Some New Thoughts on the Jacob’s Ladder, that Mysterious Toy

The Jacob’s Ladder is an old-timey pastime that has made a surprising comeback recently. Twenty years ago wooden versions were available only from retailers making a stand against modern soulless plastic toys.  Jacob’s Ladders now can be obtained in different designs and materials quite inexpensively because they have been redefined as a “sensory” or  “fidget” toy that can help relax and focus autistic children. It is also  recommended as a good distraction for small, restless travelers or pupils having trouble sitting still. The kinetic illusion has been demystified by all the bloggers who have posted step-by-step illustrated instructions for crafting a Jacob’s ladder at home.

Cotsen has three or four old Jacob’s Ladder toys and I decided to try and confirm the date of manufacture for the earliest one, which is supposed to be late eighteenth or early nineteenth century.  Here is Cotsen 28398 viewed from the side:

Digging up material about the toy’s origins and history is a lot hard than finding instructions for making one!  Almost every scrap of information I  found was suspect, starting with the claims that the toy dates back to the Pharoahs.  The name, it is confidently asserted, was inspired by the account of Jacob’s dream in Genesis, but the earliest use in the Oxford English Dictionary appeared in 1820 and makes no reference to the Bible.  From the colonial period, the Jacob’s Ladder was supposed to have been a favorite Sabbath toy, so the wealth of  nineteenth-century American texts on-line would surely yield up a reference,  advertisement, or picture or two.   But searching on “Jacob’s Ladder toy” and all the alternative names–Aaron’s Bells, Chinese Blocks, Click-klack toy, Magic Tablets, Tumbling Blocks–failed to turn up anything useful. The pile of authoritative books on the history of toys in my study were no more helpful.

The most unlikely finds–two pieces by Charles Dickens, a short story “A Christmas Tree” from Household Words (1850) and an essay, “Toys, Past and Present” from All the Year Round, October 1 1876– turned out to contain pure gold.  The Jacob’s Ladder hanging on the tree in the short story describes it as “made of little squares of red wood, that went flapping and clattering over one another, each developing a different picture, and the whole enlivened by small bells, was a mighty marvel and a great delight.”  The passage in “Toys, Past and Present”  explains in greater detail how the marvelous effect was created and why gave so much pleasure: “It consisted of six oblong pieces of wood, adorned with pictures on both sides, and so connected with tapes that when the top piece, which was held in the hand, was turned down, all the others would turn down likewise by an apparently spontaneous movement, causing a new series of pictures to be presented to the eye, which was highly gratified by the change, as were also the ears by the clattering of the wooden tablets and the tinkling of some little bells which they were decorated.”

Dickens would have had no trouble recognizing this as a Jacob’s Ladder. There were differences, of course, between the ones with which he was familiar and the one in Cotsen. The six pieces of wood were covered with colored paper instead of painted and there was no sign that it had ever had bells.  It does click when the blocks tumble down.  The most important similarity is the presence of pictures on both sides of the pieces of wood. Dickens doesn’t say anything about the subjects or style of the pictures.  The prints on the Cotsen Jacob’s ladder were likely cut out of lottery sheets, a kind of ephemeral engraving, and glued to the paper covering of the boards.   Not much is known about lottery sheets beyond that they were being produced for children to “play with” as early as the late seventeenth century.  These sheets certainly would have lent themselves to craft projects of all kinds, but the presence of cut-outs from commercially available prints on a toy like this probably doesn’t prove it was homemade.  Cutting up lottery prints may have been the a cost-effectivel method of applying illustrations to a toy before technology existed to print directly on the wood.

