Figure 1: The front of a 1922 brochure for Lee County, Florida. Binder 31, Item 904, Florida Ephemera Collection, P.K. Yonge Library of Florida History.
When I first started researching within the Smathers Library’s Special and Area Studies Collections, I was instantly drawn to the many materials from the early twentieth century advertising the sale of Florida land to potential investors. It was during the 1920s that Florida experienced its land boom, which redefined the state’s place in the Union. The materials available on this topic include travel brochures, hotel pamphlets, agricultural newspapers, and many more.
Due to the wide availability of materials, I decided that I must narrow down my research. Now, I am researching the same topic, but within southwest Florida (the part of the state I am from) during the 1920s, the decade when migration to Florida was at its height.
Small brochures like the one above (see Figure 1) were of special interest to me. This brochure and other similar materials had common themes when advertising Florida to a national audience. These themes give insight into what qualities of Florida, and the southwest region, were worth marketing. The most prominent themes were climate, the “healing powers” of the region, business opportunities, and culture in southwest Florida. This culture was one of a highly protestant Christian community with men from “almost every state in the Union and many European countries” and one of the best school systems in the state.
Figure 2: Figure 2: A 1919 advertisement for Florida land in The Florida Planter. F338.1 F6363, P.K. Yonge Library of Florida History.
A newspaper excerpt from the August 1919 issue of The Florida Planter displays an advertisement from the Iona Fruit and Trucking Company (see Figure 2). This piece represents a quality of southwest Florida deemed worthy of national marketing, which was echoed statewide: the promise of money. The business opportunities in Florida were consistently front and center in advertising to potential investors. Whether “big money” always came to the ambitious investor did not dissuade the countless promises of business success that were rampant in 1920s advertisements.
Figure 3: Figure 3: An image of First Street in a 1920s brochure for the Franklin Arms Hotel. Binder 172, Item 3942, Florida Ephemera Collection, P.K. Yonge Library of Florida History.
The above view of Fort Myers’ First Street, lined with palm trees, is found within a brochure for the Franklin Arms Hotel. Fort Myers is nicknamed the “City of Palms” for its many palm trees, which have become synonymous with the city. The palm tree is found in the city’s crest, the annual high school basketball tournament held there is called the City of Palms Classic, and palm trees still line every street in downtown Fort Myers. This street is renowned today for its towering palm trees, and the drive down it is very scenic. To 1920s Fort Myers citizens, the street had the same allure. To the Franklin Arms Hotel, the street meant more, becoming a recurring motif in its brochures.
Figure 4: Brochure for the Franklin Arms Hotel. Binder 172, Item 3942, Florida Ephemera Collection, P.K. Yonge Library of Florida History
Figure 1: Bob Campbell collage. Materials from Box 10, Folder 3, Bob Campbell Papers, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida.
My fellowship in UF’s Department of Special and Area Studies Collections centered on the Bob Campbell Papers, a remarkably varied archive documenting Campbell’s photographic work and his collaboration with Dian Fossey at the Karisoke Research Center in Rwanda (1968–1972). Campbell is best known for capturing on film the historic first, peaceful close encounters between humans and mountain gorillas. His collection extends far beyond the images circulated in National Geographic, however. Working with his original materials meant learning to navigate a constellation of formats—each offering a different way of seeing, remembering, and interpreting Fossey’s groundbreaking research.
Figure 2: An action shot of Fossey in her pajamas playing with orphan gorillas Coco and Pucker. Box 6, Folder 1, Bob Campbell Papers.
I began, as many researchers now do, in the digital library: clean, easily searchable, and neatly described. But engaging with the physical collection quickly complicated my initial sense of clarity. The film slides and negatives feel almost alive —small, fragile objects that must be held up to the light and viewed closely, often with magnification. They reveal not only a moment captured but the labor behind them and their use: scratched frames, underexposed shots, and intimate images of Fossey never intended for publication.
Figure 3: Figure 3: Campbell’s daybook entry dated November 19th, 1969 reading “Dian in a Foul Mood.” Box 15, Folder 6 , Bob Campbell Papers.
