A Jingling Johnny Puts in a Rare Appearance

The Rehearsal

   

Taking the time to examine historic objects brings out details that imbue the articles with interest. The above photo is from an 1870’s stereoview and shows a typical genre scene of a musical rehearsal, but a second glance shows that the photographer recorded something unusual. 

There are four male musicians accompanied by a woman playing a keyboard instrument. Two of the men are playing a cornet and a trombone, both perfectly ordinary. One is playing an early tuba, highlighted in a blue square, but the most interesting is the performer on the right, highlighted in red, who is playing the Turkish crescent, also known as the Jingling Johnny.

The jingling Johnny blends in with the elaborate sconce behind

The Turkish crescent was a percussion instrument, basically a pole hung with bells. Mostly a flashy parade instrument, it was meant to be shaken or twisted to ring the bells. It is still made and used to some extent, so is not entirely obsolete. This one is very typical, with a crescent on top, conical “hat” below (yet another name is chapeau chinois, or Chinese hat), and a larger crescent below that, all hung with bells. Their polished brass and exotic shape make them popular with musical instrument museums, as with these examples:

Turkish crescent in Boston MFA

Example in Basel

and one in Germany

The Turkish influence was popular in Western music starting from the 18^th century—think of Mozart’s Rondo alla Turca. Many pianos of the period had Turkish or Janissary stops which controlled various bells, cymbals and drums.

Although the jingling Johnny itself was popular, photographs of it are rare, especially in use, and this is the only photo I have seen that shows it in a home environment. Thus this photograph, even if possibly staged, gives evidence of how people used and thought of the instrument.

Notice the very wide conical bell on this tuba, with almost no flare

Most mechanized brass instruments were developed in the 19^th century, but this tuba seems primitive even by the standards of 1870. It is still shaped very much like the earlier ophicleide, from which it was developed. Notice that the bell end is simply a wide truncated cone, with very little flare to it. The tuba in this photo resembles the Moritz tuba, which Phillip Young remarks is noted for its early primitiveness.

Ophicleide, early brass bass instrument, by Guichard, MFA

Early tuba by Moritz

Early American tuba by Gilmore

More modern tuba by White (made in Cleveland!)

This baritone also shows the typical modern brass profile

Here is the entire stereoview. (The two halves were taken at slightly different angles, and appear three-dimensional when viewed through a special viewer.) The image as a whole helps tell us how people spent time and entertained themselves 140 years ago, playing instruments, forming home music ensembles, and even looking at stereoviews. An interest in musical instruments lets us notice the individual elements of this photo, with the result that two early and unusual instruments are brought into focus.

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Images:

MFA crescent, Guichard ophicleide and Gilmore tuba courtesy Boston Museum of Fine Arts, www.mfa.org.

Basel crescent courtesy HISTORISCHES MUSEUM BASEL, www.hmb.ch.

Moritz tuba from The Look of Music, by Phillip Young.

White tuba courtesy U. of Michigan Stearns Collection, www.music.umich.edu.

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Back to Harvard: Fall, 1899

Issue from September 27, 1899.

Labor Day is upon us, and students everywhere are returning to their dorms to prepare for another year of  studying and partying. This immemorial custom was true even for the patrician students of Harvard college back in 1899, as we can see from glancing though old issues of the Harvard Crimson.

  

Many of the ads feature furniture and other appurtenances of the late nineteenth-century dorm room. Most of it seems pretty fancy. We are solidly in the golden oak period, and there is still quite a bit of Victorian frippery in evidence.

One often thinks of dorm furniture as miscellaneous cast-offs, with perhaps a parsons table from Ikea thrown in. Naturally, one would expect a higher standard at Harvard. Richard Bissell, in his classic You Can Always Tell a Harvard Man, quotes an 1876 letter from Theodore Roosevelt (Harvard 1880) describing his room: “The curtains, carpet, furniture—in short, everything is really beautiful; I have never seen prettier or more tasteful wall paper. When I get my pictures and books, I do not think there will be a room in College more handsome or comfortable.”

