History of the Book 2024

Dickinson Blog for ENGL 222

The young and devout audience of Divine Songs for Children

December 22, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Divine Songs for Children, or more specifically, its full title Divine Songs Attempted in Easy Language For the Use of Children, reveals its intended audience plainly and immediately.

Printed by Archibald Loudon in 1812, Divine Songs is aimed at young, religious readers.  The context of the book is straightforward; it has a title page, twenty-eight hymns, and lastly the Ten Commandments.  There is nothing else.  The children who would have used this book are not interested in anything else, more information or filler is boring to most children.  One exception to this is illustrations.  There is only one illustration in the book (a frontispiece); it is small, only taking up about a third of the page.  Likely no other illustrations were added to keep production costs down, and the final price low as well.

Keeping in mind the intended audience, Divine Songs was likely not very expensive.  This is further supported by the modest craftsmanship of the book itself.  It is simply bound; no boards were used, it is only held together with stitching.  The text printed throughout the book was not done meticulously.  The margins are irregular.  On some pages, the text goes fully to the bottom of the page with no lower margin.  On others, the text starts immediately at the top.  The same inconsistency occurs with the size of the gutter.  Considering that Divine Songs was deliberately made like this for its audience, its uncomplicated craftsmanship likely allowed the price to be kept relatively low.  This way, the book could be realistically accessed by children.

The book is very small, measuring 10.25cm x 6.8cm x 0.2cm.  To visualize, when closed Divine Songs is a little shorter than the size of my hand.  I have not tried it myself, but I imagine any pocket that can fit my hand would very easily fit Divine Songs.  It is currently in a fragile state (212 years will do that to any boardless book), so I would not recommend anyone try it.  However, being pocket-sized would have applied itself well to a life of travel, perhaps back and forth between church and home?  

Hymns are songs meant to be sung in worship and are very commonly used during official services.  Divine Songs has twenty-eight hymns printed in it.  Some songs are more broad, such as “A general song of praise to God” and “Heaven and Hell.”  Others are a lot more specific and likely personal to a child, such as “Love between Brothers and Sisters.”  It has something for every occasion.  The book was very likely intended to be owned and read by a child and brought back and forth from home to church or school.  Hence the content and the small and easily portable size.

We know from the title that Divine Songs Attempted in Easy Language For the Use of Children was intended to be used by religious children.  But looking further at the author, Isaac Watts can give us a more specific understanding.  Isaac Watts was a protestant minister, born in England in 1674, he is sometimes known as the “father of English hymnody” (Watts).  Given that he is a very well-known protestant, the book was probably made for other protestants.  However, the Church of England did not approve of hymns until 1820 (Divine Songs was published in 1812), so Anglicans likely will not purchase the book (Hymn).

We have an idea of the type of person who would have owned Divine Songs.  Unfortunately, we do not have information on who this owner actually was.  There is a name written in the book, very likely the name of the owner, but it cannot be read with certainty.  I have talked more in-depth about Sarah in a previous blog post.

 

Works Cited

“Hymn.” Encyclopædia Britannica Online, Encyclopædia Britannica Inc, 2020.

“Watts, Isaac.” Encyclopædia Britannica Online, Encyclopædia Britannica Inc, 2020.

 

From Stains to Story: How the Disrepair of a Cookbook Became a Guide to Previous Ownership

December 20, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Cookbooks hold stories beyond simple annotations or dog-eared pages. Each stain holds a memory, each inscription is a recipe, and every modification is a history waiting to be uncovered. Anyone who cooks or bakes regularly is likely making changes or additions to their recipes, which calls for immediate and specific notations within the physical book. Dickinson’s edition of The Frugal Housewife by Lydia Maria Child is not an outlier. As a book in extreme disrepair and one where every page has a stain or note, this cookbook was well-loved.  

Child’s intended audience for this book is made explicit in its full title: The Frugal Housewife: Dedicated to Those Who Are Not Ashamed of Economy. The cookbook is intended for housewives in the mid-nineteenth century who are looking for cheap, easy, quick recipes and remedies. In other front matter, Child makes a note that this fourth edition includes an additional section titled “Hints to People of Moderate Fortune.” She states that her intentions for the book are “written from the same motive, viz: an honest and independent wish to be useful.” This book intends to be useful and frugal, evident in both the long title and additional note.  

This 1831 edition did, in fact, reach multiple frugal housewives. From what I can tell, I think the cookbook reached at least three different owners. The first owner is Mrs. Mary Webb Cady. She made many notes and additional recipes throughout the entirety of the cookbook, writing and stamping her name across much of the front matter. She was either very possessive of this book and the many additions she made, or she was simply ensuring that she never lost the book (Figure 2). A detailed internet search revealed a woman named Mary Webb who married Mr. Hiram Cady (Figure 1). While I cannot be certain that this Mary Cady is the same owner, her name and signatures line up, and the timeline would make sense, as she was born in 1806 in New York. Unfortunately, I cannot find much further information on her. Due to the era and societal norms, we can assume that Mrs. Cady was a housewife, and her many notes and additional recipes throughout the book show that she spent significant time cooking and baking.  

Figure 1: Marriage Note in the Cady Family Bible

Figure 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I assume another owner also possessed this cookbook after Mrs. Cady due to a separate handwriting and darker pencil used for some drawings and recipes. While most of the additions to the book are in the same handwriting and light-colored pencil, and the many recipes match with the handwriting of the signatures, there are a couple of signatures at the very back of the book in much darker, less discernable handwriting. This makes me assume that there was indeed a second owner of this edition of The Frugal  Housewife, but they either did not own the book for long or did not use it nearly as much as the previous owner due to their general lack of marginalia.  

Figure 3: Recipe on top of page is Mrs. Cady’s, Recipe on bottom of page is our unknown owner’s

In a discussion with Malinda Triller-Doran, an archivist and librarian at the Dickinson College Archives, I learned that this book’s passage to the Dickinson Archives is not fully clear, but it is assumed to be part of the large donation from Charles Coleman Sellers’s Library. Charles Coleman Sellers was a librarian and curator for Dickinson College on and off between 1949 and his death in 1980. Sellers was also an author and librarian at other institutions as well, and his biography in the Archives states, “Sellers is best known in the Dickinson community for his Dickinson College: A History, published in conjunction with the bicentennial celebration of the College in 1973.”

