[Posted by Alanna Lynch ’14, for Prof. David Rosen’s course, “Modern Poetry”]

When I went to the Watkinson Library to research W.B. Yeats for my modern poetry class, I expected to find some particularly rare manuscript of one of his more famous works, or maybe a signed copy of one of his books. What I left with was an essay written by one of Trinity College’s own Professors from a Classics magazine published in 1945. That’s not to say that the Watkinson didn’t have what I was initially looking for, because it did. But I chose that particular article for a reason – for exactly how unexpected it was. Being written a former Trinity Professor for a magazine that focused on Greek and Roman studies, the essay gave a unique perspective to one of Yeats’ most well-known poems, “Sailing to Byzantium.”

James A. Notopoulos, the essay’s author, taught at Trinity College from 1936 until his death 1967, and was a member of the Classics Department as well as the Hobart Professor of Classical Languages. The Classical Journal, an academic journal published by the Classical Association of the Middle West and the South (an organization founded at the University of Chicago in 1905) since 1905, featured his article in November, 1945. The Classical Journal typically contains articles on Greek and Latin literature, language, and studies in general, in addition to book reviews.

The fact that an article could be written about a piece of modernist poetry by a classics professor and subsequently published in a journal devoted to Classical studies speaks a lot to how the poem was received. The article was published almost two decades after “Sailing to Byzantium” was written and nearly a decade after the author’s death – this speaks to how influential Yeats was, that his works continued to be relevant to those outside the world of literature years after they were published. It also shows Yeats’ strong relation to his history and his influences; Yeats had a tendency to focus on mythological and biblical subjects, often tying what he experienced in the modern world with the past. His connections to this time period were not only recognized, but studied by experts of the Classics and considered important enough to impact the field of Greek and Latin studies.

The article itself contains several passages written entirely in different languages, one of which is in Latin, the other what I believe is ancient Greek. Although the article has many notes attached to the end, no translations are offered, only references to the works from which to quotes were taken. Clearly the article was meant to be read only by those that studied those languages and the books the passages were quoted from. This points to an attitude of exclusivity that was common among modernist poets – i.e. that their poetry should be read only by well-educated people. While it may be that Notopoulos didn’t offer any translation because he presumed that readers of The Classical Journal would be familiar with the classical languages, it is also possible that this trend of exclusivity in modern poetry bled into other fields as well. Ironically, Yeats was not nearly as obscure in his poetry as other modernists, like Eliot and Pound, and (as far as I can remember) wrote his poems completely in English.

The article written by Notopoulos begins by stating that “Sailing to Byzantium” is a “note-worthy” Platonic lyric. He cites Yeats’ friendship with Stephen Mackenna (a translator of Plotinus and noted prose-writer) and interest in both Plato and Plotinus as giving the author inspiration for the poem. When Notopoulos speaks of a “platonic mood” or “platonic lyric” what he means is that Yeats is drawing on the Platonic theory of forms. Plato believed that the reality humans perceive is not in fact that true reality – that what we experience in our daily lives are only copies of the true or ideal forms that exist elsewhere. Everything in the world is only a copy of these true forms, and Plato’s ultimate desire is to reach the plane of ideal forms, which are both eternal and perfect.  Notopoulos argues that when Yeats speaks of “the artifice of eternity,” what he means is the world of ideal forms described by Plato. Notopoulos then goes on to described what might consist of Yeats’ ideal world, drawing on experiences Yeats wrote about in his travels to Italy at the end of his life.

The article that I found at the Watkinson offers interesting insight into not only Yeats’ poetry, but the general impact it had on other areas of study. Notopoulos uses his knowledge of Greek and Roman studies to develop a different interpretation of “Sailing to Byzantium.” He reflects both on how Yeats was influenced by Byzantine art and how he interpreted it. My favorite aspect of the article, however, was the conclusion Notopoulos came to at the end of his essay with a quote from Percy Bysshe Shelley; that “‘Poets… are a very chameleonic race; they take the color not only of what they feed on, but of the very leaves under which they pass.’”

[Posted by Amanda Daddona, a graduate student in American Studies at Trinity, for AMST 838: America Collects Itself: From Colony to Empire]

A Dancing Companion:  Thomas Hillgrove’s Practical Guide to Social Dance in America

Tucked away in the stacks of the Watkinson is a small dance manual bound in powder-pink boards, the front of which is beautifully illustrated with the image of a young woman with loose, flowing hair in a voluminous dress and delicate ribboned shoes.  The decorative script on the front cover bears the title:  Hillgrove’s Ball Room Guide and Practical Dancer.  The manual, written by the dance instructor Thomas Hillgrove, was first published in New York in 1863, though this particular version was printed in 1864, with another to follow in 1869.  The primary purpose of the book, according to Hillgrove’s note in the beginning pages, was to offer uniform instruction in the proper execution of dances, and to promote general interest and enjoyment of dancing.