 

This dandy analyst’s couch would have been just the thing for budding Harvard psychoanalysts at the turn of the century.  Freud was then at his zenith, and in 1899 William James, one of the founders of modern psychology, and brother of psychological novelist Henry James, was teaching at Harvard, so there was likely a strong demand for this particular piece of furniture.

 

Freud's actual couch, in the Freud Museum

 

The above ad for carpeting features an unlikely conversation between two students. It’s just a trick of the shading, but the standing one looks like he’s wearing a monocle, adding to his supercilious bearing, and making him resemble P.G. Wodehouse’s character Psmith. He doesn’t seem to be looking at his friend, but rather at the burning cigarette without an ash receptacle in sight, leading to new-carpet anxiety. He apparently has never heard the maxim that ashes are good for rugs.

Clothing of all type was heavily featured to outfit the returning students. The Cygolf shoes above look appropriately Victorian, but the Tuttle ones below in every detail could still be sold today. How many products have a 112+ year life-span without any modification or design changes? Classics endure.

 

Harvard students needed to relax following all that strenuous decoration, and there were plenty of options available. They might go to see Mlle. Fifi, not a young lady, but the controversial play by Oscar Méténier, based on a story by Guy de Maupassant.

 

Tobacco pipes were practically the emblem of the college student back then, and fine meerschaums were none too good for the Harvard undergraduate. Luckily, they didn’t have to depend on puritan Boston tobacco, or some questionable Harvard blend, but indulged in Yale Mixture tobacco.

Billiards were yet another option. Students could amble down to Sanborn’s Billiard Parlors, or the more exclusive could purchase their own table  from J.E. Came and Co.—notice the 4-digit phone number in Boston. If you look closely, you see this is a true billiards table, with no pockets. Anyone who has seen The Music Man knows how déclassé pool and pool halls are, compared to billiards; I’m sure that pool is still beneath the notice of Harvard students.

 

I had always associated Stover with Yale, but apparently he needed a career after his gridiron glory days were over. I realize they were tying to demonstrate customer and staff loyalty, but somehow their testimonials seem peculiarly unappealing--their constancy seems more like addiction or mesmeric coercion. I would not base my choice of pharmacy on the sole fact that their scrubwoman (presumably Old Mother Hubbard herself) has scrubbed the floors continuously for 35 years. Note the interesting use of the archaic word “goody”.

 

 
These old ads from the Harvard Crimson are amusing because they reflect the world of the 1890’s, yet are curiously relevant over 100 years later. Oriental rugs and briar pipes are no longer de rigueur, but the basic nature of college students has not changed. College and a dorm room represent the first taste of independence, and students want their quarters to be comfortable and attractive, while proving their maturity and sophistication.

En Garde! Colorful Vintage Tin Swords

Lately my eyes have been starved for color, so I decided to revisit this group of vintage tin swords. Originally, I was just going to obtain one or two, but somehow it was not difficult to persuade myself to acquire the entire lot. There is something about old objects in mass which makes them more appealing—that is the collecting instinct. 

The fantastic quality of these swords is in the colors of the scabbards: green, red, mauve, orange, yellow, and champagne, all beautifully soft and muted, yet infused with life from the metal beneath.

The scabbards are further embellished with a primitive dot-and-dash design, and embossed with a crescent and circle symbol. There are two lugs for attaching a silk hanger, although few of these are extant. Finally, there is a gold label identifying the swords as the product of the Hong Dong (宏東)  or Great Eastern toy company. 

The blades are strengthened by a central groove, which I just learned is also called a fuller. The blades are separately inserted into the hilts. The cross-guards on the hilts repeat the crescent-and-circle motif, and some of the pommels still retain their original cotton tassels.

I still haven’t decided how to display these swords. The Victorians approved of weapon displays in dining rooms, libraries, and entry halls, yet this doesn't seem exactly friendly, even given their bright hues.

Looking over my shelves for information on old swords, I coincidentally found Arms and Armour by Charles Boutell, presumably not the same person as C. Boutelle, the boarding-school troublemaker, although you never know, as this book was published in 1907.   

Swords as toys do bring up some moral issues. Some people disapprove of military toys, while others worry that they foster gender stereotypes, despite the image of Joan of Arc. I don't think that molding guns out of pink plastic for girls, which I have seen, is the best answer to this dilemma.