Figure 4: Image of Charles Coleman Sellers

Ms. Triller-Doran informed me that after he died in 1980, he donated his collection/personal library to Dickinson. It is presumed that The Frugal Housewife was one of these donated books based on the timeline it was donated and the general lack of information on its journey to Dickinson. Only two other cookbooks lie in the archives: The Cook’s Oracle and Housekeeper’s Manual by William Kitchiner (published 1830) and American Domestic Cookery, Formed on Principles of Economy, for the Use of Private Families by Maria Eliza Ketelby Rundell (published 1822), neither of which are recorded to be a part of Sellers’ donation. While The Frugal Housewife’s journey to Dickinson remains unclear, it continues to hold significant history and information about its previous adventures.  

This edition of The Frugal Housewife has not been rebound and is completely falling apart. Most of the pages are no longer tied or glued together, and the front and back covers have completely fallen off. It is now held together by a gentle string around the entirety of the book and must be untied to open and re-tied once the reader is done. This indicates that the book is either not used much anymore (as there is no reason to rebind it) or the disrepair has happened more recently than one would think. If it has not been rebound yet, we may be able to assume that it did not need to be rebound until quite recently. A book this old and well-used is expected to be run down, and the fact that it was owned by a librarian for the last century or so makes me assume that the reason for its current state of disrepair is that the librarians who have looked after it had not wanted to interfere in the history of the book itself. Rebinding it may have been frowned upon since it would hide the historicity of the book’s frequent use, which is made evident by its disrepair, or may have simply been too expensive. We can assume much about this edition of The Frugal Housewife by its disorder, stains, marginal notes, and added recipes. What many may view as ruin or destruction has only added to the value and intrigue this cookbook holds.  

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited 

“Brief Life History of Mary.” FamilySearch.Org, ancestors.familysearch.org/en/LD5F-34T/mary-webb-1806-1876. Accessed 1 Dec. 2024.  

“Charles Coleman Sellers (1903-1980).” Charles Coleman Sellers (1903-1980) | Dickinson College, archives.dickinson.edu/people/charles-coleman-sellers-1903-1980. Accessed 1 Dec. 2024.  

Triller-Doran, Malinda. Personal Interview. 26 November 2024. 

Audience: Intended Readers and Prior Owners of A Selection of One Hundred and Forty of the Most Favourite English, Scotch, Irish, and American Songs

December 20, 2024 / / 0 Comments

A Selection of One Hundred and Forty of the Most Favourite English, Scotch, Irish, and American Songs is no insignificant part of the early publishing world of Carlisle, PA, considering its connections to publisher Archibald Loudon. I’ve discussed Archibald Loudon and the physical book in-depth in previous blog posts, however, here I want to uncover the intended and actual readers of the book. (Here are links to the previous posts: 

Loudon was aware of current publishing trends (Fretz 64)—so, it’s not unreasonable to say that he might be able to provide insight into the wider reading audience of Carlisle. He dedicated himself, for example, to subjects like the arts, including theater, poetry, and song. He lived and worked during a time when the town was forming its initial artistic legacy. In fact, he likely wanted a stake in the already-rapid growth of Carlisle. Early Carlisle was a standout amongst the landscape of Pennsylvania, though you wouldn’t know it today. Historian Judith Ridner describes it as “a sizable and significant place” with urban features that were considered unique in the eighteenth century (2). It functioned as a “migration gateway” that grew into a bustling center for “divergent interests” (3), and there is something to be said about the fact that “divergent interests” describes Loudon’s publishing history perfectly. 

His writing, editing, and publishing cover a significant number of Carlisle histories and issues, especially white settler interactions with and violence against Native populations. (The Carlisle Indian Industrial School, a boarding school for Indigenous American children intent on erasing their cultural history as they grew into adulthood with a history of violent institutional tactics, was later founded in the nineteenth century.) Loudon extensively participated in Carlisle’s long history of literature recording the colonization of/expansion into Native American land. His Scottish immigrant family had personal violent conflict with local Indigenous peoples when first settling in the U.S. (Hunter). This further exemplifies Loudon’s personal, political, and business stakes in his publishing history. By publishing the work of a local poet, Isabella Oliver, Loudon demonstrated a proactive attempt at shaping the landscape of Carlisle’s creative arts.

 A Selection, then, is a venture into compiling songs relevant to him and his Scottish-American history, as well as representing the larger population of Carlisle. Early Carlisle has a deep history of Scottish and Irish immigrants settling in or near the town (Ridner 8-9). I have been unable to uncover much detail about the publication history or reasoning behind this particular book of Loudon’s—he never published other songbooks—but his wide variety of artistic publications speaks partially for itself. (I’m working under the speculation that Loudon had at least some small part in the selection of songs in A Selection, rather than republishing one other compilation. My blog post titled “Origins,” describes how I came to this conclusion.) Assuming the majority of his publications came from personal interest mixed with the intent of success, the focus on Scottish-American and Irish-American music fits neatly as an answer to the question of the book’s intended audience. Loudon likely knew that he could rely on the audience of the immigrant population of Pennsylvania. Ridner focuses intently on the intersecting cultural groups of historical Carlisle, investigating the ways that “similar regional affiliations linked settlement patterns and ethnic identity among the mid-Atlantic’s Euro-American colonists” (7). Loudon’s publication of A Selection is a prime example of appealing to cultural identities similar to his own, a group which made up a large portion of the Carlisle population during his time. They were one of the largest immigrant groups in the eighteenth century traveling to British North America, and by far the predominant ethnic group of early Carlisle (8). Loudon sought monetary and cultural success both by the advantage of belonging to this group, and by seeking to appeal to it. 

Beyond this community, however, he intended to introduce these artistic pursuits to the wider Carlisle and Pennsylvania colonist public. His consistent patronage of artists in Carlisle, particularly those of the same ethnic group, speaks clearly to this hypothesis. It’s a strong piece of evidence in support of the role he wanted to take on as what historian Eric Fretz calls an “early disseminator of culture” (Fretz 61), particularly Scots-Irish and Euro-American culture. Fretz holds a high opinion of Loudon, made clear by the credit he gives to his artistic and publishing dreams—and can also be read as insight into Loudon’s intended Pennsylvania audiences. Fretz’s admiration may resemble the respect given by other Carlisle citizens, publishers, and art-lovers at the time, despite his strictly local influence. However, I’m unable to find information on the life or cultural identity of Eric Fretz beyond his interest in Loudon, so this should be taken with a grain of salt. 

Ridner explains her desire to study the intricacies of Carlisle history as a way to provide insight into the larger history of American development through the micro-history of Carlisle development (3-4). Archibald Loudon serves a similar purpose for the history of Carlisle development—his micro-history is reflective of Carlisle publishing trends and colonial interests, from widespread perceptions of Indigenous communities to a high valuation of theater, poetry, and music, and trade. 