The book opens with a more detailed summary of the material covered:  “A Complete Practical Guide to the Art of Dancing, Containing Descriptions of All Fashionable and Approved Dances, Full Directions for Calling the Figures, the Amount of Music Required, Hints on Etiquette, the Toilet, Etc.” The manual is divided into six parts, each of which begins with a detailed illustration of men and women in full ball dress.  In general, the majority of the book is illustrated with figures—either representations of men and women, or x’s and o’s—to facilitate the reader’s visualization and comprehension of each dance step.  The six parts cover a range of material, from proper dress and etiquette in the ballroom, to instructions for execution of steps, to proper procedures for planning balls and private dances.

The first part of the book is devoted to proper dress, deportment, and etiquette.  According to Hillgrove, a woman should wear colors that are complimentary to her complexion, and dresses should be an appropriate length to avoid tripping on hems.  He also recommends wearing only a simple flower in the hair, if a lady should choose to adorn her head.  Introductions are not necessary unless the couple believes they will meet again outside of the ball room, in which case gentlemen are always introduced to ladies, and younger people are introduced to their elders, and not the other way around in either instance.  Other instructions regarding ball room etiquette contain a hint of humor; in particular, Hillgrove warns that “the practice of chewing tobacco and spitting on the floor, is not only nauseous to ladies, but is injurious to their dresses,” and for the more clumsy dancers, “if you cannot waltz gracefully, do not attempt to waltz at all.”  The first part ends with a discussion of ballroom shape, type of floor, and music, as well as a description of proper etiquette for the supper room.

The second part addresses rudiments of dancing, such as positioning of the head, chest, arms, back, and legs, as well as how and when to bow and courtesy to a partner. Hillgrove considers the bow and courtesy to be “the most important rudiments of juvenile education; a proper knowledge of them being indispensable,” and so describes the method for men and women to greet one another, not just on the dance floor, but in passing, as well. In general, Hillgrove states that there should be harmony at all times when dancing, among all parts of the body.  In regard to the position of the feet, Hillgrove provides several illustrations of proper placement, which are—quite interestingly—very similar to the first through fifth positions of the feet in ballet.  The chapter ends with a discussion of strengthening exercises that are also practiced in ballet:  plies and battements.

The following four segments of the book are devoted to instruction on figures, or steps, in all the major dances of the time, the most popular of which was the quadrille.  Hillgrove speculates that the quadrille was so popular because it was a social dance that allowed for conversation, as well as frequent changing of partners.  The dance consisted of five parts and was danced by sets of four women and four gentlemen who all had appointed places within their set.  As it was the most widely performed dance, there were many variations, which Hillgrove describes in detail.  In addition to the illustrated instructions on how to execute the figures, Hillgrove also made note of musical cues that dancers should follow in order to properly perform the dances.

After the lengthy segment on the quadrille and all of its variations, Hillgrove moves on to the waltz.  He begins with an assessment of a good waltz dancer, who should always keep good posture, handle his or her partner with ease and grace, avoid colliding with other couples on the floor, and “dance naturally and with no artificiality.”  As the waltz and other “round dances” were performed with only one partner, Hillgrove described the proper hand placement for both the gentleman and the lady, and encouraged dancers to maintain an appropriate amount of space between them.  The book continues with a description of waltz variations, such as La Czarine, the Russian Waltz, and the Hop Waltz, and provides some background and historical information on where and how the variations began.  He continues with the polka and other international dances, and ends the fifth segment with a rather disparaging commentary on country dances, which were then considered “rude” and “inferior in the light of modern dancing.”  Country dances, in Hillgrove’s opinion, were wild and raucous.

The book concludes with Hillgrove’s observations regarding proper arrangement for musical instruments.  For example, if only one instrument is needed, it should be a violin.  If not a violin, it should be a pianoforte.  If two instruments are needed, the most desirable combination was a violin and pianoforte; if that could not be arranged, then a harp and violin, or a violin and violincello.  He continues this list until the number of instruments is quite large, and says that he has surmised these are the best instrument combinations based on the reaction of people at balls and soirees. Hillgrove also discusses the proper procedure for hosting a dance or soiree, which includes hiring a room, musicians, and doorkeepers, as well as making arrangements for advertisements, ticket sales, invitations, and proper maintenance of all expenditures and receipts.