Campbell’s day books introduce a different rhythm altogether. Dense with weather notes, equipment failures, and the quiet repetition of fieldwork, these journals evoke the pulse of isolated daily life in the mountains at Karisoke. Loose transcript pages and field notes add yet another register: hurried handwriting, crossed‑out observations, and the immediacy of someone trying to capture a thought before it fades forever. Fossey identified the silverbacks she knew by the snowflake‑like patterns of their noses. On the page, Campbell’s drawn recreations of these nose‑prints offer a striking counterpoint to his photographs. They are less polished, more personal, and deeply tied to the labor of getting to know the individual animal.
Figure 4: Figure 4: An example of how composition, timing, and finish can elevate a scene from documentary record to magazine-ready image. Seen together, they illuminate the fine line between almost and arrived. Box 14, folder 1, Bob Campbell Papers.
Sitting behind much of this material is National Geographic, a magazine that peaked at twelve-million subscriptions in the decade following Campbell’s work, and whose editorial framing transformed his working photographs into cultural touchstones. Working in the archive, the slides feel utilitarian, like they are part of an ongoing process. In print, they became symbols of intimacy, danger, and scientific heroism. That shift has made me think more critically about selection, format, and context: how an image changes when it moves from the contact sheet to a magazine spread, and how editorial choices along the way shape the stories we inherit about Fossey, Campbell, and the gorillas themselves. Taken together, these materials resist any single narrative. Moving among several formats showed me how memory—both personal and cultural—is shaped by repetition, context, and the stories we tell around an image. As I continue working through these materials, I keep coming back to my initial question: what happens to our understanding of Fossey’s work when we look beyond perfected magazine covers and engage with the messier, repetitive, but also more candid traces of fieldwork that rarely make it into public view?
Figure 1: Detail of the map “Island of the City of Goa.” Lourenço, Miguel Rodrigues, Susana Bastos Mateus, and Carla Vieira. The Trial of Catarina de Orta by the Goa Inquisition. Translated by Jeremy Roe. Margao, Goa, India: Under the Peepal Tree, 2024
As a Discovery Fellow with the Price Library of Judaica, I am exploring the life and trials of Catarina de Orta, a converso Jewish woman whose persecution during the Goa Inquisition offers a rare glimpse into the experiences of New Christians in sixteenth-century India. When I first began studying the Portuguese Inquisition in Goa this past year, I wanted to understand its ideological justification. In examining those origins, I became drawn to exploring the consequences of bringing the Inquisition to converted Jews (known as conversos) suspected of adhering to Judaism.
Catarina was the sister of Garcia de Orta, a Portuguese physician and scholar whose medical expertise initially protected him from the Inquisition, which began in 1560. However, his family’s converso background eventually led to his posthumous burning, where his remains were dug up and incinerated one year after his death. Alongside her brother, Catarina was tried and executed in 1569. I began my research curious about how the siblings’ cases differed. How was Catarina questioned? What could she have said or done that resulted in her auto-da-fé? The auto-da-fé, which translates to “act of faith,” was a religious spectacle in which the accused was formally sentenced. This fate was often death, and in Caterina’s case, it would be through her burning at the stake.
One of the earliest surprises was the sheer number of trials Catarina underwent. There were 28 hearings overall, split into stages, including five hearings conducted after the auto-da-fé. For the fellowship, I chose to explore Catarina’s first nine hearings.
I was intrigued by how much of her interrogation drew on her Jewish past. After converting, Caterina maintained the Jewish fast and Sabbath simply because they were innate parts of her past life. Evidently, the Portuguese Inquisition expected immediate adherence to Christian practices; otherwise, any suspicion would be justified.
Figure 2: Copy of the amounts paid to Inquisition officers. Phillip II. Relación de la orden y manera de proceder del Santo Officio… de la Inquisición, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida, Gainesville, Florida.
Discovering the standard procedures and the question types of the trials was a fascinating part of my journey. In these suspicious attitudes towards her former customs, I found sentiments of purity of blood (limpieza de sangre), where a convert’s lineage automatically suggested a fragility in their Christian faith. Purity of blood was an obsessive concern of the Portuguese Tribunal, which held that even after conversion, a person’s non-Christian ancestry permanently marked their identity. Therefore, conversos like Caterina were never fully accepted as Christians, regardless of their actions or evidence of faith. Using the Price Library’s collections, I expanded my exploration to Inquisitions elsewhere.