“Chas H.”

Though Carlisle’s early history paints a relatively clear picture of Loudon’s intended audience for A Collection, there’s a mystery remaining that I’m quite fond of: the names written on the inside covers of the Dickinson College Archives’ copy of the book. I’ve been stumbling through research, trying to discern the cursive letters of the surnames of the elusive “Chas. H” and “George W” that previously owned the book. (I’ve included images here of the signatures as they appear on the inside covers.) I’ve concentrated my online searching to Carlisle, PA, when researching the potential surnames for “Charles” and “George.” A notable lead I possessed in this search is George’s note of the year he acquired the book: 1838 (see second image). I’ve tried to put these results in conversation with the limited information I can glean from the alumni records of Dickinson College. While I haven’t found any definitive matches for the folks who wrote their names in the book, there are a couple alumni with name similarities. Charles Kuhn was a part of the class of 1802, but did not graduate, and there is no further information about him.

“George W” “his Book 1838” “song Book 1838”

As for the “George W” who owned the book in 1838, George W. Corner became a trustee of Dickinson College post-graduation, and was a part of the class of 1841 (Reed). Unfortunately, it’s impossible to say whether the book was donated by someone who attended the college or not, due to a lack of record on how it came to the Archives, and digging up family trees online has proven to be unproductive when the cursive letters are unclear. However, I did find something I previously missed: what looks like “1842” written in pencil, underneath “Chas. H.” The fragments found in this copy may not form a complete story, but they give hints at a timeline of the book’s ownership. The names and dates written inside are an indication that despite Loudon’s small area of influence, audiences of A Selection passed the little book around.

 

 

 

Bibliography:

 

A Selection of One Hundred and Forty of the Most Favourite English, Scotch, Irish, and American Songs. 1806. SC 398 87 S698.

Dickinson College Archives & Special Collections.

 

Fretz, Eric. “Archibald Loudon of Carlisle: Disseminator of Early American Culture.” Cumberland County History, vol. VII, no. 2.,

pp. 61-67. Cumberland County Historical Society.

 

Reed, George L. Alumni Record Dickinson College. Dickinson College, 1905.

 

​​Ridner, Judith. “Introduction.” A Town In-Between: Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and the Early Mid-Atlantic Interior, University of

Pennsylvania Press, 2010, pp. 1–11. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt3fhb4h.5. 

 

(Image Credits: taken by iPhone, by author, inside the Dickinson College Special Collections.)

Who Was the Modern Cook?

December 19, 2024 / / 0 Comments

French Cookery: The Modern Cook, by Charles Elme Francatelli, is a cookbook that was published in 1846. This book was the first of Francatelli’s four cookbooks. Francatelli was an important chef in London during this time. He was educated at the Parisian College of Cooking (Flantzer, 2018). Francatelli also served as the chef for Queen Victoria for about two years and was known for having a strong effect on the cooking community. I went more in-depth about Francatelli’s life, education, experiences, and influences in my past blog post. This specific book that I have been studying and researching is now in the possession of the Dickinson College Archives in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. In this blog post, I will go in-depth about who used this book and how it came to be a part of Dickinson’s Archives collection. I have written two prior blogs about the history and composition of this book that I would recommend reading along with this one (blog post 1 and blog post 2)!

French Cookery: The Modern Cook was primarily used by upper-middle-class families;  this was Francatelli’s intention. On the title page of the book, he specified it was “adapted, as well for the largest establishments as for the use of private families” (See Figure 1). The title page tells us that this book was meant for familial and restaurant use; however, it isn’t clear which class of people it was meant for. The actual recipes had to be examined to be able to answer, “Who used this book?”  Each recipe is of very high quality and includes expensive ingredients. Bishop uses a great example of the recipes for Lamb’s ears (Bishop, 2018). This book includes three separate recipes, all with expensive ingredients such as a full lamb, cayenne, parmesan, and veal. Because the ingredients used were difficult to obtain, those making these recipes needed the money and resources to access them. As I discussed in my previous post, Francatelli’s next two cookbooks were marketed toward lower-class families and the staff of the upper class. The intended purpose of those books was indicated in their titles: A Plain Cookery Book for the Working Class (1852) and The Cooks Guide and Housekeepers and Butlers Assistants (1861). His fourth cookbook was for confectionary foods and wasn’t marketed for a specific class of people. This book reached its intended audience; the recipes weren’t accessible to lower-class people as they couldn’t afford the ingredients.

This specific copy of French Cookery: The Modern Cook, had at least two owners. This book was donated to Dickinson College only five years after its publication; the first owner was Mrs. B. Stilingfleck. This name was an approximation by the Dickinson College archivists; her signature was included on the title page (see Figure 1). The signature has faded a bit, and there is an ink bleed over the last name. There was no information on her in the Dickinson College records or online. A few dogeared pages in the cookbook tell us this cookbook was used, including a traditional filet recipe and a tapioca pudding recipe (more information about this is in my first blog post, linked above). The second known owner was William Armstrong Graham. His name is on the gift plate inside the cover; he donated the book in 1851(see Figure 2). He was an alum of Dickinson College, class of 1844, and went on to study at the Princeton Theological School, eventually becoming a member of the clergy of the Presbyterian church (I found this information through the help of the archivists and “House Divided,” a Dickinson College resource about the civil war). Dickinson College at this time had two societies that were dedicated to conversations around literature, as well as gathering books (a lot of the material that makes up the Archives currently). Graham donated this copy to the Union Philosophical Society. John Fletcher Hurst, class of 1854, accepted this book into the Union Philosophical Society’s collection. Hurst, a member of the Union Philosophical Society, went to work in law for a while after graduation but ultimately became a Methodist Bishop and became the Bishop of Washington, DC. He is most notable for founding American University in Washington, DC (House Divided). I asked the archivists if there was any more information about Graham’s donation or if there was a record of more donations from him. Unfortunately, due to a fire in 1904 that burned down Denny Hall (an academic building at Dickinson College), most of the records from the Union Philosophical Society were lost; Denny Hall was where they stored all their records. Due to these two snafus, there is no information about Graham’s relation to the Union Philosophical Society or any other potential donations he may have given them.