Toy swords are still very popular in Taiwan. Plastic ones are readily available, and even wooden ones are frequently seen, although I have not seen new tin ones. They are as much fun as ever—we all have a little Zorro in ourselves.

A Cryptic Message from Old Yale

 When I found this postcard depicting Yale’s Alumni Hall, I was intrigued by its odd inscription, “The House of Terror”. This vivid comment makes us wonder just what was so horrific about this building. 

The mystery postcard

We conjure up mental images of recalcitrant alumni being forced finally to make that donation, through means too awful to name aloud. Supporting this, we can see a couple of what look like Durfee residents lurking behind an elm tree in obvious fear of the building.

Better make a run for it.

Although Alumni Hall is long gone, Yale must still employ some of the same techniques; its fund-raising efforts seem more successful than generosity alone could account for. Consider that its recent fund drive, ending just last June, raised nearly four billion dollars.

What's left of Alumni Hall

Here is more evidence of the nefarious nature of Alumni Hall’s activities: after its demolition, the towers were saved and re-erected by Yale’s notorious Skull and Bones Society. Hidden in the rear courtyard of the Skull and Bones Tomb, who knows what dark rituals are yet performed there.

The Towers today, with their simplified battlements.

 

Aerial view today, showing the twin octagonal towers.

Alumni Hall was built in 1853, designed by one of the great architects of the day, Alexander Jackson Davis. Two of his iconic buildings are the New York Customs House, the emblem of Wall Street, and the Gothic Revival masterpiece Lyndhurst in Tarrytown, New York. The present photo of Alumni Hall was copyright in 1901, and the building was razed in 1911 to build the still-standing Wright Hall.

The Wadsworth Atheneum

 
  Although its symmetry makes it less romantic than some Gothic Revival structures, we can see Alumni Hall’s relation to other Davis buildings. The Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford has a similar entry pavilion flanked by towers, and Alumni Hall’s octagonal crenellated towers themselves are echoed in Davis’ design for Tudor Villa in New Rochelle, New York.

Tudor Villa, another Davis building

With all this in mind, I set out to unravel the mystery. I thought perhaps the caption was once a catch-phrase, and tried to look it up, but unfortunately “House of Terror” now has a much darker and more literal meaning than it ever could have then. The kind of terrorism which today has become prevalent underscores the innocence of that day over one hundred years ago.

Some further digging reveals the probable source of the writer’s trepidation. It turns out that Alumni Hall was basically one large room. Written examinations were an innovation in the 1850’s, and term exams were held in Alumni Hall. In fact, some of the original exam tables are still to be seen in the Yale Art Gallery.

Even in the early twentieth century, the typical student at Yale was not always the brilliant scholar type, and we can finally see this photo of Alumni Hall through the anonymous writer’s eyes.

By 1911, its function was largely passé, with more classroom buildings present and likely changes in the exams themselves. Still, it is too bad that no use could be found to preserve this masterpiece by one of the period's and New Haven's most important architects.

A Book Lover’s Open Sesame

About half of my recent haul

 

 

 

I just received a shipment of five hundred books from America to Taiwan. This is an exciting event, giving that child-in-the-candy-store feeling that I want to read this one first, no this one, no this one.

A. Edward Newton wrote about the difficulties of sneaking new books into the home, past his suspicious wife. A favorite trick was to add them to the stack on his nightstand, as though he had just taken them from the shelves, and then later redistribute them.

Usually one just acquires a few books at a time, or perhaps an arm- or box-load, but an influx on this scale changes all the rules. This many books required the purchase of new bookshelves, in turn necessitating the rearrangement of my entire apartment.

If you mix new with existing books, the new ones tend to disappear into the background, and you lose the monolithic quality of your new acquisition. On the other hand, sequestering the new books requires a double organization system, and as you read them you constantly have to reorganize the shelves.

For some reason I always mix up these titles. And yes, those are the Shaker Heights, Ohio Shakers.

 

A few titles caught my eye as I was unpacking them. Court Satires of the Restoration sounds right up my alley, and will go nicely with the Complete Works of William Congreve and of Thomas Shadwell. I have never read a novel by John Masefield, so I am looking forward to his Jim Davis.

