends always managed to find a mystery, and the series remains in print today.

The Japanese Fairy Tales series, published in Tokyo in the 1890’s, offer a beautiful glimpse into the mores and stories of Japan. Bound in the “yamoto toji” style, the books are in french-fold format and printed on crepe paper.

Bring Art to the Shelves

The right rare art book is both visually stunning and intellectually engaging. If your mother loves art–or beautiful objects–one of these rare items may be the ideal gift.

Lewis Lott produced his Collection of Beautiful Miniatures in the 1860’s. It includes faithful reproductions of 70 original miniature paintings, mostly from the 14th and 15th centuries.

Chang Dai-chien was one of the most renowned and prolific Chinese artists of the 20th century. This collection, published by the East Society, includes 130 reproductions of his paintings since 1944.

Frances Hebert’s original watercolor of Santa Catalina Island’s Avalon Bay in California depicts an elevated view of the bay, from the hills to the South-Southeast. It’s matted and mounted in a gilded wooden frame.

Share a New Perspective on a Favorite Author

Some legendary authors, like Walt Whitman, are famous for leaving behind copiously annotated manuscripts. These documents provide a more dynamic view of the author’s work, but they’re not the only way to offer a fresh perspective on a beloved writer.

Louisa May Alcott is famous for Little Women, but fewer people know that she served in a hospital. Hospital Sketches and Camp and Fireside Stories includes six sketches about Alcott’s time working in the hospital.

Anais Nin’s first book was DH Lawrence: An Unprofessional Study. The work gives us insight on both Lawrence and Nin, an unusual combination and an interesting item for collectors of either author.

Poet, artist, and dancer Sven Berlin was a member of the St. Ives art colony–until a falling out with other writers over his novel The Dark Monarch. This original draft of Berlin’s Amergin the White Stag contains magnificent pen and ink drawings to be used as illustrations, along with Berlin’s notes to the typist, chapter notes, etc. It’s truly an intriguing manuscript.

Even if none of the above suits your mother, all of us here at Tavistock Books wish all mothers the very best of days! We thank you for visiting our blog, and hope you enjoy your day!

The Millerites and the Great Disappointment

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William Miller

The Seventh-day Adventist Church rose from what most would consider an epic failure. William Miller predicted the return of Christ–inaccurately, and his followers broke into multiple sects, of which the Seventh-day Adventist Church was one. The literature and ephemera of the Millerite community offers a fascinating look at religion and spirituality in the mid-1800’s.

A Brief History of Millerism

The early 1800’s saw a resurgence in millenarianism, the belief that a major event or movement would cause a drastic transformation in society. Specifically, millenarianists believed in the prophecy of Revelation, which predicts that God’s kingdom on Earth will last 1,000 years after Jesus’ return. Thus, the ground was fertile for the theology of William Miller, for whom Millerism is named.

Miller started out as a farmer in upstate New York. He was also a lay preacher in the Baptist church. He embarked on an exhaustive study of the prophecies of Daniel. A subscriber to the year-day method of prophetic interpretation, Miller believed that a “day” in the Scripture represented a year of real time–meaning that we could predict the exact date of Jesus’ return. By September of 1822, Miller had published his conclusions in a twenty-point document, though he shared the document with very few people.

Miller began sharing his ideas more openly among his inner circle. Initially, he met with disinterest. He said, “To my astonishment, I found very few who listened with any interest. Occasionally one would see the force of the evidence, but the great majority passed it it by as an idle tale. But when Miller began lecturing publicly in 1831, he began to gain a following. The following year, he submitted 16 articles to the Baptist paper Vermont Telegraph. Soon he was unable to personally address all the correspondence and speaking requests he received as a result of the articles.

To remedy that problem, Miller published a 64-page tract that summarized his predictions. At this point, he still had not specified a date for Jesus’ return; instead, he suggested that the Advent would occur in 1843 or 1844. As the years passed, Miller gained more and more attention–in large part due to Millerite publications. Miller’s campaign got a significant bump when Joshua Vaughan Himes, a preacher and publisher, began printing the fortnightly paper Signs of the Times. The first issue was published on February 28, 1840, and the periodical is still published by the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

“The Battle of the Great Day”

As Miller’s ideas gained ground, numerous items in the Millerite tradition were published. One such item was a broadside called “The Battle of the Great Day.” Based on Revelation 16: 12-21, the broadside was published by prolific preacher Thomas Williams around 1838. Though several works by Williams are recorded in UMI’s “Millerites and Early Adventists,” this item is not. The OCLC lists only one other institutional holding, at Brown University.

By 1843, there were at least 48 Millerite publications. Meanwhile, Miller had narrowed down his dates at the urging of his followers. Now he offered a year-long window: March 21, 1843 to March 21, 1844. When March 21, 1844 came and went without incident, most Millerites maintained their faith. They briefly adopted a new end date of April 18, 1844, based on the Karaite calendar rather than the Rabbinic one. When that date also passed, they believed they’d entered “tarrying time,” a period of waiting mentioned in both the books of Daniel and Habakkuk. This idea sustained them through July of 1844.