Figure 3: Figure 3: Copy of how the Inquisition room should be marked. Phillip II. Relación de la orden y manera de proceder del Santo Officio… de la Inquisición, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida, Gainesville, Florida.
An 18th-century copy of an official Inquisition document from 16th-century Spain outlined the standard pay for Tribunal officials, the exact punishments for sinners, as well as engravings of the cross and shields that were required to be present in each Inquisition room (see figures 2-3). These findings reflect the formulaic, almost robotic essence of the Inquisition and fundamentally shifted my questions. I plan to continue my study of Catarina’s 28 trials, while asking the following questions: In what ways did limpieza de sangre statutes function as a mechanism for racializing religious identity? To what extent was the Portuguese Inquisition a centralized, uniform institution versus a collection of locally adapted tribunals?
Figure 1: John Ashton, Real Sailor-Songs. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1891
I was ecstatic to receive this fellowship and the opportunity to examine texts from the Harold and Mary Jean Hanson Rare Book Collection and the Baldwin Library of Historical Children’s Literature. With a burgeoning passion for maritime history, I had one goal in mind: to dive into the sources and see what was available on this topic. Utilizing the online catalogue, I began exploring special collections with any keyword related to maritime history that I could think of to find items of interest.
Quickly, I discovered a plethora of 18th and 19th-century books and sources that advertised and romanticized British sailors and naval life. I began by examining short stories and books related to the Royal Navy, especially those written for children. In the 19th century, the Royal Navy was at its zenith, possessing the largest fleet in the world and undisputed naval dominance following the Napoleonic Wars. This period was arguably one of the most aggressively imperial eras of the British Empire.
Interestingly, most of the sources I found on this topic were geared toward young boys, and focused on religious, moral tales of young sailors and emphasized an adventurous spirit. While these tales were located all over the globe, very few elaborated on the places themselves. Instead, these works focused on the proper behavior of young sailors, including religious actions and thoughts, moral duty, and proper manners. Many of these works were published by the Religious Tract Society, which explains its purpose, yet manuals, published by former naval officers, followed the same format.
Figure 2: Richard Marks, The Shipmates: An Evening Conversation. London: W. Clowes and Sons, n.d.
While searching the catalogue, I also came across Mare Clausum, a treatise written in 1635 that evaluated the extent to which nations could claim sovereignty over the sea. It argued that previous empires had successfully claimed dominion over the seas (though only to the extent that they could control such a large expanse), which made it possible for the British Empire to do the same. While not necessarily romanticizing the Royal Navy, sources such as these provide context for intellectual ideas dominating the British Isles.
Figure 3: John Selden, James Howell, and Marchamont Nedham. Mare Clausum; the Right and Dominion of the Sea in Two Books. London: Andrew Kembe and Edward Thomas, 1663.
Comparing these presentations of the Royal Navy in political theory and adventure literature shows that the British Empire justified its dominance in the British Isles by positioning itself as a moral authority. Moving forward, I hope to explore additional written forms and genres to deepen my understanding of how the Royal Navy was depicted. Specifically, how did this representation translate the role of the Royal Navy in British imperial power to public audiences, especially young children, in the British Isles?
We are happy to present the members of the sixth cohort of Undergraduate Discovery Fellows! This semester, we’re pleased to welcome four new fellows to the collections. You’ll hear more about their projects on this blog over the course of the semester, but for now, we’re excited to introduce them to the collections and to each other.
Timothy Dillehay (’28)
White Discovery Fellow
Timothy aims to examine how, through various commodified goods, Floridians were able to facilitate the creation of a new Floridian identity for both a state and national audience.
Liya Johny (’27)
Price Library of Judaica Undergraduate Discovery Fellow
Liya is exploring the life and trial of Catarina de Orta, a converso woman whose persecution during the Goa Inquisition offers a rare glimpse into the experiences of New Christians in sixteenth-century India.
Chloe “Ces” Swinton (’27)
Madelyn Lockhart Undergraduate Discovery Fellow
Ces is exploring how celebrity, conservation, and storytelling intersect in the visual and textual materials of the Bob Campbell and Dian Fossey collection.
Emma Taintor (’29)
Joseph and Rebecca White Undergraduate Discovery Fellow
Emma is investigating the romanticism of seafaring, the navy, and exploration throughout the British Isles in the 19th century as well as its effects on youth through literature.
