Messages from the past: Books printed 220 years ago
Igrew up as a somewhat eccentric Tehachapi boy who loved books. I do most of my reading on a computer or cellphone these days, but I’ve never lost my affection for the printed page, for the feel, texture, heft, appearance and scent of an old book. Some of my favorites are books that have been in my family for 100, 150 or even 220 years or more. I had some venerable relatives, mostly greataunts, who also treasured books, and they kept them safely through the years and these elegant, occasionally tattered old books eventually made their way to me.
Other antique editions were given to me by elderly friends who knew that I appreciated them. Assorted volumes of classic literature, poems, children’s stories, global adventures. . . they enlarged my world and gave me a time machine activated and powered by old books. Leather-bound or bearing cardboard covers stamped with gold foil, aged pages that could be supple or brittle. . . . these have transported me through time and space far beyond the Tehachapi Mountains where I have spent my life.
Among my favorites are some little books, or booklets, really, containing stories for children that were printed right at the start of the 19th century — more than 220 years ago. These were intended to be engaging but also moralistic stories that carried unsubtle messages urging good behavior.
One called “Trifles for Children,” printed in London in 1803, has a few brief profiles of birds or animals interspersed with cautionary tales of misbehaving boys. One youth climbs a tree by a river to steal some baby birds from a nest, but falls into the river and is nearly drowned. Another lad teases a bull, which is quietly minding its own business, and the bull tosses him with his horns. Yet another careless boy attempts
to catch butterflies with a net, falls into a pond, and has to be saved by his friend’s attentive water dog. It’s not hard to perceive the publisher’s viewpoint: children should be sedate and obedient instead of wild and rowdy.
Another one is called “The Unfortunate Sailor and his Faithful Dog,” printed in 1808, and it is a longer story of a traveler winding his way through moors and woods in a remote part of England. He learns of the recent discovery in a forest of the emaciated remains of a man dressed in sailor’s clothes, who had apparently been overcome by hunger and fatigue. “His countenance was serene and his posture composed; a small bundle of linen supported his head, and the remains of a faithful dog lay by his feet.”
The traveler was amazed by the tale, and exclaimed about the dog: “Faithful creature! Never would thou leave nor forsake him; when neither the voice of friend or kinsman cheered, and the shades of death fell upon him, in the dreary wild thou watched over him and expired by his side!”
The book ends with the traveler, Sir Frederick, visiting the churchyard where the unknown sailor and his dog had been buried, and says a prayer for them. And then, “So saying, with tearful eye, our traveler took his departure.”
I first read the story when I was 11, and it left an impression on me. It reminded me of the story of Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye Terrier who spent each day for 14 years
laying on the grave of his deceased master.
A 2009 movie called “Hachi: A Dog’s Tale” is based on the true story of a Japanese dog whose owner died at work in 1925 and never came back to the Shibuya train station where his dog would always meet him. The dog, Hachiko, returned to the railway station every day for his remaining nine years, still waiting for his
master to return.
I have one book that is much older than any of the rest. It is an old botanical guide, apparently written in Swedish and given to me by a close family friend of my Swedish great-grandparents. She said that the book is from the 1600s, and it has a cover that is parchment or rawhide. The pages appear to be