The Archivists of Dickinson College who helped me examine this copy of French Cookery: The Modern Cook didn’t notice any repairs to this book. It doesn’t look like the book has been rebound. Seemingly, this is the original binding because of the broken binding (see Figure 3) and the gold-etched illustrations on the cover and spine that match the illustrations in the book (see Figures 3 and 4). As for repairs, all of the pages look consistent with one another, and none of them look as if they’ve been altered since their printing. The book was in a good enough condition when donated to not need repairs. Even now, the book is still in pretty good condition; it is separating from the spine, but all the pages are still readable with no significant damage (see Figure 5).

There are some unanswered questions about this copy of French Cookery: The Modern Cook. It is nearly impossible to know for sure who had the book after Mrs. B. Stilingfleck and how William Armstrong Graham came to have it. We also do not know if this book was a part of multiple donations from Graham or if this was a stand-alone donation. I don’t know for sure that this copy didn’t go through repairs of any kind. Despite all that I don’t know about this book, I have learned a lot through the limited resources I’ve had access to. The Archivists have given me resources and rich information about the production, afterlife, and history of French Cookery: the Modern Cook.

 

 

Works Cited

Bishop, Amy. “The Booker T. Washington-W.E.B. Du Bois Debate.” Cardinal Tales Highlights from 2018, Iowa State University Digital Press, 7 July 2021, iastate.pressbooks.pub/cardinaltales1/chapter/rare-book-highlights-.

“Graham, William Armstrong,” House Divided: The Civil War Research Engine at Dickinson College, https://hd.housedivided.dickinson.edu/node/5768.Susan, and Susan. “Charles Elmé Francatelli, Maitre d’hôtel and Chief Cook in Ordinary to Queen Victoria.” Unofficial Royalty, 9 Aug. 2024, www.unofficialroyalty.com/charles-elme-francatelli/.

“Hurst, John Fletcher,” House Divided: The Civil War Research Engine at Dickinson College, https://hd.housedivided.dickinson.edu/node/5951.

Remillard, Lynne. Union Philosophical Society, chronicles.dickinson.edu/studentwork/1934/social/unionphilsociety.html. Accessed 29 Nov. 2024.

Susan, and Susan. “Charles Elmé Francatelli, Maitre d’hôtel and Chief Cook in Ordinary to Queen Victoria.” Unofficial Royalty, 9 Aug. 2024, www.unofficialroyalty.com/charles-elme-francatelli/.

The Mystery of E. Biddle

December 19, 2024 / / 0 Comments

There are two inscriptions in Baedeker’s Great Britain. One reads, “EM Biddle, July 6, 1907.” The other, “Aug 1956 EM Biddle – Gift.” The library sticker behind the front cover of the Baedeker reads, “Presented by Edward M. Biddle.”

However, a closer look on the first inscription casts some doubt. Is that “M” really an M, or is it actually a “W”? The other Ms are clearly distinguished from the other letters. Could this mean that the original owner of this Baedeker’s was a different Biddle than the one who gifted it to the Dickinson Archives?

To try and find answers, I asked the archivists for some help in tracking down the possible Biddles. We found a file on one Edward Macfunn Biddle. It included an entry for him in the Dickinson Alumni catalogue; apparently, he was at Dickinson from 1901-1904, after which he attended Yale. There is also a list of Biddle alumni at the college, which included no less than three E.M. Biddles, and one E.W. Biddle.

There is also an article on Edward M. Biddle in the file, written for The Dickinson Alumnus. According to this excerpt, his father was E.W. Biddle, a Judge and former president of the Dickinson Board of Trustees. Edward M. became a legal adviser and was an active member of his community. The most important part of this excerpt reads: “As a traveler he has been in Europe a number of times, has visited South America, as well as extended regions of the United States.” This of course indicates a possible use or ownership of this Baedeker’s guidebook, a fact exacerbated by its publication in 1906, soon after his graduation from Yale. This largely eliminates the possibility of the first inscription in the guidebook being “E.W. Biddle” as opposed to the initially-assumed “E.M. Biddle”… except that E.W. was alive until 1931, when he died unexpectedly at 79. According to the Dickinson College Archives, E.W. was practicing law until 1895, at which point he became the president judge in the Cumberland County Court of Common Pleas. I have already noted the condition of my copy of Baedeker’s Great Britain – it has no annotations or inscriptions within it beyond the two at the beginning of the book, and there is very little wear beyond aging. The only clear indication of use is the broken bookmark, which could be because of age but also because of repetitive use. It is entirely possible to consider that E.W. purchased this book as a way to experience some form of travel from the comfort of his home. He also could have purchased the book as a gift for his son E.M. for graduating from Yale, which he did in 1906, and we know that he travelled. Uncertainty abounds.

The other two Biddles in the directory, both ambiguously labelled only “Biddle, Edward M.” could be ruled out, as they graduated from Dickinson in 1886 and 1852; but they might have purchased the guidebook as another form of stationary travel. Although this Baedeker’s was donated by the E.M. Biddle who graduated in 1904, the Biddle family legacy is present enough in Dickinson college that E.M. could have inherited this book from another family member and then just donated it to the archives.

Because E.M. donated this Baedeker to the archives, I thought that it might be useful to see what other books he might have donated. If these books were also travel books or possessed handwriting that could distinguish the handwriting in the initial inscription of this book, it could help in getting a concrete answer about who owned and read this book. I was able to concretely discover three other books, one of which is Baedeker’s Berlin guidebook, a book about the U.S. Senate called Sketches of Debate in the First Senate of the United States, in 1789-90-91 by William Maclay, and another called The Book of the Homeless by Edith Wharton. This could indicate his ownership over the guidebooks, but we are in the same dilemma as when we started: were these previously owned by a different Biddle?

I also found that in the same year E.M. donated these books to the college, Dickinson purchased the “Biddle House,” which is now used by the Registrar’s Office and the Career Center. This generates some questions – why sell the house but not the books? Perhaps because the Biddle family was moving away; perhaps they needed some money but couldn’t be bothered to as for money over books. The mystery of the “E. Biddle” written in this book is tentatively solved, but unless one could find the receipt of purchase for this Baedeker’s the ambiguity lives on.