Applications are now open for next Spring’s cohort of Discovery Fellows in Special Collections. Our fellows work closely with mentors in the libraries to turn their interest into a research question or project that they can pursue and receive a $500 stipend upon completion of the fellowship. Our previous fellows have worked across our collections of books, archives, and small, ephemeral publications.
Join us on Wednesday, October 8th, at 3:30 PM in Smathers Room 100 or on Zoom for an information session to learn more about the Discovery Fellowship and to talk over questions about the application process. For those attending in person, we should also be able to discuss how your interests might be found in the collections.
If you can’t attend the information session, please feel free to contact Bridget Bihm-Manuel (bmbm@ufl.edu) or Betsy Bemis (ehbemis@ufl.edu) with questions about the fellowship. Applications are due by November 3rd at 5:00PM.
For the third year in a row, our Discovery Fellows have concluded the program by giving a five-minute presentation about their topic, which included the research questions they developed over the course of the semester and how they would begin to answer the question if they were to continue their research. As in previous years, the talks were well attended and included members of the Department of Special and Area Studies Collections, fellows from previous cohorts, and friends of the presenters.
Here is a brief overview of their presentations and a bit of information about their future plans.
Catherine Smith, Children’s Books and Public Health
I am a second-year public health major with minors in medical geography and pathogenesis. I am a hopeful epidemiologist who wants to focus on containing the spread of infectious disease. As a public health major, I am deeply passionate about the intersection between health and the humanities. I am also fascinated by the connection between the stories we tell and how they impact the health of those who are still growing. Because of these interests, I specifically wanted to focus on studying children’s literature through the Baldwin Collection at the University of Florida.
At first, I had a hard time figuring out which disease I wanted to explore. Under my mentor’s guidance I transitioned to a topic that I was little more familiar with, puberty. I wanted to understand how books of the past taught children about this topic. I found books such as The Girl’s Own Indoor Book and What a Young Woman Ought to Know. Both books were written in the late 1800s and were meant for a wealthier audience as they discussed the gathering of ‘important skills’ such as party planning and lace making.
As I began to explore later books about puberty, Ifound the book, What’s Happening to My Body? A Growing Up Guide for Mothers and Daughters,which was written in 1983 by Lynda Madaras. It was fascinating to see how books about puberty began to escape a religiously dominated narrative. Rather, they focused on more current social issues such as stress, sexuality, and body positivity.
As I am wrapping up my time with the Discovery Fellowship, I hope to continue to explore how the humanities and health are intertwined. How we write and teach our children about issues greatly impacts on how they think on these topics later in life. I hope to continue my project by exploring other ways that children’s books can break the stigma around disease such as revisiting my original topic on the discussion of AIDS/HIV. However, I would love to keep exploring my topic of women’s health at the intersection of other subjects such as religion and politics.
Alexander Peterson, University of Florida Student Government
I am a History and Classical Studies double major, minoring in Anthropology. From the moment I got to campus, I was enthralled by the almost overwhelming presence of the Student Government. Because of the inherent tie between student life and history at UF, I wanted to pose the question: has there been any strong national political identities within our student government throughout its history?
I initially went to the University Archives and pulled Student Government authorizations—senate funding approvals for student organizations and services—from 1985-2012. I was looking for looking for a direct link between national politics and student government politics, such as funding of certain political student organizations or events. However, in the 1988 folder I discovered a very interesting document: an authorization detailing 40 plus student senators asking the Student Government’s Supreme Court at University of Florida allow them not to validate the elections and to investigate the results of the election of the Spring 1988 Student Government elections. This document pushed me to look in other directions within the University Archives. I was able to see how a party that had won an election, a landslide of thousands of votes, was able to be toppled by a seemingly random group of disgruntled engineers and other organizations. In addition to identifying the immediate causes behind this result, I was also able to uncover many of the deeper sources of dissent and political upheaval that shaped this particular year.
Looking ahead, my goal is to continue expanding this research. I will look at other local newspapers, along with campaign materials, which will both be essential for further contextualization. I will also be conducting interviews with those previously involved in Student Government, reading more on Florida’s political history, and doing more research on Student Government at UF. My aim is to develop a larger project that could lead to a published paper or an honors thesis.