In August of that year, Samuel S. Snow presented a new theory at a meeting in Exeter, New Hampshire. Known as the “seventh-month message,” Snow’s prediction was still based on the 2300 prophecy of Daniel, which stated that Jesus’ return would occur on the tenth day of the seventh month. Again using the Karaite calendar, Snow calculated that October 22, 1844 as the date of the Advent. When Snow, too, proved incorrect and nothing happened on October 22, the Millerites experienced what has since been called the Great Disappointment. The movement soon fell apart as the Millerites struggled to reconcile their beliefs with reality. Multiple sects emerged, one of which was the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

The Cartography of Faith

Many Millerites turned to Scripture, hoping to find an error in Miller and Snow’s calculations. One of these was Jonathan Cummings, a farmer who’d become a preacher in 1830. Cummings wrote a lengthy letter to Himes, which was published in the Advent Herald on November 2, 1852. He offered new insight on the chronology. Cummings also produced a fascinating banner-size chart (pictured below and recently sold) that identifies 1854 as the year for the Second Coming. He also printed An Explanation of the Prophetic Chart and Application of the Truth to accompany the banner.

While Cummings was not the only Millerite to recalculate the date of the Second Coming, his unusual chart is featured and discussed in both Cartographies of Time and the Encyclopedia of American Folk Art. The OCLC records only five institutional holdings of the banner, making it an exceptionally rare publication to be found on today’s market.

The Millerite movement certainly fueled the publication of many fascinating rare books and ephemera. Tavistock Books is always interested in acquiring items like Cummings’ chart and Williams’ broadside. Please contact us if you would like more information about what we’re looking for, or if you have an item of interest.

Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare!

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Today we celebrate the birthday of the world’s most famous playwright and poet, William Shakespeare. While he’s best known for works like Romeo and Juliet, Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Macbeth, Shakespeare produced an incredibly diverse body of work that includes many overlooked pieces. Scholars have approached Shakespeare from countless angles. Both Shakespeare’s works and Shakespearean scholarship have fascinated rare book collectors for centuries, and the items below offer an interesting glimpse into Shakespeare’s genius.

Cymbeline

Cymbeline: A Tragedy is based on part of the Historia Regum Britanniae of Geoffrey of Monmouth, which details the life of British monarch Cunobelinus. Shakespeare, of course, weaves in multiple sub-plots and adapts the story to make it more dramatic and engaging. The date of Cymbeline’s authorship isn’t certain, though it was certainly performed as early as 1611. It used to be one of Shakespeare’s most highly regarded plays but has fallen out of favor in the past few centuries. Multiple scholars have asserted that Shakespeare worked with a collaborator to write Cymbeline; several passages sound patently “un-Shakespearean.” Our 1734 edition of Cymbeline, printed for J. Tonson, includes a frontis by Guernier and a title page printer’s ornament of a bust of Shakespeare.

The History of Sir John Oldcastle

Originally published anonymously in 1600, The History of Sir John Oldcastle, the Good Lord Cobham is an extremely rare Shakespearean work. The second edition (1619) attributed the work to Shakespeare. Sir John Oldcastle was a real person who was hanged and burned for heresy and treason in 1417. Oldcastle is incorporated as a minor character in Famous Victories of Henry V, which was undoubtedly a source for Shakespeare’s Henry IV and Henry V. Earlier versions of Henry IV use “Oldcastle,” rather than “Falstaff,” and it’s thought that Shakespeare changed the name to avoid offending the Cobham family. According to Jaggard, who cites Henslowe’s diary, authorship of this history was a joint effort of Drayton, Munday, Wilson, and Hathway. Other scholars even assert that these four actually wrote The History of Sir John Oldham as a response to Shakespeare’s Henry IV. Regardless of its authorship, the piece is exceptionally scarce on the commercial market.

Shakespeare Head Press Booklets

In 1904, Elizabethan scholar AH Bullen established the Shakespeare Head Press in Stratford-upon-Avon. His goal: to produce an exceptional version of Shakespeare’s works. Bullen administered the private press until his death in 1927; it was then acquired by a partnership that included Oxford bookseller Basil Blackwell. The press has become quite famous in its own right. This collection of Shakespeare Head Press booklets represents early works from the press and includes “Ancient Carols” (2nd ed); “Festive Songs for Christmas” (2nd ed); “Shakespeare’s Songs”; “The Nutbrown Maid”; “A Lover’s Complaint”; and “The Phoenix and Turtle.”