 

Works Cited:

Dickinson College Archives on Edward W. Biddle

https://archives.dickinson.edu/people/edward-w-biddle-1852-1931

 

Dickinson College Archives on Edward M. Biddle

https://archives.dickinson.edu/image-archive/edward-macfunn-biddle-1933

 

Dickinson College Archives on the Biddle House

https://archives.dickinson.edu/image-archive/biddle-house-c1900

One Last Gift from Dr. Edwin Willoughby

December 19, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Fig. 1 Edwin E. Willoughby, courtesy of the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation

Since John Lichfield first printed George Sandys’ Ovid’s Metamorphoses Englished, Mythologiz’d, and Represented in Figures in 1632, the copy held within the Dickinson College Archives & Special Collections has travelled across oceans, finding its way to the United States at some unknown time after its publication in Oxford. As a travel writer who spent time in the Virginia colonies in the 1620s, Sandys may have had hopes that his work would make its way to the Americas, but he likely never imagined it would end up at a small liberal arts college in Pennsylvania after being owned by an alumnus who happened to be the Chief Bibliographer of the Folger Shakespeare Library.

Based on the book’s front matter, Sandys envisioned an elite, well-read audience for his work. With both a dedication and panegyric addressed to King Charles I and an address to Queen Henrietta Maria, Sandys positioned his work as worthy of the very top of English society. As a translation of a classic work, with countless other references to different myths peppered throughout, the book also assumes a learned audience with some degree of knowledge of the classics. It is unlikely that anyone without prior knowledge of Ovid and his works would be inclined to pick up Sandys’ translation. Readers would not be familiar with the text itself unless they were familiar with Metamorphosis and its myths, whether that be in Latin or in English. 

Fig. 2 The bookplate bearing Dr. Willoughby’s name.

In regards to education level, Ovid’s Metamorphoses Englished, Mythologiz’d, and Represented in Figures reached its intended audience in its last owner, Edwin E. Willoughby, before arriving at Dickinson College. The history of this book’s ownership in England is unknown; the name “Thomas Chadwick” appears on the title page alongside the year 1780, but this inscription does not indicate where Mr. Chadwick lived. He could have been from England, or he could have lived in the American colonies amidst the American Revolutionary War. As there is no information on him, we likely will never know. But we know for certain that this copy must have been in the United States by October of 1959, when Edwin E. Willoughby passed away with Ovid’s Metamorphoses in his possession. Dr. Willoughby was the Chief Bibliographer of the Folger Shakespeare Library from 1935-1958 and focused his scholarship on the print history of Shakespeare’s work and the history of the King James Bible (“Edwin Eliott Willoughby (1899-1959) | Dickinson College”). The bookplate pasted into the cover of Ovid’s Metamorphoses identifies this particular book as part of the gift Dr. Willoughby’s sister, Dr. Frances Willoughby, made to Dickinson in memory of her brother (See Figure 2).

During his career, Dr. Willoughby acquired many rare books for his own personal collection and sent a number to the library at his alma mater, Dickinson College. In their file on Dr. Willoughby, the Archives possesses multiple memos from college librarians thanking Dr. Willoughby for gifting copies of various works. On one occasion, while working as the Chief Bibliographer at the Folger Shakespeare Library, he gifted the college a 1608 “Black letter” edition of the Geneva Bible and c. 1611-1613 copy of the “Great She” Bible (See Figures 3 and 4). The large gift Frances Willoughby made in honor of her brother in 1960 was the last in a long series of philanthropic donations started by Dr. Willoughby himself decades prior. 

Fig. 3 The notecard recording Dr. Willoughby’s gift of a Geneva Bible.

Fig. 4 The notecard recording Dr. Willoughby’s gift of a “Great She” Bible

Notably, there are no records of Frances Willoughby donating this particular edition, the 1632 Ovid’s Metamorphoses Englished, Mythologiz’d, and Represented in Figures, in any of Dickinson’s archival records. There are a few documents that mention Ovid’s Metamorphoses by name as part of the Willoughby gift, but they all designate it as the 1626 edition (See Figure 5). The Dickinson College Archives & Special Collections does not own the 1626 edition of Sandys’ translation, which I confirmed by checking the catalog of the archives’ physical holdings. This left me with two possible explanations to this discrepancy; one was that at some point Dickinson did own a 1626 edition, and that acquisition was highlighted in the documentation, but was excised from the archives in the years since. The alternative is that either Dr. Frances Willoughby or the librarians cataloging the gift mistook this 1632 edition of the text for the 1626 edition and recorded it incorrectly. I consulted with our archivists, Jim Gerencser and Malinda Triller-Doran, and the three of us were in agreement that the latter explanation was far more likely. Had a 1626 edition of Sandys’ Ovid’s Metamorphoses been excised, it would have been under Jim’s direction, and he explained that he would have never gotten rid of a rare book that was part of the Willoughby collection. 

Fig. 5 Document mentioning Sandys’ 1626 translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses as part of the collection donated to the Dickinson College Library in 1960.

Jim’s insight meant that a copy of the 1626 edition likely never existed in the Dickinson College Archives, so at some point in the donation and cataloging process, someone made an error. Had it been simply the wrong year that was recorded, one might not dwell too long on it, as human error is common and there were no computers in 1960 to keep the streamlined catalogs that the archives have today. But it was more than just the year—all archival documents record the full information for the 1626 edition, which include the publisher and location of publication (William Stansby, London) and the complete title, Ovid’s Metamorphoses English’d. John Lichfield published the 1632 edition in Oxford and it had a much longer title which signified its status as an illustrated translation. Furthermore, this information is all located on the title page of the text. One would only have to open the book to realize that the copy in the archives’ possession was the 1632 illustrated edition, not Sandys’ 1626 translation. I cannot account for this mistake, nor can Jim and Malinda, but it demonstrates the incredible responsibility book collectors, conservationists, archivists, and librarians have when it comes to the texts they preside over. Making mistakes is human, and easy, but misrecorded information can also affect the work and research of future students and scholars. Fortunately, the online catalog correctly lists the 1632 edition as the version that Dickinson College holds in the archives.

 

Works Cited

“Edwin Eliott Willoughby (1899-1959) | Dickinson College.” Dickinson.edu, 2019, archives.dickinson.edu/people/edwin-eliott-willoughby-1899-1959. Accessed 1 Dec. 2024.

Gerencser, Jim and Malinda Triller-Doran. Personal Interview. 2 December 2024. 

 

Divine Songs for Children

December 14, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Divine Songs for Children is a little mystery tucked within the Dickinson College Archives.  Initially, the book appears ordinary and plain; it resides discreetly within a protective clamshell box.  The box is designed to look like a typical hardcover book, it has a spine and the edges (where the pages of a book would be visible) are set deeper in and covered.  The boards are covered with orange-brown cloth.  As I picked the box up and gazed upon it, I recognized the gold streaks that run horizontally across the cloth.  The interwoven gold threads shimmer in the warm light of the archives.  Running my hand over the cover I could feel the coarse texture of the fabric.  It almost seemed like I could feel each individual thread.  The front board of the box, its “cover”, is labeled with a copy of the copyright page.  The spine is labeled with the condensed title, “Divine Songs,” the book’s publication year and location, Carlisle 1812, and the call number.  From a quick glance at the camouflaged box, nothing hints at the little secret tucked within.

