Tag Archives: Monkeys

Wheels: Bicycles, Sleighs and Chariots in Nineteenth-century Children’s Books

Posted on by

Les Enfans Parisiens. Paris: Chez Aubert & Cie. [ca. 1850]. (Cotsen 22849)

An elegant, low-slung coach drawn by a matched pair of stylish young gentlemen for an afternoon ride through the park?  This enormous plate (24 x 29 cm.) comes from Les enfans parisiens: Jeux, exercice et amusements (Paris: Aubert & cie, ca. 1850].

Lustige gesellschaft. München: Braun & Schneider, 1867. (Cotsen 34396)

If you have to have fresh air no matter what the weather, this is the sleigh for you.  Graf Franz von Pocci designed this sleek, minimal vehicle for an illustration to a poem in his Lustige gesellschaft: Bilderbuch von Fr. Pocci (Munich: Braun & Schneider, 1867).

Het nieuwe apenspel. Amsterdam: G. Theod. Bom, [1862]. (Cotsen 52644)

Something with more power?  These simian charioteers were dreamed up by Jacobus Wilhelmus Adrianus Hilverdink for Jan Schnkman’s Het nieuwe apenspel (Amsterdam: G. Theodore Bom, 1862).

Little Hearts. London, Manchester and New York: George Routledge and Sons, Limited, 1897. (Cotsen 15288)

There’s always the reliable old bicycle.  It’s not fast or flashy, but it can take you where you want to go.  Florence Upton drew this image of a little girl polishing up her big brother’s bike for her mother’s Little Hearts (London, Manchester, New York: George Routledge and Sons, Limited, 1897), several years before she scored an enormous hit with the Golliwog series.

All these pictures of vehicles were chosen to illustrate the theme of transportation in the nineteenth-century volumes of the Cotsen catalogue.

Curator’s Choice: Pen Flourish Figures in a Dutch Boy’s Copybook ca. 1733

Posted on by

This week when I was paging some manuscripts, I got distracted and made a discovery.   I didn’t remember ever having looked at the materials on the shelf where the one manuscript to lives and stopped to peek into a few of the archive boxes on either side of it..

One of them was a eighteenth-century copybook that had been filled in between January and August 1733 by Jan Haverman, who lived in Amersfoort, a Dutch city on the river Een in Utrecht.

Jan Haverman’s signature on the leaf pasted down on the front marbled paper cover. [Copybook]. Amersfoort (Netherlands), 1733. (Cotsen 91631)

Cotsen has quite a few American and British copybooks, but I didn’t know there were  Dutch ones as well.  Opening the marbled paper wrappers, I noticed that the pages were not ruled with carefully spaced lines that are supposed to make it easy for the student to write the practice text across the page.  The odd-numbered pages, I discovered, had margins decorated with highly stylized decorations composed of swirling lines.  Whoever calligraphed these beautiful figures was something of  an artist.

The woman with a cap and curls down her back on leaf 1. (Cotsen 91631)

Jan Haverman signed the bottom of every page he copied out, but did he have the control of the pen to have drawn the figures in the margins as well?

The man in the feathered hat on page 3. (Cotsen 91631)

The hissing snake on page 5. (Cotsen 91631)

The dancing dog on page 19. (Cotsen 91631)

The sly fox on page 21. (Cotsen 91631)

The clever ape on page 67. (Cotsen 91631)

The bird eating cherries on page 35. (Cotsen 91631)

Could Jan’s writing master been the creator of the fantastic people and creatures?  Scholars who study the history of writing instruction often distinguish the parts in an exercise executed by the student and those the instructor corrected.  But why would the master have done the drawings in the margins?  Or is the hand that drew the illustrations that of Jan?

A sprig of flowers on page 27. (Cotsen 91631)

There ARE some blots, misformed letters, and wobbly lines on this page, so perhaps the figure in the margin here was intended as an incentive to do better next time!