Thomas Hillgrove’s Practical Guide to the Art of Dancing provides the modern reader with a glimpse into the very structured world of ballroom dance, and also gives an indication of the prevalence and importance of dance in society.  It is an informative, beautifully illustrated, and incredibly entertaining book that has been useful for several researchers working on dance history.  This manual, and others like them, are not only fun to read, but they also provide scholars with a way to delve more deeply into the beginnings of social dancing in America.

[Posted by Noelle Beach, Assistant Director of Annual Giving at Trinity College]

Did you know that the Watkinson Library has wedding invitations from alumni that are almost 100 years old?  I didn’t.  In fact, I didn’t know that the College even archived these items until recently when I was doing research in the alumni archives for The World of Rare Books class taught by Richard Ring.  The alumni archives are housed in row after row of dark metal filing cabinets in the labyrinthine basement of the library, and are an immense collection of biographical data on thousands of Trinity College alumni from the 19^th and 20^th centuries.

The collection was started in 1910 by Edgar Francis Waterman `98 who was the treasurer and a trustee of the College – that’s class of 1898 in case you didn’t catch it.  Waterman’s alumni archive was modeled on a similar Harvard initiative, and his goal was to highlight and publish distinction that Trinity alumni have brought to the College.  Throughout the course of the project and in the years leading up to WWI, Waterman and his team reached out to over 1,700 alumni.

They also issued detailed surveys, wrote letters, and collected images.  Their success in obtaining information was remarkable, especially considering that they did not have the pervasive system of electronic communication that we enjoy today.  Waterman was able to receive responses from at least 80% of contacted alumni, and also collected portraits from 60% of the group.  All of this information was compiled into the alumni archives and since 1972 have been available to the Trinity community.

Now let’s step back for a minute, and I will explain how I wound up spending the last two nights pouring over faded newspaper clippings, carbon copy letters, and trying to decipher handwriting that was written 80 years ago.  My original intention was to do research on a ten-page typed paper on the Trinity College lemon squeezer that was written over 60 years ago.  For those of you who don’t know, the “passing of the lemon squeezer” is a renowned tradition at Trinity, which started in 1857 when a senior named William Niles gave a wooden lemon squeezer to the Class of 1859 to acknowledge their academic achievements and moral character.  For the past 155 years the squeezer has been passed down from class to class, making a ceremonial appearance at each year’s Commencement.  While I found the lemon squeezer paper quite interesting, what intrigued me even more was its author Robert Morris, Class of 1916.  These curiosities lead me to the alumni archive, and searching for an individual’s folder that had been sitting in a filing cabinet for longer than I have been alive.

After spending several hours reading through the impressive collection of material that Trinity has retained about Robert Morris, he started to come alive to me as both a model undergraduate and alumni.  Morris was a Hartford native who entered Trinity in 1912.  While he was a student Morris played on the varsity football and track teams, sang with the Glee club, was class president, and also a member of the fraternity Alpha Chi Rho.  He graduated from Trinity in 1916 (B.S), and returned the following year to coach football and pursue a graduate degree.

Morris’s involvement with Trinity continued well past his years as a student.  He served on the Board of Trustees for 22 years, the Board of Fellows for 13 years, and was a class secretary for the alumni magazine, The Reporter, for 53 years!  Morris was also involved in the Athletic Council, Trinity Club of Hartford, and was very influential in the creation of the Austin Arts Center in 1965.  To recognize all of his engagement with Trinity, Morris was presented with an honorary Doctor of Law degree in 1965 and the Eigenbrodt trophy in 1949.  The Eigenbrodt trophy is still awarded annually for service to the College.

In addition to highlighting all of Robert Morris’s achievements, his alumni archive folder contained ephemera items such as a copy of his wedding invitation, handwritten correspondence to college officials, and multiple newspaper clippings where he was mentioned.

The folder also included the postcard Morris sent to Alumni Relations in 1947 with handwritten class notes scribbled on the back, and carbon copies of letters he received thanking Morris for his involvement on the Reunion committee.  The reason these items were fascinating to me is because I currently work in Development as a member of the Trinity College Fund.  Although many decades have passed since Robert Morris was a class agent, I feel a connection to him, because we still send out similar thank you letters, and other members of our team work on collecting class notes.  (However, we don’t use postcards anymore!)  The opportunity to see Development- related correspondence with alumni from over half a century ago has provided me great perspective in my current job, as well as an appreciation of the depth of the tradition of engaging alumni over the years.