The Great Cryptogram

The full title of this work is The Great Cryptogram: Francis Bacon’s Cipherin the So-Called Shakespeare Plays (1888). Its author, Ignatius Donnelly, began his career as a Minnesota farmer and went on to be a Congressman for the state. He was active in the formation of the Populist Party. Later, Donnelly turned his efforts to authorship, and here he argues that philosopher Francis Bacon is the real author of Shakespeare’s works. Donnelly’s argument was a popular one in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Donnelly traveled to England to arrange an English publication of the work. He spoke at Oxford Union, and his thesis “Resolved, that the works of William Shakespeare were composed by Francis Bacon,” was defeated by vote. Donnelly found himself publicly discredited, and the book was a failure.

Assorted Scholarship

The breadth, depth, and impact of Shakespeare’s works have resulted in an immense body of Shakespearean scholarship. You’ll find works that explore Shakespeare’s connection to Charles Dickens or Shakespeare and Milton, along with more obscure items like Christopher Morley’s lectures on Shakespeare and Hawaii. These items are often relatively affordable, making them both interesting and accessible for rare book collectors. They also add context and texture to a Shakespeare collection.

Charles Dickens’ Debt to Henry Fielding

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Henry Fielding

Charles Dickens

When Charles Dickens’ sixth son was born on January 16, 1849, the boy was named for one of Dickens’ favorite authors. Supposedly Dickens had first thought to name the boy after Oliver Goldsmith, but he feared the child would be ridiculed as “Oliver always asking for more.” Instead he named his son Henry Fielding Dickens, after legendary 18th-century author Henry Fielding. Though Dickens was born too late to meet Fielding, his predecessor had a profound impact on Dickens’ work.

A Father of the Novel

Henry Fielding (April 22, 1707-Oct 8, 1754) began his literary career due to financial distress. At the time writing plays could be quite lucrative, so Fielding turned his attention to drama. His first play, Love in Several Masques (1728), was an immediate success, and over the next several years Fielding would write at least 25 more plays. Most of these had little literary merit. In 1736, Fielding wrote Pasquin, a Dramatic Satire of the Times, which was performed 60 times in only three months. The play attacked the administration of Sir Robert Walpole, portraying the government as rife with corruption.

Fielding followed with The Historical Register for the Year 1736 (1737), which was even more critical of Sir Walpole’s administration. The play was so overtly critical that it caused worry among government officials. Sir Walpole seized the opportunity to pass the License Act of 1737, turning over control of the theatre to Lord Chamberlain. After that, it was virtually impossible to produce a satirical play, and Fielding found his career as a dramatist at an abrupt end. Though Fielding turned back to the law to make his money, he soon found himself facing financial trouble. He began editing the anti-Walpole The Champion, or British Mercury (1739-1741), writing under the pseudonym Captain Hercules Vinegar.

Then Samuel Richardson published the first two volumes of Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded in 1740. Fielding found Richardson’s tone so self-serving and moralistic, he was moved to pen a scathing satire of Richardson’s novel. An Apology for the LIfe of Mrs. Shamela Andrews (1741) was published anonymously, but is accepted as Fielding’s work. He followed up with the comic romance of Pamela’s brother in The History and Adventures of Joseph Andrews (1742). Both novels were quite successful.

Fielding, as many know, also had a very successful career as magistrate, being, for example, co-founder of London’s first police force, the Bow Street Runners. But he never stopped writing. He was a prolific writer of political pamphlets. Vehemently anti-Stuart, Fielding wrote for the burlesque Jacobite Journal (1747-1748) as a response to the Jacobite uprising of 1745. That event would later serve as the backdrop for The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling (1749). It was with this novel that Fielding made his greatest contribution to literature: this picaresque tale blends elements of the mock epic and comic romance, but it also introduces the omniscient narrator.

Meanwhile the novel’s protagonist, Tom Jones, is an ordinary person, a sort of modern-day everyman. With the figure of Tom Jones, Fielding made the novel accessible and interesting to a whole new middle-class reading public. It’s no surprise, then, that a copy of Tom Jones found its way to the bookshelf of the poor Dickens household when Charles was a boy.

Fielding’s Impact on the Victorian Novel

While Richardson is credited with originating the psychological realism so prevalent today, Fielding was the inventor of a new narrative voice that vastly influenced Victorian writers from William Makepeace Thackeray to Charles Dickens. Indeed, Dickens owes quite a debt to Fielding. Dickens’ first several novels were picaresques (novels of short episodes), a style he’d picked up from the books of his childhood–namely Arabian Nights, Don Quixote, and Tom Jones. Dickens would also incorporate elements of the mock epic and the comic romance in his stories.

Dickens also followed in Fielding’s footsteps by using fiction to openly address political and social issues. Fielding made literature more egalitarian; while the novel had previously focused on members of the upper classes and their lives, Fielding opened up the genre. Dickens furthered that work with tales like Oliver Twist and A Christmas Carol.

Fielding’s novels surely left a lasting impression, influencing Dickens for a lifetime. It’s no wonder that Dickens chose to name a child after Fielding. Where else do you see Fielding’s influence on Dickens’ writing? And which writer would you choose for a child’s namesake?