25 Years of Rauner Library

This past week we celebrated the 25th anniversary of the opening of Rauner Special Collections Library. We kicked off the week with faculty panel discussions about research and teaching in Special Collections, then had a series of events throughout the week with our various library partners. We were delighted and honored to have Gina Barreca '79, the Board of Trustees Distinguished Professor of English at the University of Connecticut, deliver our keynote address on Thursday. 

In commemoration of Gina's talk, we acquired a truly great work: the first trade edition of Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own from the Hogarth Press that includes the iconic dust jacket designed by her sister Vanessa Bell. We already had the fancy limited edition first printing, but the trade edition is really far more important. After all, it was the one people actually read and that spread the Woolfs' ideas about women writers and the social conditions necessary for writing success.

Also out all week was Mario Puzo's 1965 portable Olympia typewriter on which parts of The Godfather were composed. We invited students and other visitors to type up a message. It was an offer that many could not refuse. In fact, it was such a hit, we plan to leave it out in the reading room for a few more weeks if you have an urgent missive that needs that certain special delivery.

To see the new A Room of One's Own, ask for Rare PR6045.O72 Z474 1929b. For Puzo's typewriter, ask at the desk. When we move it out of the reading room it will be in Box 55 of Puzo's Papers (MS-1371).

The Mystery of the Helms Incident

One of the more interesting phenomena in reading archived correspondence is the realization that everyone’s discussing the same event without explaining what actually happened. The writers and the recipients know what they’re talking about and don’t need to summarize for some outside audience — they’re private letters after all. But as a result, a researcher can read pages and pages of reactions to something apparently significant enough to elicit commentary, all while missing out on the instigating incident.

In looking through our collection of papers for the activist and philanthropist W. H. Ferry, we recently came to the conclusion that a man named Paul Helms once got himself in big, big trouble. What kind of trouble, you might ask? The details are frustratingly elusive, but it sounds like he said something about Senator Joseph McCarthy that struck a nerve. Helms was a businessman with friends in politics, including President Eisenhower. He must have put his foot in it, because in 1954 the letters between him and Ferry all begin turning towards the subject of Helms’s apparent censure in the public eye. Helms forwards copies of some of the letters he’s received, containing sentiments such as “I understood you were a real helper in the field of humanity — now I know it was just a cover up for your communist aims” and “We wish you were a good enough American to unlatch Joe McCarthy's shoes.” He warns Ferry not to tell him that he deserved it and in response Ferry assures him that he did the right thing, intimating that the fallout is in fact Eisenhower’s fault. However juicy this sounds, the details of the incident aren’t readily identifiable. 

To try to untangle this particular piece of gossip, ask for ML-21, Box 18 Folder 14.

New Exhibition: More than a Monster: Medusa Misunderstood

You might know her from Caravaggio’s famous Medusa, the face of Versace, the book, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or some other adaptation of the ancient myth.  Medusa is ubiquitous, appearing in Greek and Roman literature (from Hesiod’s Theogony to Ovid’s Metamorphoses) and in architecture, metalwork, vases, sculptures, and paintings throughout history. Yet the most well-known portrayals of her all predictably converge upon one brief moment from her life’s story: her beheading and the use of her decapitated head by a man to petrify others. Medusa then becomes an apotropaic symbol warding off evil, similar to the evil eye. She is imagined more often as an object or a monster than as a human.  Even though Classical and Hellenistic depictions presented Medusa as more human than in the previous Archaic period, the popular conception of Medusa today still upholds her “otherness,” her monstrosity. Modern-day artists have embraced Medusa as an emblem of female power, a beautiful monster, and used her story in the service of social movements; for example, Luciano Garbati’s Medusa with the Head of Perseus went viral in 2020 in connection with the #MeToo movement.

This exhibition, "More than a Monster: Medusa Misunderstood", serves to highlight the other half of her story as it appears in Ovid – Medusa as a maiden, not a monster – her overlooked and overshadowed past. The exhibition was curated by Elizabeth Hadley '23, the Edward Connery Lathem '51 Special Collections Fellow, and will be on display from March 25th, 2024, through June 28, 2024. To learn more, visit the exhibition website here.

Happy (Belated) Purim!

Last weekend, Jews around the world gathered to celebrate the holiday of Purim, or the Festival of Lots. This joyous occasion, celebrated each year in the Hebrew month of Adar, celebrates the triumph of the Jewish community of ancient Persia against the threat of annihilation at the hands of the villain Haman. Jews traditionally celebrate Purim by dressing up in costumes, sharing baskets of treats and gifts with friends, eating delicious triangular hamantaschen cookies, putting on comedic plays (purimshpieln), and gathering in synagogue to listen to the Purim story read aloud from the Book of Esther. This is the story of how the beautiful Jewish Queen Esther and her cousin Mordechai foiled the plot of the wicked Haman, advisor to King Ahasuerus, who sought to exterminate the Jews. Unlike Torahs, which take the form of a double parchment scroll, the Purim story is traditionally written on a single parchment scroll called a megillah, which gives the Book of Esther its Hebrew name, Megillat Esther.