To me, the great humorists (let me know whom I have forgotten) are Benchley, Nash, Wodehouse, Perelman and Patrick McManus. The latter is my perhaps my favorite living writer; I dote on his essays, and now I can try out his regular novel, The Double Jack Murders.

Two interesting titles for an oboist and a Clevelander

 

 

Since I bought most of these sight-unseen, a couple turned out to be other than I thought. I am a sucker for any books on pomology or fruit-growing, and I thought that Apples I have Eaten would be filled with Bunyard-like commentary. What I received was a small volume of unaccompanied photos, only the miniscule introduction assuring us, “They were really tasty.”

Winifred Carter’s Dr. Johnson’s ‘Dear Mistress’ turned out to be a historical novel set in the Eighteenth century. Unfortunately, Carter’s style owes more to Elinor Glyn than it does to Dr. Johnson. Here is a sample of her immortal prose:

            Mrs. Salusbury’s voice was almost shrill and her old eyes flashed fire. “I know you want it to squander on the trollop from Drury Lane. Neither shall you have any more of my fine things for such a purpose.”

            John Salusbury frowned impatiently. “Really, Mama, I don’t lie. If I wanted money for the divine Kitty Clive I should say so.”

The whole Johnsonian crowd is here—Boswell, Garrick, Reynolds. She must have done her homework, because not only is Mrs. Thrale present, but Mr. Thrale also. Oh, well.

 

A pleasant surprise was Art Buchwald’s I’ll Always Have Paris. I was expecting just a light read, but the jacket avers these are memoirs of “the dazzling Paris of the late 1940’s and the 1950’s.” I have often read about the mythic Paris of the 1920’s, and so am looking forward to extending my Parisian timetable.

Five hundred is a lot of books, but they will have to suffice for a while. Although I have been accumulating these for two years, and worked hard to ship them, I am now experiencing that delightful Ali Baba moment of wonderful treasures suddenly revealed.

They Always Pick on Me, or a Week in Boarding School, 1878

The Playing Fields of Eton

Sometimes an old document of no great importance gives us a glimpse into another world. Here is a list of demerits earned in 1878 by a student in boarding school named C. Boutelle. I can’t tell you his first name, or what school he attended, or how this report was used—speculation will have to suffice.

Demerits of C. Boutelle

 To save your eyes, I have transcribed this, adding a few comments along the way:

==============================================

Demerits of C. Boutelle

for the week ending Nov. 24 [1878]

            All this in one week! C. Boutelle certainly kept busy!

15  Going away without Permission & not returning till next day    

Here is a real offence, and I am surprised it was handled through the demerit system.

 1   Running down stairs                                                                      

 1   Tardy at bell                                                                                   

 1   Entering schoolroom with hat on                                                    

            Aha! C. Boutelle was a guy.

 1   Feet on Desk                                                                                              

            Ditto!

 4  Impertinent Reply                                                                            

 2  Disrespectful Language                                                                  

            Makes you wonder the difference between impertinent and disrespectful. I would have thought disrespectful to be the greater offence.

 2  Ungentlemanly conduct – Defacing book                                      

            Only 2 demerits??!! Maybe it was just doodling in his textbook.

 1  Disorder in Recitation                                                                     

 1  Tardy at Recess bell                                                                      

            How can you be late for recess? And why is that an offence?

 1  Tardy at Dinner                                                                              

 1  Laughing & Disorder Study hour                                                  

            They would have gotten me on this one all the time!

 1  Disorder in Recitation                                                                          

 2  Impertinent Question                                                                         

 1  Laughing & Disorder Dining table                                                

 1  Not Minding business  

            Benjamin Franklin would not have approved.         

1  Failure in Grammar lesson                                                                         

            Why is this a demerit offence, instead of a grading issue?   

 4  Saucy impertinent language                                                             

            I’m dying to know the difference between Saucy impertinence and regular, garden-variety impertinence.              

 1  Laughing at Table                                                                           

            What a fun school! It sounds like something out of Dickens, or that French boys’ school in Diabolique.