Josie Domitrovic, The Partition of Poland Through Maps
I have been utilizing the Map and Imagery Library to study the Partitions of Poland and their aftermath. I first became interested in this topic last year while making an art portfolio based on some of my family’s traditions and history, which included a map showing the town my great-grandfather was from when it was under Austro-Hungarian rule. This piqued my interest in learning more about Poland’s partitions, history of foreign rule, and how this history has been depicted on maps.
In this fellowship, I have looked through atlases and various maps to see how
names for cities and regions in Poland were depicted after the partitions. They reveal how language was used as a tool to assert the authority of new ruling powers as well as removing linguistic signifiers of the erased Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Certain maps in the library contain historical regional names that are no longer used. In addition to maps, the Price Library of Judaica has been helpful to learn about the
history of Polish towns that once had large Jewish populations. These towns reveal an added layer to Poland’s partitions in that the Jewish population in the areas Russia took over faced additional discrimination and had to reside in certain places.
My research into this topic has left me wanting to learn more, specifically about how
language shown on maps was employed by rulers and affected individuals. How did partitioning and changing the names of areas in Poland impact the people living there? And how did Poland’s experience compare to other areas of the world that have also been partitioned?
Jonathan Polanco, Blind Accessibility and Advocacy
When I started my research with the Discovery Fellowship program, I was initially drawn to exploring how built environments have changed over time to accommodate people with blindness or low vision. But then I found a relatively new collection for Smathers Special Collections: the Tim Lawrence Papers. Tim Lawrence was a Hollywood concept artist who worked on many famous projects like Thriller and Ghostbusters. But what attracted my attention wasn’t his Hollywood fame, it was his work with the Jacksonville Zoo and the Conservation Arts program. Lawrence used his skills to cast life-size bronze models of animals, allowing blind and visually impaired visitors to “see” these animals with their hands. Due to lack of funding, the program came to a halt. As Lawrence put it, there was no financial return, just the “satisfaction of participation.” This statement truly made me think. How could something so powerful and inclusive not receive support? That question stuck with me and guided me to the next phase of my research: what are we doing here at UF for our students?
For visually impaired students, UF doesn’t currently provide tactile maps. Instead, students rely on online maps. Indoor navigation depends on braille signage, walking canes, or seeing eye dogs. For classes and exams, the DRC does a phenomenal job, brailling all required materials. UF also partners with the Division of Blind Services, pairing students with accessibility and Orientation & Mobility specialists who help with the transition to college life. When it comes to extracurriculars and campus events, the DRC works closely with student organizations to ensure accessibility. Still, there are no adaptive sports currently offered on campus, though in the past there were events like wheelchair basketball.
This research has been eye-opening. It revealed holes in the system; ways that blind and low-vision individuals are still being left behind and marginalized. But most of all, this experience has changed me. Before coming into this program, I had my mind set on a career in medicine. Now, I’m seriously considering an M.D./J.D. program. I want to be a doctor, but I also want to be an advocate. Being able to practice both law and medicine will allow me to not only provide the best care to my patients but also help me advocate for them directly with legislators and make sure that every person is seen, heard, and empowered.
Kalyna Dugar, From Grimm to Gold
Ever since childhood, I have had a passionate attachment to Disney Channel Original shows and movies. However, when I rewatched my beloved shows and movies with a more mature lens, I wondered how I could have missed the blatant instances of toxicity in both platonic and romantic relationships without a resolution. Was this toxicity always enrooted in children’s media? Pursuing the Baldwin Library of Historical Children’s Literature collections furthered my understanding of historical mainstream children’s entertainment and their impact on society.
At the commencement of my research, I assumed that fairy tales were first created for children for entertainment. However, after gathering background information found outside the Balwin collection, I learned that folklore and literary fairy tales were intended for a mature audience, not children. This newfound information shifted my attention to why fairy tales moved toward children and families. With the Grimm Brothers being at the forefront, there were economic and financial implications of why the fairy tales were being altered for child audiences and how they exploited that demand. My initial instinct was to take a modern economic approach: anything is more likely to be bought when it appeals to multiple physical senses. However, The Grimm’s Household Tales, edited and partly translated by Marian Edwards in 1912, had the components of a bible with minimal illustrations and no color.