I was able to access this comprehensive collection of biographical data on Robert Morris thanks to the alumni archive initiative that Edgar Francis Waterman started in 1910, and due to the fact that the Watkinson Library has kept and organized material that might otherwise be discarded.  I encourage anyone who works with our alumni to take advantage of the wealth of knowledge and research that we have available to us in the Archives.  And I would also like to thank (posthumously) Robert Seymour Morris, Class of 1916, for his years of service and dedication to an institution that has touched the lives of so many individuals.  It has been a pleasure reading about all he did for Trinity.

[Posted by Erika Jenns, Indiana University ’13]

A book’s history is comprised of more than an author’s thoughts put down on a page; it extends to and is largely dependent on the reader.  The importance of the reader’s experience with the book lies in the finer details: the coffee stains, the hand-written notes, and the tiny remnants of life left between pages.  A reader desires a relationship with the text, and as in any other relationship, he or she will inevitably leave pieces of himself or herself behind.

After brief encounters with 71 of Lydia Sigourney’s published works, it pains me to come across a book that appears never to have indulged in such a wonderful affair.  Was there no reader to connect with the text?  Did it sit idle on a bookstore shelf waiting to be purchased? How can it be that this text does not bear a single mark of understanding, confusion, enlightenment, or love?  Luckily, I have stumbled across scribbled notes and children’s drawings more often than not, or at least often enough to feed my desire for proof of personal relationships with Sigourney’s texts.

Evidence of one such relationship can be seen in a copy of Zinzendorff, and Other Poems. A needlework cross, backed in satin ribbon is inserted between the pages of a poem titled “The Dead Horseman.”  The initials “IHS” grace the top of the piece and represent the Christogram, an abbreviation for Jesus Christ.   It is likely that it was used as a bookmark and was created by the young woman whose name can be found in an inscription on the first title page, “Miss Catherine Bueno [?] from H. P. J.”

Several of Sigourney’s books have similarly personal pieces nestled between their pages.  One example is a copy of Sketch of Connecticut, Forty Years Since. A letter has been taped into the gutter of the front endpapers, and despite its crumbling appearance, it illustrates the personal relationship that Sigourney had with the text and the woman to whom she addressed the letter.

“Tuesday, Dec 13^th 1831,

My Dear Miss Woodbridge,

Though I am not authorized to claim a promise from you to aid us on the day of our Fair, yet I have continued to trust your goodness for a favorable result to my solicitations.  Feeling that you and your Sisters can scarcely have recovered from the fatigue of your great exertions for the poor Mohegans [?], we would request nothing but the “light of your countenance,” at our sale-tables, on Tuesday next, from 2 in the afternoon, through the evening.  Should you be able to gratify us, it would give us all pleasure to see you at Mrs. Dr. Lee’s tomorrow evening at seven, where a few ladies meet to consult about arrangements for the Fair, particularly respecting the decoration of the Hall where it will be held, with greens, in honour of the approaching Christmas.

with love to your sisters, -yours affectionately,  L. H. Sigourney”

A copy of Sigourney’s Sketches, also contains some pasted in notes.  Within the essay “The Family Portraits,” in the gutter of pages 128 and 129, there is a pasted in note.  It elaborates on the relationships between the people described in the essay including, her husband, Charles Sigourney.  Charles was involved in the founding of Trinity College.  He was the first secretary of the Trinity Trustees.

“Mary Ronchon, granddaughter of John Beauchamp, (pronounced in the French, not the English manner,) was the grandmother of Charles Sigourney, one of the original Trustees of the College and Mrs. Sigourney’s husband.  John Beauchamp removed with his family from Boston to Hartford, where he died Nov. 14, 1740, in his 88^th year.  One of his daughters was mother of John Laurence, Treasurer of Connecticut 1769-1789, who was greatgrand-father of William Roderick Laurence, of 1856, who gave to the college the portrait of Bp. Berkley copied by him from the picture in Yale College, and also gave a collection of coins and one of autographs.  Another daughter of John Beauchamp was wife of John Michael Chenevard, and ancestors of John Chenevard Comstock of the class of 1838.  Charles S. Hoadly.”