------                                                                            

42    Total                                                                    

===========================================================

Fugio Cent of 1787, designed by Benjamin Franklin

I find it interesting that impertinence (4 demerits) is a worse crime than disruption (1 demerit). Disruption is just a display of animal spirits, so does not reflect on the teacher or the school, but impertinence is insubordination, and shows the awareness and transgression of levels of power.

Modern schools seem to find such nitpicking unnecessary. Phillips Exeter indicated that small offenses are not reported or tallied, because students are on their honor to behave well. Other schools such as Western Reserve Academy impose some sort of detention or study hall after three demerits, but stress that serious offenders on the order of Mr. Boutelle are virtually non-existent.

Going AWOL is now a much more serious and scary offence, and would go right to the top authorities to deal with. Most boarding schools don’t have this problem, because students enjoy school life and are cooperative about the rules. Modern technology and security further help to curb nocturnal wanderings.

C. Boutelle as a boarding-school student conjures up images of P.G. Wodehouse’s early school stories, of Mike and Psmith at Sedleigh. Psmith is too clever for his own good, and feels the rules are not meant for him, while Mike, oblivious of the real world, bumbles or is misled into trouble.

Before you dismiss C. Boutelle as a total goofball, consider his behavior in tandem with his grade report:
  

Grades of C. Boutelle

 

====================================================

Average Standing in Lessons

Marked on a Scale of 10

of C. Boutelle

--- --- ---- ---- --- --- ---

 7 denotes      Fair

 8                   Good

 9                   Excellent

10                   Perfect

           

Grammar            7.50

            We already know of his little contretemps with grammar.       

Philosophy          8.50

Algebra               8.50

Arithmetic           9.

            Studying algebra and arithmetic simultaneously?

History                8.25

Spelling               9.

Reading               8.75

Deportment         6.

            Our Hero manages to fall off the scale!

                          Jas. Bushie

                          Instructor

===================================================

Boutelle was really not such a bad student. His academic average is 8.5, about a B+, pretty good for the era of the “gentleman’s C”.

So what happened? Did Boutelle and Mr. Bushie get into a battle of wills? Since this was apparently a weekly struggle for them, I would think that this constant deluge of demerits would not have been psychologically good for C. Boutelle, and probably reinforced rather than improved his behavior.

Personally, I like his spirit of independence. This report of 1878 places him right between Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884).

I guess the old song was accurate:

School days, school days, dear old golden rule days.

Reading and writing and ‘rithmetic, taught to the tune of a hick’ry stick.

Overall, the discipline doesn’t seem to have repressed C. Boutelle too much. With all the laughing, disorder, and rushing about, I’ll bet he had a great time at boarding school.

Welcome to Parnassus (bis)

For the past several months, I have been exploring with profit and enjoyment the world of blog postings, and have decided to enter the ring with The Road to Parnassus.

This seems an ideal way to share opinions, experiences and even objects with those whose outlooks are complementary, complimentary, or even opposing. Unlike the obdurate Father Day (of Life with Father), I am not seeking an absentee or acquiescent audience—I value your comments and reactions.

Why The Road to Parnassus? In ancient Greece, Mount Parnassus was the spiritual home of the nine muses, and came to symbolize the attainment of culture.  

  That Parnassus crowd, the nine muses--Clio, Thalia, Erato, Euterpe, Polyhymnia, Calliope, Terpsichore, Urania, Melpomene  

Being on the road to Parnassus (Gradus ad Parnassum in Latin) meant acquiring refinement and learning step by step, and the phrase was often used in book titles, such as Muzio Clementi’s 1826 Art of Piano Playing.

  

  

With Parnassus I hope to expand my opinions on whatever is high quality, important, historical, or just plain interesting. In spite of these mountainous allusions, I’ll try not to get too lofty and to retain a modicum of irreverence.

Among the topics I specifically plan to attack are: Architecture and history; Literature and books; Decorum; Antiques and collecting; and the great universities and their constitution.

A native of Cleveland, Ohio, I have been living in Taipei for the past several years. Although this is not primarily a travelogue or ex-pat site, some special features of Taiwan will be considered, as will some of my more intriguing local acquisitions.

The world of Chinese antiques extends beyond jades and porcelains.

  

Welcome to The Road to Parnassus. I hope you will enjoy the content presented; let me know what pleases or displeases you.