Education and teaching | Cotsen Children’s Library

Today, we turn the blog over to the one and only Dr. Dana Sheridan,Cotsen’s scrumdiddlyumptious Education & Outreach Coordinator. This post is based on the program that she and Cotsen curatorial assistant, Ian Dooley, dreamed up for the Cotsen Critix based on collections materials. It’s cross-posted on the two Cotsen blogs for everyone’s enjoyment. Take it away, Dr. Dana and Ian!

The Cotsen Children’s Library is part of the Department of Rare Books and Special Collections at Princeton University, but it also houses a whimsical gallery space and outreach programs that promote a love of literacy in children. Today, I’d love to share a collections education presentation we hosted for Cotsen Critix, our literary society for children ages 9-12.

The session was entitled “Weird Books,” and our goal was to give kids a deeper appreciation for the unusual formats books can take. The books were selected and presented by Cotsen’s curatorial assistant, Ian Dooley – a frequent contributor to this blog (here, in fact, is his most recent post on Dickens).

The first book Ian presented was a tiny volume stashed inside a leather-hinged walnut shell. It’s The Bronte Castle Alphabet by Elmira Smith Wilkey (Bronte Press, 1981). The book is a mere 3 cm (1.18 inches) in height!

In contrast to the miniature book, Ian brought out an extremely oversized one – the aptly titled Let’s Count Big Book (World Book Co., c1953). He discussed how this book might have been used in a classroom, and why it needed to be so large.

(Cotsen 23000)

And what about books that have no pages? While the kids puzzled this question over, Ian brought out two horn books. The first was an Urdu horn book created in Lahore, Pakistan by Mubarak’s Sons Stationers. While undated, it’s most likely 20th century.

[Urdu paddle hornbook]. Lahore, Pakistan: Mubarak’s Sons Stationers. (Cotsen 151623)

Here’s another, very different horn book. The illustrated blocks on the face of the horn book depict the 6 days of Creation. The illustrations appear to be printed from blocks used in the Coverdale Bible, which means that this object dates back to 1535. The kids were simply stunned by its age.

[Wooden paddle hornbook. England? not before 1535]. (Cotsen 63377)

And then there are books made out of unusual materials. Such as this metal book, L’Anguria Lirica (Edizioni Futuriste di Poesia, [ca. 1933]). It’s a collection of poetry by Tullio D’Albisola, illustrated by Bruno Munari. The text and illustrations are color lithographed on tin.

L’anguria lirica. Roma: Edizioni futuriste di Poesia, [1933?]. (Cotsen 26541)

Some books might appear normal, but they contain a secret. This 1877 edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Macmillan and Co.) has a hidden fore-edge painting. Fan the pages just so, and you are treated to John Tenniel’s illustration of the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party (Ian describes the fore-edge painting of this book in much more detail in this post).

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. London: Macmillan and Co., 1877. (Cotsen 30998)

And speaking of Alice, Ian thought the kids might recognize this famous artist’s interpretation of the story.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. New York: Maecenas Press: Random House, 1969. (Cotsen 26631)

The melting clock is the giveaway, really. This is a 1969 folio edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Maecenas Press, Random House) with illustrations by Salvador Dali. One very unusual thing about Dali’s Alice is the binding. It doesn’t have one! The chapters float freely apart and are stacked and stored inside a clam shell box when not in use.

Ian also brought out a lift-the-flap book and a book on wheels for the kids to examine. He remarked that while we might not find these formats unusual today, at one time, they would have been extremely novel to young readers. He added that early movable books and shape books like the ones below also helped push the boundaries of what can be traditionally considered a “book.”

Die Praxis des modernen Maschinenbaues: Modell-Atlas. Berlin: C. A. Weller, [191-?]. (Cotsen 28687)

A Ride to Fairyland. London: Valentine & Sons, Ltd., [ca. 1915]. (Cotsen 11891)

The presentation’s grand finale was a book so lengthy, we needed to display it on a 6 foot table! It’s The City Park (Viking, 1981), a reproduction of an antique German toy book by Lothar Meggendorfer. The book unfolds into multiple arrangements that can display different scenes and perspectives in a 19th-century city park.