Relationships with Sigourney’s texts were not reserved for adults; in an 1844 copy of Sigourney’s Select Poems, a child’s drawing has been left behind.  It resides within the pages of her poem “The Volunteer” and depicts a cracked tombstone.  The inscription on the tombstone reads, “Elizabeth ghter [sic] of Joshua & Sar7 [sic] Chandie died March 11^th 1758 in her 3^rd year.”  The drawing has been made on the verso of a small slip of paper that came from the A. F. Wood Apothecary in New Haven, Connecticut.

Evidence of a more sentimental bond can be found in a copy of Sigourney’s Evening Readings in History. This copy is dedicated to her son Andrew.  The inscription reads, “Little Andrew from his Mama.”  Andrew was Sigourney’s only son, and one of only two children that survived from infancy.

While there are many more books in the Watkinson’s collection of Sigourney’s works with inscriptions, annotations, and various tidbits of reader’s lives, the five instances described above provide a glance into the secret lives hidden behind gold stamped covers and between roughly cut pages.  These descriptions are proof that there is more to a text than what the author puts on paper and sends to print; a reader’s relationship with a text is just as influential in the journey it takes.

It seems that Lydia Sigourney’s destiny had always been to teach; whether in person or through her writing, her life followed an instructive path from her youth.  As a child, she often “played school with her dolls ‘reproving their faults, stimulating them to excellence, and enforcing a variety of moral obligations’ “ (DeLong 36).  She continued to teach into early adulthood and to employ didactic tactics in her writing, much of which was aimed at a young audience and carried messages of conduct, religion, and morals.  Five of Sigourney’s books containing such messages are described below.  These five, however, do not comprise an all-inclusive list; many more of her books contain similar messages aimed at children and adults alike.

Her blatantly instructive book, How to Be Happy, provides a gender-neutral formula for success and happiness in life that carries many messages similar to those conveyed in her books for boys and girls.  She illustrates the method of proper treatment for a variety of individuals, including one’s parents, siblings, and elders.

Sigourney’s writing for boys was different than most of the popular literature written for them at the time.  It demonstrated a need for boys to become men with “a home-centered value system that endorsed masculine self-sacrifice and social obligation” (Parille 5).  In her book, The Boy’s Reading Book; in Prose and Poetry, for Schools, the passage titled “Good Manners” outlines the benefits of proper behavior and the need for it.  She also says that a man without manners is “an offense to the Almighty,” and good manners “must be worn as daily apparel, not as a suit for company” (Sigourney, The Boy’s Reading 114-115).

In The Girl’s Reading-Book; in Prose and Poetry. For Schools, Sigourney includes passages titled “Order,” “The Good Daughter,” and “Procrastination.”  In the passage entitled “Order,” emphasis is placed on the necessity of having a proper place for things, and life without order is compared to having “wise laws, and paying no regard to them” (Sigourney, The Girl’s Reading 19).   She explains that if these bad habits are established as a child, they will carry on into adulthood and cause irreparable damage to one’s reputation and temperament.  “Procrastination,” a poem, warns of the repercussions of idle waiting.  Sigourney describes various aspects of nature, such as the bird in flight or the running stream, and explains to the reader that should you ask such things to stop and wait, they would answer, “’A future day is not our own’” (181).  Her final warning is that one must do “what thy duty dictates, do” and “delay no longer” for fear that death is upon us at each moment in our lives.

Letters to Young Ladies and Letters to Mothers include similar messages, catered to women of the age group indicated by each title.  In Letters to Young Ladies, Sigourney discusses the upbringing of young women.  Some of the contents include: “Manners and Accomplishments,” “Friendship,” and “Self-Control.”  In the section titled “Manners and Accomplishments,” she argues that manners are more important than things like dress or beauty because manners are “more permanent, and more certain in their results” (Sigourney, Letters to Young 105). In Letters to Mothers, some of the contents include: “Idiom of Character,” “Duty to the Community,” and “Hospitality.”  In the passage “Duty to the Community,” Sigourney states that she feels “peculiar solicitude with regard to the manner in which our daughters are reared. … they are emphatically our representatives” (Letters to Mothers 170).  Throughout the passage, she describes the importance of education for girls and the need for their mothers to be careful not to allow their daughters to indulge in “elaborate dress, and fashionable parties.”

