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The author and his beloved dog on page 22. Il Moretto del Pittoni. In Venezia: Presso Leonardo Pittoni, MDCCXIII [1713]. (Cotsen 21972)

On this dog day of summer, we thought we’d relieve the heat with a little canine levity in the Cotsen Children’s Library. It’s not a children’s book, but it could be considered a forerunner of fictional animal autobiographies like Edward A. Kendall’s Keeper’s Travels in Search of His Master (1799) or Anna Sewell’s better known Black Beauty.

The above image is from Il Moretto del Pittoni: narrazione encomiastica serio-faceta della dignissime perogative che in lui si attrovavano (In Venezia : Presso Leonardo Pittoni, MDCCXIII [1713]). Which is a mouthful of 18th-century Venetian. Very (very) roughly translated, the title is:”The Moretto Pittoni: The most Serious-facetious Laudatory Narration that is My Worthy Perogative to Find for Him. This half-serious encomium (an extensive celebratory and eulogizing biography of a person or thing) narrates the life and death of Moretto, the venerable dog of the author Giovanni Battista Pittoni and his publisher/father Leonardo Pittoni.

Most of the text is in Venetian, but the opening poetry of praise on the frontispiece (and the lengthy closing “epigraphe”) are in Latin.

The frontispiece and title-page spread.

The story opens with Moretto being found and then taken home to the young author. It follows him through his adventures as a young pup and the tricks he performed in his youth. But the life of Moretto takes a turn for the worse, unfortunately, when he finds himself in a confrontation with the dreaded family cat:

Page 26. Could the Pittonis have sat by and watched the epic battle without intervening?:

As a result of this episode, the poor dog is blinded. But much to the chagrin of his enemy this means the family treats him even better. Moretto is fed the best doggy meals while the cat looks on enviously:

Page 28. Interesting to see that the Moretto was fed in the kitchen.

But nothing can hold back Moretto! Despite his blindness he continues on in his virtuous life.

A well respected member of the dog community:

Page 34. This looks like an unsupervised dog play group.

And a courageous defender of his home from the traditional enemy:

Page 3. How many animals were there in the Pittoni household, anyway?

The latter part of the book mostly deals Moretto’s old age and dignified infirmity. As the wise and aged canine reaches his golden years, he can no longer return to his bed without a little assistance:

Page 45, where you’ll also see a picture of Moretto on the wall.

Alas! At the almost impossibly ripe old age of 25, Moretto succumbs to his rheumatism:

Page 53. Poor Moretto…

For a relatively short book (72 pages), the story of Moretto’s life is bursting with 171 references and comparisons to classical thinkers and figures like Socrates, Boethius, Ovid, Seneca, etc (citations at page 68 and 69); a purposeful exaggeration of the encomium form. Though I think it is clear that the Pittonis loved their dog and mourned his loss (they published a book about his life after all), I can’t help but appreciate their sense of humor in creating a facetious and over-the-top tribute to a family pet.

Thanks to John Bidwell, Astor Curator and Department Head of Printed Books and Bindings at the Morgan Library, for helping with the translation of the text. Any errors are mine alone.

P.S. Can anyone take a guess as to Moretto’s breed?

From the collection of Doris Frohnsdorff. [Album of Victorian chromolithographed Christmas and Valentine’s Day greeting cards. England, between 1872 and 1878]. (Cotsen 33205)

Contained within the unassuming binding above lies a secret treasure trove of Victorian ephemera. Compiled between 1872 and 1878 by none other than Helen Leech Potter, Beatrix Potter’s mother, this quarto volume is an album of cards for Valentine’s Day and Christmas given to young Beatrix, beginning when she was six years old. The cards are mostly from family (especially “Mama” and “Papa” and “Grandmama Leech”) and family friends like the Gaskells, Nurse MacKenzie, Dora Hollins, and a certain Mr Goul. Perhaps few artifacts remain that can rival the perfection with which this album documents the ornate and frilly taste of the late 19th century English middle class.

Located at the head of the front free endpaper, this inscription indicates that the album itself was an 1872 Valentine’s gift for Beatrix (full name Helen Beatrix Potter) from her affectionate mother.

Card at top of leaf [3]

Interestingly, the cards contain no hand written messages or signatures. Either notes accompanying the cards were discarded when the cards were pasted into the album or the sentiments printed on the cards themselves (which as you will see, can sometimes be quite lengthy) were deemed sufficient. Helen Potter diligently recorded the name of the gifter and the year the card was given, either inside the card or immediately below it.

“From MacKenzie 1872”, Helen Potter’s inscription inside the card shown above. “Mackenzie” was Beatrix’s nurse.

Card at bottom of leaf [3], “From Mama 1872”

Leaf [4], "Grandmama Leech 1872", perhaps the biggest fan of paper lace.

Card on leaf [4], “Grandmama Leech 1872,” perhaps the biggest fan of embossed paper lace.

Inside of the card on leaf [4].

Leaf [6]. This leaf is one of many with sections or cards cut away, perhaps by Beatrix for a later project.

Card at top of leaf [6], unfortunately, we might never know "What makes a husband like a little dog".

Card at top of leaf [6] from “Aunt Mary 1873.”. Unfortunately, we won’t ever know “Why is a husband like a little dog?”

Leaf [7], “Mama 1873” at top and “MacKenzie 1873” at bottom.

The cards were printed by various English, German, and French sources, many unidentified. The majority, however, bear the recognizable imprint of the publisher Marcus Ward, a British company known for publishing illustrated books and mass producing greeting cards since the 1860’s. Marcus Ward’s Art Director, Thomas Crane, employed popular artists like Kate Greenaway and his son Walter Crane to design and illustrate the company’s greeting cards.

Card on leaf [8], unattributed.

Card on leaf [11], “Grandmama Leech 1874,” perhaps in a bid to win Beatrix’s affections? This is by far the largest card. . .

Card at top of leaf [13], “Papa 1874”.

Card at bottom of leaf [13], “Mr. Goul 1874”.

Card on leaf [14], "MacKenzie 1874", including a

Card on leaf [14], “MacKenzie 1874”, includes altered lines from William Wordsworth’s To the Daisy (1807) reading: “When smitten by the morning ray,/ I see thee rise, alert and gay;/ Then, cheerful flower, my spirits play/ With kindred gladness.”

Card on leaf [26], “Mr. McLaren 1876”.

Card at top of leaf [28], “Dora Hollins 1878.”

Card at bottom of leaf [28], “Papa 1878”.

Card at top of leaf [29], “Bertram 1878”, Walter Bertram Potter’s first card to his older sister Beatrix, when he was 4 years old.

Card at bottom of leaf [29], “Papa”.

Card on leaf [30], “From Mama 1878”.

The last Valentine’s Day card in the album is the real coup de grâce. This unattributed card has it all: bright colors, frills, real lace ties, printed flowers, an intricate daisy border, and inside, a sickeningly sentimental segment of poetry taken from Thomas Hood’s I love Thee! (also unattributed):

Card at top of leaf [40]

Though Valentine’s Day cards have changed a lot in style since the Victorians shared them with friends and family, we have them to thank for the perfecting the mass production of cards and promoting their distribution.

If you still haven’t gotten a card for your sweetie, I hope you can draw some inspiration here for a last-minute tribute.

Happy Valentine’s Day from Cotsen and Beatrix Potter!

Cotsen Children’s Library

Princeton University

Category Archives: Publishers and booksellers

The Noble Life of Moretto: An 18th-century Venetian Dog

Happy Valentine’s Day, Beatrix Potter!