Rauner recently acquired a rare Megillat Esther, written in elegant Hebrew script on parchment. While it can be hard to determine the date and place of origin for Hebrew manuscripts, carbon dating tests performed by the dealer narrowed down the potential date range, and analysis of the Sephardic script and Italianate parchment indicate that it was most likely produced in Italy between 1500 and 1550. According to the dealer, this megillah is one of only 30 surviving copies of this text dating from 1400-1600.

Amazingly, the scroll that bears this infamous story of Jewish persecution was produced during another infamous moment of Jewish persecution: the advent of the Jewish ghetto in what is now Italy. The first Jewish ghetto was established in Venice by ducal decree in 1516, in the same time period and approximate location as our megillah. The Jews of Venice and, later, other Italian city-states, were required to live segregated from the gentile population, only permitted to leave the ghetto during the day before being locked in at night. I like to think that for the Italian Jewish community that produced and read this very megillah, the Purim story had special salience and significance - an inspiring story of Jewish survival.

To see our Megillat Esther, come to the reading room desk and ask for Codex 003513.

How much is that in Beavers?

While prepping for a class this Winter, we stumbled on an amazing 18th-century chart of prices. It has the typical merchandise you would expect for sale at a remote trading post: cloth, glass beads, shoes, guns, pots and pans, blankets, and other things you might need. But what makes this one so foreign, is that everything is priced in beaver pelts!

A yard of broad cloth would run you two beavers, and a gallon of rum four. One blanket was six beavers, and a pair of cargo breeches three. It seems like a luxury, but two ivory combs were just one beaver.

This system was put in place by the Hudson Bay Company and it radically disrupted the economic world for Indigenous tribes throughout the area, leading to the "Beaver Wars" and upending traditional cultural systems and practices.

The trade goods were a powerful incentive, and the impact on the beaver population can be seen by the annual harvest recorded by the Hudson Bay company in the same report.

To take a look yourself, ask for John Strange 1749 Report from the Committee, Appointed to Enquire into the State and Condition of the Countries Adjoining to Hudson’s Bay, and of the Trade Carried on There : Together with an Appendix (Stefansson  F1060.4 .G774 1749).

Writing "The Blues"

Lizzie Jackson, in this letter from February 1853, paints an accurate depiction of someone suffering from depression.  Interestingly, though, she never names her affliction as depression. She calls it “the blues”--even putting it in quotes. Still, she describes the slower perception of time in a way that those who have experienced depression will understand all too well:

“The days appear like weeks to me, and Sunday, I thought night never would come. I have wished a few times that I was with my dear Nat, I have thought of nothing since you left but you, I would give any thing that is have to be with you to night.”

She also describes her low energy level and unwillingness to do certain activities: “I would write more if I could interest you but I know I could not do that when I have the ‘blues’.”

In the 19th century, the “blues” originated with an English phrase “the blue devils,” referring to the symptoms of withdrawal from alcohol. Soon after, the phrase was shortened to “the blues” and associated with sadness and the state of depression and feeling upset, which is the way that Lizzie uses it. A century later, a musical genre would come to be called “the blues” because of the melancholic songs at its heart.

In the 1850s, though, there was an extreme stigma around “the blues” and mental illness. Mental illness was viewed as untreatable and more of a spiritual problem, a perception that was reinforced by the devilish history of the phrase. Society at the time would place people in asylums or call people possessed. With that sort of social stigma, would you want to admit if you were feeling depressed? Lizzie certainly feels the need to hide her depressive state and expresses this need for secrecy, ending her letter with a strict command: “Come home soon. Give my love to Pa, Ma, and all of the family. Let no one see this.” She then goes so far as to not fully sign her name, instead using only the first letter of her first and last name, “L— J—”, to provide her with some anonymity.

While the stigma around depression and mental health has decreased significantly, the need to hide how one truly feels still pervades our culture. According to the most recent data from the World Health Organization, about 280 million people worldwide suffer from depression. Lizzie writes to her husband because she needs support during this time. Let’s do what we can to support those around us, and reach out to those who are close to us when we need help.

To see this letter, ask for MS-1106, Box 1, Folder 3.

Jamaican Pepper and Turkish Figs

We recently acquired two humble yet fascinating little manuscripts that shed an impressive amount of light on the capitalistic and exploitative foundations of British colonialism: early 18th-century London grocery bills. Both of these folio pages supply a wealth of information about what England was bringing home from its colonies abroad for Great Britain's upper class. At the top of both invoices, grocer John Cosins boasts that he "sells the best coffee, tea, chocolate, [with] all sorts of Grocery at reasonable rates."

In this circumstance, these superior groceries had been sold to Sir Thomas Sebright, 4th Baronet of Beechwood Park, in the late 1720s. Sebright was an English politician and landowner whose father-in-law was the Lord Mayor of London. Sebright was also implicated in the notorious "South Sea Bubble" stock market crash; he and other politicians had received gifts of stock in the South Sea Company, which had artificially inflated its value through similar schemes.

Despite his questionable ethics, Sebright seems to be doing quite well for himself years later as he enjoys the fruits of other's labor: pepper from Jamaica, figs from Turkey, and Asian spices like cloves and nutmeg. To have a look at a colonizer's shopping list, inquire at Rauner's reference desk. These items haven't been catalogued yet but soon will be.