In addition to the didactic endeavors of the five books mentioned previously, Sigourney worked to deliver her messages in person as a teacher in both Norwich and Hartford, Connecticut.  After coming to Hartford to stay with the Wadsworth family, Daniel Wadsworth suggested that she start a school for girls in his mother’s home.  One of Sigourney’s students was a young deaf girl, Alice Cogswell.  Alice’s family worked hard to ensure that her life was as normal and fulfilling as possible despite her handicap, and Sigourney did the same.  She worked closely with Alice to teach her to read and write and was the first person in the United States to teach a prelingually deafened child to read and write.  While she was working with Alice, Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet, a recent graduate from Andover seminary school, was working with Laurent Clerc, a deaf Frenchman, to learn sign language.  In 1817, Gallaudet returned to the United States with his new knowledge and Clerc as his partner.  Together they opened the first school for the deaf in the U.S.; it was located in Hartford.  It has been argued, “that these two men would never have been called on to play the roles they did without the earlier and necessary contributions of Lydia Huntley Sigourney” (Sayers and Gates 369).

Years after her work with Alice and the opening of the school, Sigourney gave Gallaudet a signed copy of her book, Memoir of Mrs. Hooker, in 1841. The role of these three individuals, and especially of Lydia Sigourney, changed the opportunities available for deaf people in the United States.  Her dedication to teaching and pure-minded motives allowed her to see past Alice’s handicap and to provide her with a challenging education.  As with her childhood dolls, Sigourney sought to stimulate each of her students to excellence despite their differences.

[Posted by Erika Jenns, Indiana University ’13]

Works Cited

Parille, Ken. “What Our Boys Are Reading.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 33.1 (2008): 4-25. PDF file.

Sayers, Edna Edith and Diana Gates. “Lydia Huntley Sigourney and the Beginnings of American Deaf Education in Hartford: It Takes a Village.”  Sign Language Studies, 8.4, (2008): 369-411. PDF file.

Sigourney, Lydia H. The Boy’s Reading Book; in Prose and Poetry, for Schools. New York: J. Orville Taylor, 1839. Print.

—. The Girl’s Reading-Book; in Prose and Poetry. For Schools. New York: J. Orville Taylor, 1839. Print.

—. Letters to Young Ladies. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1837. Print.

—.  Letters to Mothers. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1839. Print.

[Posted by Erika Jenns, Indiana University ’13, who is performing an internship in the Watkinson by contributing to this blog about our collection of Sigourney items.]

Nestled between Harriet Beecher Stowe and Henry Miller on compact shelves at the Watkinson, I found Lydia H. Sigourney’s impressive array of published works awaiting me, in modest, patient rows.

The gilt bindings in various colors require the space of five shelves, and this is only half the collection.  As I labored over 135 “Sigourney” entries in the Watkinson catalogue, pulling each item from the shelves, I began to ponder the life of a book living down beneath the Watkinson reading room, pressed so close to fellows or strangers.  I’m not sure which would be more agreeable, to be sandwiched between sister and brother editions, next to a distant cousin with a different name, or cozied up with an individual created by another pen entirely.

The majority of Sigourney’s books have been assigned spaces next to family members.  Her first book, Moral Pieces, was published in 1815, and the three editions, all in a row, show the signs of aging.  Two reside in boxes to prevent the loss of their covers or delicate pieces of their spines, and while the hinges of the third remain intact, the beautiful gilded roses on the spine have begun to disappear.  Other titles boast their youthfulness with their well-intact, heavily gold-stamped spines shining out from between some of their less fortunate family members.  I have yet to uncover the details of their lives.

The mother of these creations, Lydia Howard Huntley Sigourney, was born in Norwich, Connecticut on September 1, 1791.  In 1811 she and her friend, Nancy Maria Hyde, opened a school for girls, but it closed soon after when Hyde became ill.  In 1814, Sigourney moved to Hartford and established another school for girls in the home of Daniel Wadsworth.  Wadsworth later arranged for the publication of Moral Pieces.  Four years later, she married Charles Sigourney.  He did not support her ambitions as a writer, so she began to publish her works anonymously.  She often donated the profits from her publications to various organizations, such as, “the temperance movement, peace societies, and missionary groups,” but as her husband’s financial situation deteriorated, Sigourney began publishing under her own name again.  Her profits became the source of the family income.

Sigourney was “one of the first women in the United States to establish a successful and remunerative career as a writer.”  She published 67 books in her lifetime, edited The Religious Souvenir from 1839 to 1840, and “from 1839 to 1842, she was listed as an editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book, primarily for the prestige her name conferred on the journal.”  Sigourney died in her Hartford home in 1865, and her autobiography, Letters of Life, was published a year later.