Only upon opening the box did I realize it was not the book itself.  To the probable annoyance of my peers, I expect I audibly gasped when instead of pages I was greeted with the beautiful metallic marbling of the box’s interior and a surprise palm-sized book tucked perfectly within.  Underneath the marbled endpages, the same coarse-threaded cloth covers the inside.  The marbling is the same orange-brown tones, now with added silver, bronze, and gold pigments.  In the warm light, the metallic tones shimmer terrifically.  Now, I am finally facedwith the real Divine Songs for Children.  It is a small, unembellished blue book.  Surrounded by the splendor of the box, you would expect to be let down by its simplicity, but I was thrilled.  In comparison to the clamshell, Divine Songs seems tiny (it is less than half the size: the clamshell box is 21.8cm x 14.7cm x 2.6cm, Divine Songs is 10.25cm x 6.8cm x 0.2cm).  It is bound without embellishment: the binding is made of the same paper as the inner pages, there are no boards or endpages, all sewn together with thread.  The front and back cover have a single-color faded marbling design.  The pages of the book do not feel brittle, as I expected from such an old book.  The paper is soft and pliable.  It is small, cradled in my hands, delicate and malleable.

There is a frontispiece on the very first page; it is the only illustration in the book.  The frontispiece is rectangular and off-center (the margins are not evenly spaced on all sides).  It depicts three children standing across from a woman sitting in a chair.  The illustration uses only black ink; it takes advantage of the negative space to create the children’s faces and their clothes.  The copyright page follows.  It credits the full title: Divine Songs Attempted in Easy Language For the Use of Children by Isaac Watts.  This edition was published in Carlisle in 1812 by Archibald Loudon.  There is no information about an editor or any additional information about how this book came into print.  Sprawled across both pages are handwritten words in script.  It is not very legible, the ink has faded and bled.  It very likely is a signature or a name and a date.  The book is twenty-nine pages in total, including the copyright page.  The Ten Commandments, “put into a short rhyme” follow the final hymn.  The book ends with a summary of the commandments, “With all thy soul love God above, And as thyself thy neighbor love,” and “FINIS”.

The margins are inconsistent throughout the book.  The text is never perfectly centered, and the direction it leans is inconsistent.  On the first couple of pages of the book, the text nearly touches the bottom of the page; the upper margin is big, while the bottom margin is near nonexistent.  By the end of the book, the text is more centered.  The text on page 13 is printed on an angle.

There are signs of wear throughout the book, but the most significant damage appears to be a water stain on the top left of the first page.  Throughout the book, the paper is discolored and the edges are chipped.  A couple of the pages appear to have burn damage (most noticeably pages 4 and 5).  The chipped edges are most notable here and are a dark brown color.

Who owned Divine Songs?  Who brought it to the archives?  After 200 years the book is still in good condition, so likely it was maintained.  It was cared for and valued by someone.  But by who?  

Unfortunately, it is not known how this book found itself in the Archives of Dickinson College.  On the inner margin of the 3rd page there is a “Dickinson” stamp.  The Dickinson College Archives used to use ink stamps, like the one in Divine Songs; however, their use was discontinued in 1956.  The “Dickinson” stamp is most often accompanied by a secondary stamp, which indicates the book’s inventory number: this stamp is missing from Divine Songs.  Instead, the call number is written in pencil on the upper margin of the 2nd page.  Either this book entered the archives after the use of these stamps was discontinued, or, more likely, it was decided Divine Songs for Children was too small and valuable for the second stamp.  From 1927 until the end of the century, donations and acquisitions to the archives were handwritten in ledgers.  Often the entries were vague and left out “unremarkable” titles.  It would not have been feasible to handwrite everything acquired by the library, still, this unfortunately leaves many books in the archives without records.  Divine Songs is not mentioned in these ledgers.  Either it was received after 1927 and was not documented specifically or it was received before 1927, prior to the use of ledgers or records at all.  We do not know how Divine Songs for Children got to the archives, or about its life before then.

The Known and Unknown Afterlife of Divine Songs for Children, 1812

December 13, 2024 / / 0 Comments

The Dickinson College Archive’s copy of Divine Songs for Children, printed by Archibald Loudon in 1812, is far from in its pristine condition.  It has many signs of wear, along with indications of its importance.

The archives have no records of any previous owners of the small book (it measures a modest 10.25cm x 6.8cm x 0.2cm ).  However, it is apparent from markings on the first two pages of Divine Songs that it had at least one owner before its time in the archives.  On the very first page of the book, above the frontispiece, someone wrote on the upper margin in script.  Overtime, the ink has faded and expanded.  This, together with what appears to be water stains on the top left corner of the page, makes it difficult to read the words with certainty.  The first line seems to be someone’s name, maybe “Sarah Muller.”  Or maybe it’s “Sarah Milter.”  Presumably, this “Sarah” was an owner of Divine Songs, possibly even the book’s original owner.  Written underneath the name is a date, “January 11th, 1834.”  Before the date there is another word, which I believe says, “born on.”  January 11th, 1834 is likely Sarah’s birthday, meaning the book might have been a gift for her birth or her baptism. 

Given the content of the book, the owners were almost certainly religious; likely they were protestants, as the author of the hymns used in Divine Songs, Issac Watts, was a Protestant minister.  We do not know if Divine Songs for Children had a different owner before Sarah or if she was the first.  There are twenty-two years between the year written in the book and its year of publication (Divine Songs was published in 1812); unfortunately, there is no information or evidence about where the book was during this time, or of any further owners, before or after Sarah.  On the following page, there is more handwriting in the upper margin, however it is illegible.

Besides the handwriting on the first page, there are many other signs of wear and use throughout the book.  As I mentioned briefly earlier, there is a water stain on the first page and several other less severe stains on the following pages.   The marbling on the cover is worn down, and the edges of the pages have small chips.  On the top edge of a couple pages, most prominently page 5, there are what appear to be burn marks.  Perhaps someone held the book too close to a candle?  There are some areas where the text has faded, but never to the point of illegibility.  Based on the wear that Divine Songs for Children has endured, I think it is unlikely that this book was heavily used, especially by a child.  It is still, even after 212 years, in very good condition.  There is no glaring damage, no tears or rips, no harsh creases.  The book was used, yes, it was owned and read.  But likely, it spent most of its life tucked away.