However, comparing the different editions of the Grimm Brothers, I found that illustrators included colorful watercolor pictures and graphics that were more appealing to the eye, steering away from the bible aesthetic.
Since then, my mentor and I have been analyzing illustrations of children’s books and how they can carry the story that words cannot convey. The illustrations have the capability to represent cultures and values. I have also taken an interest in the progression of the printing press and the associated technology.
My observations of the economic principles, social norms, and children’s literature spark future questions about how historical cultural movements, like the Victorian Era, shifted children’s literature and views on childhood. I would like to further expand on the economic implications of children’s literature and the criteria needed to succeed in the industry. I would also like to dive deeper into the relationship between the author, illustrator, and publishing company and how that influenced the products made. I think that with historical children’s literature, many have seen the philosophical ideologies of fairy tales and folklore; however, the monetary implications are yet to be seen.
Figure 1: Charles Peters, The Girl’s Own Indoor Book, J. B. Lippincott Company, 1888. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, University of Florida.
As a public health major, I find the intersection between health and history to be incredibly fascinating. One topic that I have always wanted to explore is how women’s reproductive health has been discussed in the past. As I began to explore the archives, I came across a variety of books focused on what to do when a girl ‘becomes of age’ They reminded me of the books that I read as a girl, such as The Care & Keeping of You. As a result, I have started to study the role that nineteenth and twentieth-century children’s books have in generating expectations for girls entering womanhood.
Due to my public health focus, I spent a lot of time examining these books for information on topics like menstruation, puberty, and overall health tips. A lot of the language in these writings often portray girls as fragile and prone to illnesses such as anemia and heat sickness (see Figure 1). Moreover, they discussed how to treat period-related symptoms such as cramps and constipation (see Figure 2).
Figure 2: Mary Wood-Easter, What a Young Woman Ought to Know, The Vir Publishing Company, 1898. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, University of Florida.
I was most surprised by the additional skills that girls were encouraged to learn prior to becoming a full-fledged woman of society. For example, they were expected to know how to play an instrument, how to paint, how to stitch, and to be well educated in most subjects (see Figure 3). I think it is important to highlight that most of these works targeted a wealthier audience, as they had time to develop such skills and could afford to purchase these books. When examining the class divide, marrying for societal advancement was most likely more at the forefront for wealthier women.
Figure 3: Charles Peters, The Girl’s Own Indoor Book, J. B. Lippincott Company, 1888. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, University of Florida.
When talking about puberty, one thing discussed at great length was the idea of a connection between religion and coming of age. For example, Dr. Mary Putnam from What a Young Woman Ought to Know claimed that since “sex is God’s divinest gift to humanity,” going through menstruation is a blessing and since he is a kind God, cramps are not his fault.
I hope to continue exploring the archives to understand more about this vastly interesting time in every person’s life. I want to focus on how children’s literature can discuss coming-of-age topics such as puberty through literature in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. These writings explore how we think about this natural progress and its impact on the raising of future generations.
Figure 1: Nineteenth century map of the Austrian Empire. J. H. Colton and A. J. Johnson, Johnson’s New Illustrated Family Atlas of the World with Descriptions. Johnson and Ward, 1862.
My name is Josie Domitrovic, and I have been utilizing the Map and Imagery Library to study the Partitions of Poland and their aftermath. I first became interested in this topic last year while learning more about my ancestors from Poland. I was making an art portfolio based on some of my family’s traditions and history, which included a map showing the town my great-grandfather was from when it was under Austro-Hungarian rule. This piqued my interest in learning more about Poland’s partitions, history of foreign rule, and how this history has been depicted on maps.
The late eighteenth-century partitions of Poland ended the existence of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth as well as an independent Poland and Lithuania for the next 123 years. The partitions occurred for many reasons, including the gradual weakening of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth as well as the aggressive tendencies of Poland’s neighbors, Prussia, the Austrian Empire, and the Russian Empire.