[Posted by Taylor Wikins (’14), a student in Zak Sitter’s English course, “1816: A Romantic Microcosm”]

The Naval Monument, containing official and other accounts of all the battles fought between the Navies of the United States and Great Britain was written by Abel Bowen and published by George Clark in 1836 in Boston, Massachusetts.  This work is a direct account for all reports between the United States and Great Britain navy during the War of 1812.  Its written by a publisher, engraver and author named Abel Bowen who lacks the military experience one would need to write a military work.  As I read these accounts, a question continued to arise in my mind, how could an author publish and write a work of which he had no previous experience in the field?  It made little sense to me but being that the work had little to no narrative made me understand the circumstances more.

In the beginning of the work, we are given a preface that in my opinion was an unrealistic view into the lives of the soldiers in the Navy.  Bowen portrays the Navy in a very idealistic way, which differed greatly from the rest of the text. Following the preface the naval monument begins with direct accounts between officers in both the United States and Great Britain navies. These accounts include conversations about different tactics that the naval army would participate in, live accounts of battles with the British and conversations between captains.  These reports gave the audience a chance to truly connect with the soldiers who were in battle.  In addition to the United States accounts, the book contains some reports from the British naval force. These British reports differ greatly from the US reports in that they were increasingly emotional and formal.  The US accounts were more realistic and genuine, giving its audience a first person perspective.

The book itself was very fragile and brittle when I first looked at it in the Watkinson.  The cover of the book was a simple brown face with no text on it, the spine of the book looked like the spine of an encyclopedia.  Covered with fine gold designs and text that stated the title and publication date of the work.  The pages of the book were damaged and stained to a point where some were falling out of the book, causing me to read it with great care.  Inside the book contained many pictures of the various boats used in naval battles during 1812-1815.  It was interesting to see a visual of some of the boats and scenes of battles in this work.

This book became of particular interest to me because I was drawn to the detailed description of the battles.  I found it interesting that these accounts were recorded almost down to the minute.  There were many instances where this work would take the reader from a scene on a boat involving gunfire to then figuring out how to resolve the situation.  This text was enticing to read while also being able to get an inner look at naval life in war during 1812.

[Posted by Brandon T. Lewis (’13), a student in Zak Sitter’s English course, “1816: A Romantic Microcosm”]

J. M. Richardson and J. Ridgway published Brief remarks on the slavery registry bill: and upon a report of the African Institution, recommending that measure, in 1816 in London, England. The item was published in a very large blue book with a spine that may have been white when first published, but is now a tan-brown color due to its age. There are other published items in the book, most of them discussing religious persecution of Protestants occurring at the time. The book containing these items, including the one I selected, is called a “pamphlet”. The pamphlet shows considerable wear indicative of its age; the top and bottom of the spine have broken off, exposing the bindings that hold all of the documents together. There is a title on the spine of the pamphlet, reading “Tracts on Protestant…” but the end of the title has faded and is incomprehensible. The book’s cover has fragile attachment to the pamphlet. The edges of the pages inside the pamphlet are very frayed, appearing to be broken and chipped. While there are some stains, the pages themselves are in relatively good condition, even though it was clear that I needed care when navigating the book.

There is no author specified for the piece, but it can be assumed that the author had access to the meeting of Parliament. The document is about the introduction of a bill to the House of Commons that would prevent illegal trading of slaves in the British colonies. The bill was introduced by William Wilberforce, considered a leader of the movement to stop the trading of slaves in the British Empire. The bill was created as a measure to stop illegal slave trading in outside territories, particularly Jamaica. In 1807, Parliament passed the Slave Trade Act, which made the slave trade illegal throughout the British Empire. However, there was evidence that West Indian countries were still participating in the slave trade, hence the need for a slave registry. It is important to note that only the trading of slaves was deemed illegal in the Empire. Slavery itself would not be illegal until 1833, with the passing of the Slavery Abolition Act.

Lord Castlereagh, also known as Robert Stewart, was Leader of the House of Commons and noted the significance the bill would have. He believed that the passing of the bill would ultimately lead to the abolition of the slave trade altogether, something that he supported wholeheartedly. Lord Castlereagh also presented the opposition to the bill, coming from Jamaica. Their parliament believed that the new law proposed would violate and infringe on their constitutional rights.