It is unclear when Divine Songs for Children was acquired by the Dickinson College Archives.  There is no record of when, or how, the book came into the archive’s possession.  There is a Dickinson ink stamp on the inner margin of the third page; these ink stamps were used until 1956 when the practice was updated.  Ordinarily, books with the Dickinson ink stamp also had a stamp showing the book’s inventory number.  Divine Songs’ call number is written in pencil on the second page, but there is not a second stamp in the book.  Starting in 1927 until the end of the century, acquisitions of the Dickinson College Archive were recorded in handwritten ledgers.  Unfortunately, these records were not always comprehensive, and specific titles would get left out.  For example, a record would say a title “and three other books” were donated, leaving many texts in the archives without records or histories.  Divine Songs for Children is one of these texts.  It is not found in the ledgers.  Maybe it was acquired before 1927 and before the use of the ledgers?  Or maybe it was acquired since but not documented specifically?  The book’s past is lost; its history is unknown.

We do know, however, what has happened to Divine Songs for Children since arriving in the archives.  In 2020, the Dickinson College Archives worked with a preservation specialist to have a clamshell made for the book.  This endeavor was headed by James (Jim) Gerencser, the Associate Dean for Archives & Special Collections.  Because Divine Songs was not bound with any boards, it is fragile and susceptible to damage.  The clamshell would act as a protective box for the book.  The clamshell was custom-made for the book to fit perfectly within it.  The clamshell was created by Linda Sale, a preservation specialist from Octávaye.  Founded in 2001, Octávaye is a company based in Texas that “provides artifactual restoration and preservation services by adding contemporary approach through art and design,” (as stated on their Instagram, @octavaye).  Looking through their profile and a blog post by another client (“Octavaye”), Octávaye specializes in custom protective boxes for books and other documents, without working on the book itself.  Octávaye’s boxes are intricate and meticulous, covered with stunning fabrics and hand-marbled paper, often crafted with moving parts to support the book.

The clamshell for Divine Songs was designed to appear like a typical book from the outside.  There is a recreation of the title page on the “cover” ofthe clamshell, and on the “spine” is a label with the title, Divine Songs, and the book’s call number.  The clamshell is significantly larger than the small Divine Songs (the clamshell’s dimensions are 21.8cm x 14.7cm x 2.6cm).  Along with the clamshell’s firmer makeup, its larger and more standard size allows Divine Songs for Children to be easily and safely shelved alongside other books in the Dickinson College Archives.  In total, the creation of the clamshell box cost $350.00.  This book is a valued piece of the archives, based on the effort and money put into preserving it.

 

Works Consulted/Cited

“Octavaye.” What’s in Woodson, 17 Nov. 2020, https://woodsononline.wordpress.com/tag/octavaye/.

“Octavaye-Preservation Instagram Profile.” Instagram, https://www.instagram.com/octavaye/?hl=en. Accessed 13 Dec. 2024.

Ossoinig, Wendy. “OCTAVAYE LinkedIn.” LinkedIn, https://www.linkedin.com/company/octavaye/. Accessed 13 Dec. 2024.

“Watts, Isaac.” Encyclopædia Britannica Online, Encyclopædia Britannica Inc, 2020.

Palestine and Syria: Audience

December 13, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Baedeker travel guides were premiere copies bought and loved by millions of travelers from the mid-19th century onwards. Baedekers raised the standard for modern-day guidebooks, their content, format and organization informing what we understand to be an excellent guidebook by today’s standards.

Bookseller and publisher Karl Baedeker’s creation of these informative travel companions was sparked after taking a trip to Paris. He found that the guidebooks he came across were severely lacking in terms of enriching cultural content, linguistic aids and illustrated maps. Baedeker pursued his passion project of creating a premiere set of guides complete with detailed maps of each region to facilitate easy navigation for travelers, a star rating system to inform level of luxury, transit information to allow travel via the growing rail networks, as well as advice on how to navigate local customs.

The explosive success of Baedeker fueled an uptick in mass tourism from the mid to late 19th century. These travel guides made traveling for leisure accessible to ordinary people, bought by both aristocrats and travelling explorers as planning tools to explore the world’s most renowned tourist destinations. Independent travelers empowered with the information to craft their own journeys abroad embarked on trips pocket-money friendly, not having to rely on the Grand Tour, an expensive expedition only

With the publishing of travel guides like Palestine and Syria, Karl Baedeker’s empire opened the door to millions of ordinary travel hungry people. The practice of travel previously privileged only to young, aristocratic men now opened up to include all sorts of different people. Originally printed in German, as Baedekers gained popularity they were translated into Italian, French and English for readers across Europe to enjoy.



Bibliography

Dawson, David. “The History of Baedeker Guidebooks.” Gothic Futurism, 1 Jan. 2024,
gothicfuturism.com/travelling-the-world/the-history-of-baedeker-guidebooks/.

Sorabella, Jean. “The Grand Tour: Essay: The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Heilbrunn Timeline
of Art History.” The Met’s Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History, Oct. 2003,
www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/grtr/hd_grtr.htm.

A Selection of One Hundred and Forty of the Most Favourite English, Scotch, Irish, and American Songs, Part Two: Origins of its Publisher and Publication

December 12, 2024 / / 0 Comments

How might the history of a publisher bring a book into context—even with no indication of who actually edited it? A Selection of One Hundred and Forty of the Most Favourite English, Scotch, Irish, and American Songs was published by the press of “A. Loudon,” as according to its title page. Archibald Loudon’s deep roots in Carlisle, PA provide a clear outline of his cultural and publishing interests. They even strongly suggest an answer to the mystery of whether he himself edited A Selection, or if he republished the whole collection. One of the few things we can attempt to trace about the book are Loudon’s reasons for publishing it, beginning with the context surrounding his career.


Books were Loudon’s “life-long pursuit” according to historian Eric Fretz. Loudon’s frantic history of inserting himself into early Carlisle’s publishing world reflects this passion: even before the opening of his own publishing press, he participated in the book-loving community of the town. He engaged in book-binding, sold stationary, and was established postmaster of Carlisle in 1802 (Fretz 62). His duties as postmaster were not unimportant tasks, and impacted the spread of information locally. The management of post caused political opinion impact, influenced monetary management, and the title itself indicated a position of high governmental trust. Hungry for more, he officially began his publishing career through a friend: George Kline, who printed Loudon’s publications prior to the opening of Loudon’s press in 1804 (Fretz 62). As for A Selection, it was published by Loudon’s own press in 1806, fresh off the excitement of its opening two years prior.