There is another possible  source for the prints pasted on the boards…  There is a certain resemblance between the engravings in Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song-Book (G. Bickham, jr, 1744) and Nancy Cock’s Song-Book (T. Read, 1744) and perhaps a copy of such a small book was sacrificed to make the object…Winterthur Museum, Garden and Library has a German Jacob’s Ladder with two little rings piercing the long edges.  Bell fasteners, perhaps?  It has been dated to the same period as the English example in Cotsen.Another thing Dickens’ two descriptions establish is how much the appearance of a modern Jacob’s Ladder has changed in the twentieth century. The essential wooden (or plastic) pieces and the tapes are the same, but the use of bright contrasting primary colors is one of the hallmarks of the modernist toy aesthetic the Bauhaus developed. It is possible to find modern Jacob’s Ladders with patterns or pictures painted on the surfaces of the pieces, but pieces of unfinished wood or in solid colors with contrasting colored tapes are much more common. Bells must have been eliminated along the way as a swallowing hazard, as well as too expensive, too troublesome to attach securely. In 2019, Mr. John Armstrong, a toymaker in Omaha, Nebraska, wrote me a wonderful note about the history of this marvelous toy:

I just read and enjoyed your article on Jacob’s ladders from earlier this year.  I can push the origins back a few more hundred years for you (not to ancient Egypt).  Click on the link below and you will see a painting by Bernardino Luini from the early 1500s.  The puzzle the child is holding should look familiar.  Although only two boards long, the basic concept is there, all the way down to inserting a bit of string behind the two ribbons so it will appear and disappear. On Wikipedia it is said that Luini worked with and was influenced by Leonardo.  Could that have been the origin of such a clever toy?

We will probably never know, but what an intriguing idea!

 

Take Your Choice:  Mezzotints of Naughty and Nice Girls after Thomas Spence Duché

A favorite subject in the  eighteenth-century was the parallel lives of a pair of boys whose lives diverged after childhood and went in radically different directions.   Probably the most famous one was William Hogarth’s Industry and Idleness (1747), a narrative in twelve engravings about two apprentices, one who rose to be Lord Mayor of London, the other hung as a murderer.

Because girls do not figure so often in stories of this kind (leading much more circumscribed lives than boys), Cotsen was delighted to acquire a pair of mezzotints contrasting the exemplary behavior of an industrious and an idle girl after Thomas Spence Duché, a pupil of Benjamin West who moved from Philadelphia to London during the American Revolution.   They were published by the London printseller Benjamin Beale Evans.

Thomas Lovegood (an imaginary name if there ever were one), dedicates the first engraving “To all sweet tempered industrious & obedient children.”  A perfect example of such a girl is shown seated to the right of a table, holding open the crisp pages of the writing book to show her beautiful copies of round hand italic capitals.  Tight blonde ringlets frame her sweet, mild face and the sheer dress is arranged gracefully over her lap and modestly closed knees. The caption,   “Who would not be GOOD to look so lovely?”  holds out the promise that exemplary behavior will make beauty to bloom, and as we all know, all things come to a fine-looking girl with agreeable manners.

Badness, on the other hand, is always supposed to put on an unattractive face, so Mr. Lovechild has dedicated the second print “To all pouting lazy illtempered lying & disobedient children.”   This little miss certainly embodies all those disagreeable traits.  The wretched girl wears the same dress as the other one but sits in an ungainly and immodest pose, skirt rumpled, knees akimbo. Her book, open to the pictures, has the tell-tale sign of neglect, folded and creased pages.  Next to the book is a switch, which has probably been applied to her bottom The engraver is one Henry Birch, which Richard Earlom used as a pseudonym, but context suggests was a joke.  She stares out of the picture at the viewer while one hand plays with the tousled, messy hair on her temple.  “Who would be NAUGHTY to look so ugly?”  asks the title. Around her neck is a string threaded through a leather strip reading “Lyar.”  She is crowned with a dunce’s cap.  She ought to look ashamed for being publicly humiliated this way, but she doesn’t look particularly sorry for whatever it was she did to deserve this punishment.

Miss Sulky is not wearing the tall cone made of paper associated with schoolroom shaming of pupil or master.  Hers is a truly magnificent specimen, modelled on the cap and bells traditionally worn by Folly on the left of the cut below. (Minerva is seated to the right, holding out a book to the boy, who has to chose between the two of them.)  I have no idea what the meaning of symbols above the label on which “Dunce” is printed might be.St. Nicholas’ Day has already flown past, but there’s still time to clean up your act before Christmas Eve.  Which little girl will you remember?  Whose example will you take to heart?