What drew me to this item was the chance to learn about how slavery was enacted, or abolished, in countries others than the United States, which my knowledge was primarily limited to. A lot of what I learned from the “brief remarks” came from the author’s own commentary on the bill. In his analysis of Lord Castlereagh’s comments, he said, “every prudent man would deprecate the unnecessary introduction of a question which separated this country the United States of America”. The author also expressed concern amongst the government that the British Empire could risk losing the West Indian colonies if they pushed more rules and regulations on them. The author seemed to believe that passing the bill without having sufficient enough evidence would be detrimental due to the backlash it would. The author note that, despite the general weakness of West Indian colonies in terms of military forces, it would be foolish of the government to underestimate their abilities to try to claim independence. Referencing the United States once again, the author poses the possibility of the United States attempting to gain control of Jamaica, in an effort to strengthen their naval power.

Given the year of this item’s publication, I found the comment very indicative of the concerns Britain had over the stability of its empire. Forty years prior, the United States of America succeeded from the empire because they believed the empire was imposing intolerable rules and tariffs on them. The quote I reference in particular carries a hint of lingering ire regarding Britain’s loss in the American Revolution. It also speaks to the concerns of at least some that the war with United States was the beginning of a gradual decline in the Empire’s global power. It was a fear so strong that losing Caribbean colonies would be catastrophic enough to have Parliament reconsidering exerting its power over them.

While the document itself is specifically about a single event, it goes to show how one piece of literature can be truly indicative of a country’s past, present, and future, as mine was.

[Posted by Jackie Pennell (’14) a student in Zak Sitter’s English course, “1816: A Romantic Microcosm”]

When I was looking over the very long list of publications from the year 1816, I was unsure of what book to study. I decided that Crystalina, A Fairy Tale seemed an interesting choice because I have always enjoyed fairytale stories. When I went to the Watkinson to examine the book, I was not sure of what to expect. I was handed a large book binding that contained an envelope with the actual book inside.

Crystalina has a blue, cardboard binding which is as worn as its pages. I found it in a larger envelope because the front cover of the book is completely detached. Upon inspecting the pages of the book, Rick Ring informed me that the book is comprised of full and half sheets of paper. The half sheets indicate that Crystalina was not as expensive to print as a book printed entirely on full sheets of paper.

When I was examining the cover page, I discovered that Crystalina, A Fairy tale by an American, was published in New York by George F. Hopkins in 1816. I was surprised that the author of Crystalina, John Milton Harney, is not mentioned on the cover page. All that is mentioned about Harney on the title page is that he is American. The preface of the narrative poem also mentions that John Milton Harney is a “native of the United States”.

The preface is interesting because it informs the reader of the origins of the poem along with Harney’s apprehension in publishing Crystalina. It is written in third person, so it is unclear whether Harney wrote it himself. However, the reader may infer that Harney wrote the preface because it reveals his concerns that the American critic will receive his work with “proverbial indifference and even contempt”. The reader learns that Harney completed Crystalina in 1812, but decided not to publish the poem until 1816. From reading the preface, it is clear that the uncertainty Harney feels in publishing Crystalina might be the reason why he is not specifically mentioned as the author in the published book. Harney finally published the poem placing faith in the “generosity, liberality, and justice of (Harney’s) fellow countrymen” that they might receive the poem well.

The poem consists of six Cantos and as the preface states, it is “founded chiefly, on the superstitions of the highlanders of Scotland”. The plot of the poem is typical of a classic fairy tale story. The hero of the story is a gallant knight named Rinaldo who must prove himself worthy to marry the princess Crystalina.  When Rinaldo proves himself worthy by fighting in battle, he returns to find Crystalina gone. In the first canto, Rinaldo ventures to find a seer who reveals that Crystalina has been abducted. The rest of the poem follows Rinaldo on his quest to find and save Crystalina.

Crystalina is organized into lengthy stanzas and it is in iambic pentameter. The first stanza of the poem has a rhyme scheme of ABAB, but the rest of the first canto has an AABBCC…rhyme scheme. The literary style of the first canto reminds me slightly of Milton’s epic poetry. Like much of Milton’s poetry, there are several references to mythological figures such as Orestes, and Rinaldo compares himself to Tantalus.  There is also dialogue within the poem such as in the first canto when there is dialogue between the seer and Rinaldo.

After the six cantos, there is a separate short poem entitled “The Ecstacy”. The poem has three shorter stanzas; in the first stanza, the speaker of the poem is imploring nature to prevent disaster and hardship. In the second and third stanzas, the speaker asks nature to bring joy and happiness. The final short poem “The Ecstacy” is certainly a fitting ending for Harney’s happily-ever-after fairytale.