A New Game for 1888: The Game of Politics, or The Race for the Presidency: Will History Repeat Itself in 2024?

W. S. Reed Toy Company in Leominster, Massachusetts earned a place in the annals of American toy manufacture when it launched “Espirto: The Talking Board”  in the early 1890s to eat into sales of “Ouija” put out by the Baltimore firm Ouija Novelty Company.

Less well known is Reed’s early entry into the board game market, “The Game of Politics, or The Race for the Presidency” issued on the occasion of Grover Cleveland’s run for the White House against Benjamin Harrison in 1888.  Unfortunately, Cotsen only has this promotional flyer, not the actual playing board.  Bonham’s sold one in 2007 and the American Antiquarian Society has a complete set, of course.

Here is a transcription of the rules:

This is the year when we elect our President, and this new and entirely original parlor game is a complete presidential contest in miniature.

It is as lively and exciting a game as euchre or whist for older people and for young people it is as easily learned as dominoes, and gives them, besides, the fun of playing it, a  perfect education in the political government of their country.

This novel and unique game is played on a finely illuminated board, in five colors, with a pack of 48 cards, in six original colored designs, numbered from 1,000 to 10,000.  It can be played with two, four or six players.  Ladders, with numbered rounds (each round counting 1,000), lead to a Major’s Chair, a Governor’s Chair, and a Congressman’s Chair.  The next stage in the game is to reach a seat in the United States Senate Chamber, a correct interior view of which is engraved on the boards.  The race for the White House, a correct view of which makes the center-piece of the board, brings the game to an exciting finish.  The States and the number of votes cast by each, are printed in the middle of the board, and are carried one by one, by the side that throws the highest cards.

Cleveland lost in 1888, but retook the White House in the 1892, defeating incumbent Benjamin Harrison.  Currently Cleveland has the distinction of serving two non-consecutive terms.

 

 

Have Fairies Always Had Wings? The Iconography of a Magical Being

Everyone knows–or ought to–that fairies can fly.  All the thoroughly modern tooth fairies illustrated in this summer’s post about “Rewriting the Tooth Fairy’s Job Description,” no matter what they were wearing, had wings.  These magical beings may not have acquired this essential power until relatively late in their history.

Unfortunately, fairies frequently disguise themselves when they need to test mortals.  In Perrault’s “La fee”–often known in English as “Diamonds and Toads”–the cruel stepmother sends her detested stepdaughter to the well to draw water for the family.  The kind girl stops to give a poor old woman (a fairy transformed beyond recognition) a drink before hurrying back home with the the full pitcher. The illustration does not blow the fairy’s cover then or at the end of the story, so the reader has no idea what she really looks like.  Maybe she has wings, maybe she doesn’t…

f

My guess is that she probably didn’t.  Here is one of the earliest pictures I have ever seen of fairies in the wood cut frontispiece to a selection of original fairy tales by Mme. d’Aulnoy published by Ebenezer Tracy in 1716, just a few years after they were first translated into English.  (Cotsen 25203).   A group of tiny fairies are dancing in a ring before their king and queen, who are, rather incongruously, the size of human beings (the bird and insect in the upper left and right also were not drawn to the expected scale). The dancers are wearing brimmed hats with steeple crowns, the kind that Mother Goose and witches wear, but they have no wings.

The book was owned by a George Jones who wrote his name in the back of the book.  George tried to copy a portion of the frontispiece on its blank side.  He, or whoever the artist was, had some trouble drawing the fairies, but they don’t any wings.

Cotsen 25203.

William Blake, who claimed to have seen a fairy funeral, ought to be a reliable source. The Tate holds a charming  drawing ca. 1786 of the fairies dancing in a ring before their  king Oberon and his queen Titania, in which everyone is wingless. 

A little over ten years later, the French illustrator of  Perrault’s “Peau d’ane” in an edition of 1798.  The girl with the donkey’s skin thrown over the blue dress must be the heroine, so the fairy has to be the lady in the rose gown with the billowing yellow scarf descending in a cloud.  No wings necessary seems a reasonable explanation.

But in forty years, there has been a major change in the representation of the appearance and attributes of fairies.  The fairy Cri-Cri shown in the frontispiece of  Fairy Tales, Consisting of Seven Delightful Stories (London: T. Hughes, 1829;  Cotsen 33142) has gauzy pink wings and an accessory that is clearly some kind of wand.

It is impossible to mistake the fairy in the Walter Crane illustration below.  Her blue chiton harmonizes perfectly with her gorgeous (and very prominent) wings.

Lucy Crane, The Baby’s Bouquet: A Fresh Bunch of Old Rhymes and Tunes. Illustrated by Walter Crane. London: George Routledge & Sons 1878 (Cotsen 21153).

Why did the appearance of fairies change so dramatically?  I strongly suspect it was the  influence of the popular theater in London, but it will take an enterprising enterprising scholar to establish a more precise history of fairy wings…