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:
[Jacob’s Ladder Decorated with Cut-out Engraved Images. England?: between 1770 and 1799?]. (Cotsen 28398)
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…
Nancy Cock’s Song-Book. [London]: Printed for T. Read, [1744]. (Cotsen 7262290)
(Cotsen 7262290)
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!
“Work” with respect to girls and women used to be synonymous with “needlework.” Not just the stitching of samplers, but “plain sewing,” the making of shifts and shirts, aprons and babies’ caps for members of the family. Those tasks were not relegated to the servants: princesses and queens were supposed to cheerfully perform this necessary work as well. Virtuous female characters from the Bible and classical literature were cited as examples. It was said the daughters of Queen Charlotte were expert at tapestry work and fine embroidery of all kinds.
To be honest, there are more illustrations in 18th-century children’s books of boys mistreating animals in than of girls sewing. Only one I’ve found in the collection so far is The Brother’s Gift, which was first published by Francis Newbery in 1770. The story is straightforward enough. Kitty Bland returns home from boarding school “perfectly spoiled,” having picked up affected manners. Like most boarding school misses, she can’t spell correctly, write neatly, read aloud nicely, or, most important of all, sew carefully. In spite of all this her older brother Billy loves her too much to let this continue and explains kindly why it is to her advantage to learn all these things—and stop spending so much time staring at herself in the mirror. Here she is hard at work.
And here is her thimble.
If Kitty applies herself, she might one day produce a map sampler like this one in the Victoria and Albert Museum.
Or aspire to needle paintings in worsted like Mary Linwood, who exhibited her full-size copies of old masters in a gallery on Leicester Square in London for decades. Here is one after the famous animal painter, George Stubbs. 