The City Park. New York: Viking, 1981. (Cotsen Reference PZ7.M5143 Ci 1981)

All in all, “Weird Books” was a fantastic presentation full of surprises and revelations for the kids. Ian was kind enough to stay for 30 minutes after his presentation ended, answering questions about rare books, Cotsen’s collections, his job at the library, and inexplicably, robots. Thanks so much Ian!

To see more books from the Cotsen stacks, visit our virtual exhibitions!

Envelope with Dickens’ signature in the bottom left corner and wave seal at back. [Autograph letter signed]. Broadstairs, 1843. (Cotsen 44006)

On September 16th, 1843, Charles Dickens wrote a letter to Angela Burdett-Coutts in Broadstairs, Kent. He opens the letter by remarking on his current progress writing Martin Chuzzlewit (which he would publish in monthly installments from January 1843 — July 1844). But the majority of the letter meditates on the condition of a particular Ragged school in London, probably the Field Lane Ragged School. Ragged schools were charitable organizations that offered free education for the destitute children of 19th Century England’s struggling working class. Often run by working class people in their own neighborhoods, the schools offered instruction during the evening, after the children had been working or begging during the day.

In the letter’s second paragraph Dickens describes the school he had visited a few days prior:

“On Thursday night, I went to the Ragged School; and an awful sight it is. I blush to quote Oliver Twist for an authority. . . The school is held in three most wretched rooms on the first floor of a rotten house: every plank, and timber, and brick, and lath, and piece of plaster in which, shakes as you walk. One room is devoted to the girls: two to the boys. The former are much the better-looking — I cannot say better dressed, for there is no such thing as dress among the seventy pupils; certainly not the elements of a whole suit of clothes, among them all. I have very seldom seen, in all the strange and dreadful things I have seen in London and elsewhere anything so shocking as the dire neglect of soul and body exhibited in these children. And although I know; and am as sure as it is possible for one to be of anything which has not happened; that in the prodigious misery and ignorance of the swarming masses of mankind in England, the seeds of its certain ruin are sown, I never saw that Truth so staring out in hopeless characters, as it does from the walls of this place. The children in the Jails are almost as common sights to me as my own; but these are worse, for they have not arrived there yet, but are as plainly and certainly travelling there, as they are to their Graves…” [pages 1-2]

From this heartwarming opening, Dickens continues to explain the poor physical condition of the school, the struggles of its young inhabitants and teachers, their devotion to prayer and knowledge of God, and its significant lack of funding.

Why mention all this to his dear friend Angela you might ask? Well, for one thing, she happens to be popularly known as “the richest heiress in England”. In 1822 Angela Burdett-Coutts became one of the wealthiest women in England after inheriting £1.8 million pounds sterling from her grandfather, Thomas Coutts, founder of the banking house of Coutts & Co.

Towards the closing of the letter then, its purpose becomes quite clear:

“I need not say, I am sure, that I deem it an experiment most worthy of your charitable hand.” [page 8]

The entreatment would prove fruitful. To show his gratitude, Dickens would dedicate the 1844 monograph of Martin Chuzzlewit to Miss Burdett-Coutts herself. A prodigious philanthropist, Burdett-Coutts would work with Dickens on a number of charitable enterprises untill his death in 1870. Famously, the pair would found the Urania Cottage, a home for young women who had “turned to a life of immorality”, in 1847.

In the last paragraph of the letter Dicken’s explains that he will soon be leaving for a visit to the Manchester Athenaeum. In Edgar Johnson’s exhaustive biography: Charles Dickens: His Tragedy and Triumph, Johnson explains that this visit, and the audience that Dickens would encounter there, would provide the author with his inspiration for perhaps, his most well known work: A Christmas Carol (see Johnson, page 254).

For your enjoyment and perusal (hoping your 19th Century English paleography is up to snuff) the letter is reproduced below: