Elegant women in elegant gowns, their images set off by delicate lace paper by Mansell or Dobbs: typical valentine cards – or were they? After looking at thousands of British valentines in the John Johnson Collection and the online collections of the Museum of London, it would seem that the answer is ‘not really.’ Certainly there are some, but there are far more examples of flowers and birds, cupids and temples than realistic damsels. Perhaps purchasers fought shy of representing their loved one with a woman with different colour eyes or hair, or surpassing her in beauty. Perhaps the Victorians preferred the symbolism of flowers or the intricate concoctions of lacy elaborate valentines.
The heyday of the Victorian valentine in the 1850s and 1860s coincided with the emergence of the crinoline. Even with ladies of high class, the hooped petticoats were frequently the butt of humour.
Somewhat surprisingly, crinolines were worn by all strata of society – an irresistible temptation to the publishers of ‘comic’ or ‘vinegar valentines. By far the greater number of ‘fashion’ related valentines in the John Johnson Collection are of this type.
Hats and bonnets, parasols, breeches, & rouge all were fair game for the engravers and versifiers of these cruel valentines. Aimed at the lower classes, men reproached women for trying to appear too fine, for falsifying their appearance. The ‘dasher’ of the title is portrayed below, with the lines I’d sooner drown and end my life / Than have a dasher for a wife.’
But men did not escape. The most obvious targets were dandies, fops and swells, or lady-killers!
However caricaturised, however cruel, these vinegar valentines give us as much (or more) insight into the fashion (and language) of the time than the beautiful idealised and idolised elegant maidens of high society.
Both form the subject of our new Pinterest page, in association with the National Valentine Collectors Association (USA) and their wonderful and indefatigable President, Nancy Rosin.
In July 2016, we announced the (gradual) acquisition of John Sayers’ extensive and international collection of Ocean Liner ephemera and posted an interview with the donor. This update gives information about the ephemera received to January 2017.
Encompassing postcards, advertisements, brochures, menus, deck plans, baggage labels, regulations, newspapers printed on board ship, and more substantial publications, the Sayers Collection charts the history of a wide variety of ocean liners, both in peace time and during both world wars.
John has an unerring eye for the interesting detail, and we are publishing on this blog numerous posts and articles he has written about the diverse information contained in this fascinating collection.
The collection is meticulously organised and presented. In due course parts of it will be catalogued at an item level, thanks to the generosity of John and Judith Sayers. Meanwhile, we are posting on the John Johnson Collection website indexes of the binders so far received. The following is a list of the categories we currently hold, with links to any related blog posts.
As regular readers of this blog will know, John Sayers is kindly donating his superb Ocean Liner Ephemera Collection to the John Johnson Collection. Groups of material arrive several times a year, always generating excitement here! Tranche #5 of the Sayers Collection includes a folder of ephemera relating to the Royal Naval Review at Spithead in 1935. An engaging and prolific author, John has sent us a blog post to accompany the material.
In July, 1935, there was a Royal Naval Review at Spithead to celebrate the Silver Jubilee of King George V, after 25 years as Britain’s reigning monarch. Part of this archive is from a person – unknown – who sailed on Cunard’s RMS Berengaria for a special three-day excursion to watch the Review.
The archive includes menus, descriptions of the proceedings, and a Passenger List which included Rudyard Kipling (and Mrs. Kipling), the Parnell sisters (the Hon. Mary, the Hon. Jean and the Hon. Sheila), and a number of other prominent figures with the surnames Wills (cigarettes), Doxford (marine engines), Brocklebank (Shipping), Mosely (Mrs. Oswald), and a host of minor nobility. The center pages of the Official Programme show the ships and their relative positions on the periphery of the Review area.
Another part of the archive is from a passenger on Cunard’s RMS Lancastria, which also offered a 3-day cruise to enjoy the festive experience. It appears that this archive was saved by Miss P. Langston-Jones, who travelled on the cruise with her sister. Their Passenger list contained a slightly lower stratum of the society of the era.
Little did the enthusiastic passengers on the Berengaria, the Lancastria, and the other participating liners realize that this event marked a watershed in British history. Only six months later – in January, 1936 – King George V died; in that same month famous novelist Rudyard Kipling died; less than three years after this sailing, the Berengaria was ravaged by a fire and was scrapped; RMS Lancastria was sunk less than 5 years later with the loss of over 3,000 lives; and in 1941, some 5 years later, the Battleship HMS Hood, pride of the British Navy, was sunk in action against the German battleship Bismarck with a terrible loss of life.
Other British and foreign passenger vessels provided excursions to the event, including RMS Homeric (retired from service just 2 months after the Review); RMS Warwick Castle (torpedoed and sunk in 1942); RMS Viceroy of India (torpedoed and sunk in 1942); and SS Arandora Star (torpedoed and sunk in 1940).
(From The Sayers Collection at The John Johnson Collection, Bodleian Library. Ephemera of this event is also contained in the Royal Mail Line binders in the Collection.)
We are delighted to have another post from John relating to his wonderful donation of the Sayers Collection of Ocean Liner Ephemera. This one relates to a fascinating archive within the collection.
It’s exciting to find new ephemera for your collection. It’s even more exciting when you find two or more items. It’s most exciting when you find an entire archive that helps to put together all those individual pieces of the puzzle.
An archive of material gives you more background to the cards and ephemera, but it can also tell you something about the people who were part of the experience. Let’s be more specific. Suppose that you found a cache of material from a house clearance when you were shopping at the annual Madison-Bouckville Antique Week in New York State in August.
In this case, it was ephemera from a 1930 cruise on the Canadian Pacific liner Duchess of Bedford. The material had come from a house in Rochester, NY, and the vendor was offering the entire pile of ‘stuff ‘ for sale en bloc. If he hadn’t specialized in house clearances, he would probably have broken up the material and packaged and sold the items separately or in small groups.
There were De Muth postcards (Figures 1,2), ship’s daily newsletters, menus, farewell greeting cards, letters and envelopes, and a number of other items of ephemera, which all packaged separately would have commanded a total price considerably higher than what I paid for the entire lot. What would have been worse is that dispersing those components to separate buyers would have destroyed many things that this collection tells us about cruising in 1930, and the people who took those cruises.
You probably have a number of friends who have taken cruises to exotic destinations. That’s today. In 1930, cruising was not so common, and to take a cruise was to make a statement about your financial health and your sophistication. Your friends would have been so impressed that they would have mailed Bon Voyage greetings to you, such as the three examples pictured (Figures 3-5) with distinctly different designs.
The cards are delightful and the artwork is sweet. But if the archive had been broken up, you would have been competing with collectors of greeting cards. A particularly scarce trophy is probably the Welcome Home card in Figure 6. Nice artwork – and how many people would send a card to welcome someone home when they could telephone them or maybe even see them on the street in town.
It’s not only the greeting cards that would have been a crossover collectible. Some people out there collect telegrams and their attractive artwork. So to buy the envelope in Figure 7, and the message inside, you might have had to compete with a collector of telegrams.
All this shows that the couple taking the cruise had a number of sophisticated friends who were impressed enough by the occasion to buy and mail some very nice greeting cards, and even to send a telegram.
We can also guess that the husband was a stamp or cover collector. One of
their friends sent the letter and cover in Figure 8 with the comment, “We hope you are enjoying your trip, thought you would like an air mail letter for a remembrance of your trip.” Ironically, it appears that the letter did not get to Curacao in time, and it was returned back to the sender in Rochester! Nice stamps.
The Duchess of Bedford went into service in 1928, so in 1930 she was a very modern ship by the standards of the day. At some 20,000 tons she was not large, but comparable in size to the Cunard vessels that were her competition. She is pictured on a Real Photo card (Figure 9), printed in England, but with no indication of the publisher.
Letters En Route
Several letters were sent to the couple while they were on their cruise. There is an undercurrent of envy in some of the letters (which underscores just how prestigious a trip such as this would have been) including one that includes “Laura is now down the cellar putting some coal in the furnace and you lucky sons of guns are down in Bermuda, sweating I suppose. It was 4 above zero here yesterday morning and to-day it is raining.”
Clearly the travelers sent out some of the De Muth postcards, because one of the letters they received notes, “Received your card from Port de France. Glad to know you are having such a wonderful time.” The De Muth postcards carry strong and unconventional travel images.
Many of the comments emphasize the winter. “Emma & Frank, Bill & I were on the toboggan last night, it sure was great. Bill got rammed in the rear end (I mean his car) by a bus.” Sounds like Northern New York State roads were in their usual treacherous winter condition!
This trip was played out in the environment which followed Black Monday on Wall Street and the accompanying stock market crash and financial meltdown. Had our travellers prepaid their trip before the meltdown took place? Would they be coming back to a personal financial disaster? We can’t tell from this material, but we can get a feel for the world financial crisis which must have cast a cloud over their vacation. One issue of the ship’s daily newspaper carries the story that “Several hours before he was to set sail for Europe, Herbert Martin, wealthy business man, fell or jumped to his death from his apartment window to Park Avenue, nine floors below.” Maybe from a bad day on the stock market?
On another day, we read that “William Fox and all other officers and directors of the Fox Film Corporation and Fox Theatres Corporation have offered to resign in an effort to avert the threatened receivership; but the creditors declined to accept their conditional offer.”
Yet another issue of the daily Canadian Pacific Wireless News includes the report that “The Local Government of Chicago is in financial distress and has failed in an attempt to float bond issues. It is feared the schools will have to close.” Imagine being on a month-long cruise with this – and other financial distress stories – being part of every day’s news.
We have seen the Welcome Home card. Other letters offer to pick the couple up at the train station if they can advise of their timing. Clearly they had a strong support group of friends.
One final thrill from an archive such as this is that it is a potential genealogical gold mine. There are names – lots of names – and communications from all these people in Rochester, New York. If I had only the De Muth postcards, or just a batch of daily ship’s newspapers, or merely a collection of menus, there would be only one window on this trip. This group has more historical color than a stained glass window. So even if you collect only one type of ephemera, when you can find a comprehensive archive like this – go for it!
John G. Sayers has completed 9 years on the Board of The Ephemera Society of America, and 7 years on the Council of the British Ephemera Society. He has been a keen collector for many years, and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.All images are from the Sayers Collection at the Johnson Collection.
Not only is John Sayers giving his collection to the Bodleian Library, but each tranche of his donation is accompanied by articles on specific types of ephemera or individual items. His notes on menus attached to postcards provide fascinating insights into a little-known genre of ephemera.
It is relatively easy to find menu postcards from shipping lines – a brilliant marketing concept in which the traveler is given a menu and on the back is the address side of a postcard. On ships, these were generally for the lower classes of passengers.
If you travelled on the Baltic of the White Star Line on August 22, 1910 (PM80A) your Second Class Dinner Menu would offer you the challenge of making decisions regarding Kidney Soup; Hake with Parsley Sauce; Beefsteak Pie; or Roast Mutton. To the collector with a developed sense of culinary delights, the offerings in this menu may not be very impressive. No caviar. No smoked salmon. No lobster. No elegant pâté. And no hint of foie gras.
Those highlights certainly appeared on menus of those travelling in First (a.k.a. Saloon or Cabin) Class. However, to put the situation into context, if you were migrating to North America from crop failures in Europe, potato famine in Ireland, or subsistence living in a large British city, these menus would seem like a king’s feast.
The back of this card carries the announcement that “The Largest Steamers in the World” are being built, and refers specifically to Olympic and Titanic “Each 45,000 tons”. Yes there was room for a brief message, but the primary objective was to promote the line and its services, while presenting the menu for the meal.
For several years I was attracted at postcard shows by beautiful artist-drawn cards of the North German Lloyd shipping line (PM80B) and the Red Star Line, with the name of a ship and a date in the early 1900s. Being an ocean liner collector I bought them, but couldn’t solve the puzzle of why the shipping line would have put a date on them. The name of the ship – yes. The date that the card was obtained – no, why would they do that?
The problem was solved after many years when my wife, Judith, and I found three postcards with menus attached below them at a vintage paper display at the vast antiques fair in Brimfield, Massachusetts. These were from the Red Star Line, a creator of some beautiful cards a century ago. At the top – a detachable postcard. Below – the menu for a meal on a particular date on board the ship.
With this format, the two worlds came together. Since then we have found more menu/postcard combinations of the Red Star Line, plus White Star, Cunard, North German Lloyd, NYK, and some minor lines. These are not common. When one has found only some 70 examples in 40 years of collecting, while searching at fairs in Canada, the U.S.A. and the U.K., it is reasonable to say that they are scarce
For the shipping collector, the synergies are blatantly obvious. But why collect these as a postcard collector? First, they represent the way that the postcards first appeared – attached to a menu. Second, they establish the place where the postcards were acquired – a dining room on a particular date on a specific ship. How many postcards (artist-drawn, shipping, or otherwise) provide this type of provenance unless they have been posted and have a clear cancellation?
Finally, and in many ways the most important feature, the combination shows that the postcard alone is in some cases missing a significant part of the artwork’s image. The most extreme example is a 1920 Xmas Dinner card and menu of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company (PM80C).
When you look at the illustration, you can see that having the postcard alone would tell only part of the artist’s story. The beautiful garden would be cut off, the lower Geisha girl would be chopped in half, and the balance of the picture – the entire effect of the garden trailing into the shipping line logo – would be missing. Who would want an artist-drawn card with a piece of the artwork missing?
For the ephemera enthusiast, these have the delight of carrying the menu for a meal on board ship, with the specificity of the date and the name of the ship, and in many instances excellent artwork, signed in many cases by the artist such as Cassiers working for the Red Star Line and Tivo for the North German Lloyd.
Of course, you wouldn’t know that you were missing part of the image. If you weren’t alerted before you read this report, you now know to scrutinize postcards for: (i) the name of the ship and a date printed in black; (ii) an image that seems to have been cut off (i.e. it looks like it might bleed beyond the lower edge of the card); and (iii) the lower edge of the card is not clean-cut (these cards were generally perforated or otherwise scored, and detaching them would not have left a clean edge). You may also find that the card is smaller than the normal card size, where the perforations did not hit the right place on the initial sheet.
We haven’t found many of these at postcard shows. Our experience shows that you are much more likely to find them at an ephemera fair, categorized under ‘Menus’. It makes some sense, because a postcard dealer offers postcard collections, generally coming from an estate. His or her protective sleeves and display boxes are designed for the dimensions of postcards, and these postcard/menu combinations do not fit into a conventional postcard display.
A first-cousin, as it were, to these postcard/menu combinations is a full-page menu designed so that it can be folded in three panels with space on the back for an addressee on one panel, and room for a brief letter on the other panels. This format is represented in the President Jackson and President Wilson examples in PM 78 and PM79. There are other examples elsewhere in the Collection, notably in the menus of the NYK Line of Japan, contained in that section.
This style of menu and message combination appears to be confined to the Pacific Ocean passenger liner fleets of both Japan and the United States. As with the postcard variety, the objectives of the shipping line were to facilitate the passenger sending messages about his or her trip, to give those passengers an activity for their spare time during the long voyage, and most importantly to promote the shipping line and whet the recipients’ appetites for ocean travel.
These postcard and letter card variants might not appeal to a narrowly-focused postcard collector. That postcard collector would face the prospect of having to acquire A4 or 8 ½ x 11-inch acid-free sleeves and put these trophies in a separate 3-ring binder as Menu Cards, or merge them in the same type of sleeve in the body of a Menu collection. From personal experience, postcard/menu combinations in a dedicated binder could be fairly sparse for the first 20 or so years!