Loudon’s devotion to the literature-world of Carlisle was so intense that despite the small magnitude of his success as a publisher, more than one historian (including Eric Fretz and William A. Hunter) considers him one of the most important printers of early Carlisle. Fretz characterizes Loudon as a “disseminator of early American culture” (Fretz 61), justifying this title by describing his varied publishing interests and role as postmaster. Loudon did, in fact, intend to spread his publications as far as possible, and to do so by appealing to the most popular subjects of the time. Loudon was known to be “keen as to social trends” (Fretz 64), and seemed to attempt to balance these wider social trends with local interests. He spent much of his effort editing his most well-known publications, a series of “true accounts” taken from a number of American-colonial interviewees regarding their encounters with local indigenous American populations. American “frontier” stories were a consistent interest of Loudon’s and of the larger Pennsylvania populace at the time, too: stories of white settlers waging war against Native Americans spread rapidly (Fretz 64). His enthusiasm for spreading local stories continued through the establishment of his own paper, The Cumberland Register, from 1805-1813 (Hunter). But Loudon was also infatuated with the world of art, especially theater. He published a significant number of plays, was a well-known enjoyer of music, and even published the work of a little-known Cumberland County poet, Isabella Oliver (Fretz 62). Loudon was ardent, and his publications from his own press were both edited and printed by him. Considering all this interest in music and theater, A Selection joins the ranks of a large number of artistic publications that Loudon dedicated time to during his career, bearing the obvious mark of his press:


The image above displays the book imprint of A Selection, “Whitehall,” used as Loudon’s imprint from 1805-1809 (Schaumann). The nickname refers to the white walls of Loudon’s press, formerly located at 28 High Street. In fact, his old paper press from the building was obtained by the Cumberland County Historical Society—it hasn’t moved very far! It stands in the museum as a reminder of the early impact of Loudon’s press, and I’ve included an image of it for reference. (For context, the paper press would’ve been used to make paper sheets more even, flat, and dry by pressing. The plaque next to the press includes these details.) The “Whitehall” imprint, displayed clearly in A Selection’s front page, is another bold reminder of Loudon’s press and the pride he took in it.


Another point of pride for Loudon was his ancestry. From what I can tell, it has influenced nearly all of his publication interests, A Selection included due to its inclusion of Scottish and Irish songs in its compilation. In fact, though there is no indication of which songs are of which cultural origin, Eric Fretz identifies the majority as Scottish (63). Loudon’s parents were Scottish immigrants, and moved to America in 1754 (Hunter). Most families in Carlisle during its early history as a town were made up at least in part of Scottish or Irish folks who immigrated to British colonial America. Another significant part of A Selection is American “frontier” songs, ones discussing the founding fathers, military power, and colonization, especially George Washington (Fretz 63). These songs accurately showcase Loudon’s blatant “pioneering” interests (Hunter), and correlate with his most popular publications of stories of war with Indigenous Americans. In fact, Loudon’s family has a history of violent conflict with local Native American populations, attempting first to settle on Indigenous land before relocating, causing Loudon to eventually settle in Cumberland County (Hunter). William A. Hunter notably skims swiftly past the conflict between Loudon’s family and local Indigenous peoples, choosing to focus on how it impacted his future edited story collection. However, there is far more substance to this direct link, including his consistent interest in popular “frontier” stories, his dedication to “disseminating” Scottish/Irish-American colonial stories, and the American songs included in A Selection.


Interestingly, through a Cumberland County Historical Society article on Loudon, I’ve been able to find a portrait of him, as seen above. He appears quite stoic, his expression neutral and focused and his dress professional. He’s perhaps distant, both in his place in the larger space of the portrait and in the way he faces the side, not the front, and does not look at the viewer. There aren’t any extra objects, colors, or lighting included in the portrait, leaving all the focus on Loudon and his impression. From my research, the portrait seems to be an accurate depiction of his hunger for himself and his business to be seen and successful, and this intensity and focus comes across. The portrait, though unrelated to A Selection, makes an interesting addition to supplement Loudon’s familial background, career, and known character.


With those three attributes above for context, it becomes clear why Loudon would take interest in publishing A Selection. But the mystery remains of whether Loudon reprinted the compilation entirely, or edited the selection himself, something that Eric Fretz only touches on briefly as a question (63). To me, however, answering this question is vital to my thinking about my project—so I’ll offer a hypothesis with the above evidence I’ve gathered. Due to Loudon’s personal connections with the cultural origins and topics of the songs included in A Selection, I believe he had some hand in editing the collection. The subject of the compiled songs align with Loudon’s publication history, and with his interest in art and music. This would imply that the “most favourite” songs were Loudon’s own “most favourite,” adding personality and clarity to the book’s title. After all, why would the songs not be some of Loudon’s “most favourite” if he took pride in colonial expansion and his Scottish ancestry?


The main issue with this answer is that Scottish and Irish immigrants made up the majority population of Carlisle. It isn’t impossible that the compilation in its entirety could have existed prior to A Selection’s publication, and suited the interests of another editor or publisher. However, since I am unable to find proof of its existence prior to Loudon’s publication (as are the historians discussing early Carlisle publications), I’ve settled largely into my previous theory. If nothing else, it is a fictitious story that ties Loudon’s history and this book’s publication together in a neat and well-researched bow.

Bibliography:

A Selection of One Hundred and Forty of the Most Favourite English, Scotch, Irish, and American Songs. 1806. SC 398 87 S698.

Dickinson College Archives & Special Collections.

Fretz, Eric. “Archibald Loudon of Carlisle: Disseminator of Early American Culture.” Cumberland County History, vol. VII, no. 2., pp.

61-67. Cumberland County Historical Society.

Hunter, William A. “Archibald Loudon, Pioneer Historian.”1962. C H H947a. Cumberland County Historical Society.

Schaumann, Merri Lou. “Archibald Loudon (1754-1840).” Elizabeth V. and George F. Gardner Library, Cumberland County

Historical Society, gardnerlibrary.org/encyclopedia/archibald-loudon-1754-1840.

 

Image Credits:

Oil on canvas of Archibald Loudon, painted in 1807 by Cezeron (1952.005.001).

https://gardnerlibrary.org/encyclopedia/archibald-loudon-1754-1840.

Remainder of images taken by iPhone, by author.

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