Figure 2: Mid eighteenth-century map commissioned by the Russian tsar showing Asia and eastern Europe. Carte d’Asie. Mer des Indes. Map of Africa Eastern Europe, Eastern Africa. From the Map and Imagery Library Collection, Special and Area Studies Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
So far in this fellowship, I have looked through atlases and maps to see how names for cities and regions in Poland were depicted after the partitions. In an American map made in 1897 depicting the three partitions of Poland, the city Gdańsk in present day northern Poland is named “Danzig” instead, which is the German version of the name. Lviv, a city in western Ukraine, was part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and was known as “Lwów” in Polish. On maps of the Austrian empire from after the partition, its name is represented in German as “Lemberg”. These examples reveal how language was used as a tool to assert the authority of new ruling powers as well as removing linguistic signifiers of the erased Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
Certain maps in the library contain historical regional names that are no longer used. One example is from the 1897 map showing the Partitions of Poland. It includes regions of Poland labelled “Red Russia,” “Black Russia,” and “White Russia.” These were historical names of areas that were once part of the medieval Kyivan Rus’ state, which have also been referred to as Red/Black/White Ruthenia or Rus’. The use of these names could point to possible justification by Russian rulers as to why they felt entitled to Poland’s land. This would be an interesting topic to be explored further in other collections.
Figure 3: Map showing the different stages of the Partitions of Poland. Benjamin Smith, E. Century Atlas of the World 1897. The Century Co., 1897.
In addition to maps, the Price Library of Judaica has a been helpful resource to learn about the history of Polish towns that once had large Jewish populations. These towns reveal an added layer to Poland’s partitions in that the Jewish population in the areas Russia took over faced additional discrimination and had to reside in certain places. The book titled Antopol describes one of these towns and explains that “Antopol” was the town’s Russian name, while “Antipolia” was its name among the Jewish population. The different names of this town suggest that the Jewish people living there had a communal identity of their own with a degree of separation from Russian influence.
Figure 4: Historical map of Antopol when it had a majority Jewish population. Benzion H. Ayalon, Anṭopol: Anṭipolye: Sefer-Yizkor.ו Tel Aviv: Irgun Yotsʼe Anṭopol Be-Yiśraʼel Uve-Ameriḳa, 1972.
My research into this topic has left me wanting to learn more, specifically about how language shown on maps was employed by rulers and affected individuals. How did partitioning and changing the names of areas in Poland impact the people living there? And how did Poland’s experience compare to other areas of the world that have also been partitioned?
Figure 1: Jacob Grimm, et al. Grimm’s Household Tales. London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1912. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, 23h28442.
Ever since childhood, I have had a passionate attachment to Disney Channel Original shows and movies. When I rewatched my beloved shows and movies with a more mature lens, however, I wondered how I could have missed the blatant instances of toxicity in both platonic and romantic relationships. Was this toxicity always enrooted in children’s media? Perusing the Baldwin Library of Historical Children’s Literature furthered my understanding of historical mainstream children’s entertainment and its impact on society.
At the beginning of my research, I assumed that fairy tales were first created as entertainment for children. Through information found in sources such as When Dreams Came True by Jack Zipes and The Classical Fairy Tales by Maria Tatar, I learned that folklore and fairy tales were intended for a mature audience. Even the first editions of The Nursery and Household Tales by the Grimm Brothers were intended for scholars and contained gruesome topics that were unsuitable for children (see figure 2). According to Tatar, the Grimm Brothers realized they missed a potential selling market based on criticisms that their tales were not written for the household (given in the name) and did not include Christian teachings. This newfound information shifted my attention to why fairy tales moved toward children and families.
Figure 2: This frontispiece was created by Kronheim to capture the gruesome topics portrayed in the George Routledge and Sons’ 1877 edition of the Household Stories Collected by the Brothers Grimm. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, 23h247.
Economic and financial considerations help explain why the Grimms’ stories and other fairy tales were being altered for child audiences and how publishers exploited that demand. My initial instinct was to take a modern economic approach: anything is more likely to be bought when it appeals to multiple physical senses. The Grimm’s Household Tales, edited and partly translated by Marian Edwards in 1912, had the components of a bible with minimal illustrations and no color (see figure 3). It seemed that it was meant for parents or other authority figures to read to children, and imagery was left to the child’s imagination. The book’s preface confirms the initial purpose, stating it was for young readers and their “interest and amusement” but “as a source of instruction also,” showing its intended market.
Figure 3: Edited and partly translated by Marian Edwards and illustrated by R’anning Bell, it demonstrates how the book itself was not visual for younger readers but a medium of instruction. Jacob Grimm, et al. Grimm’s Household Tales. London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1912. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, 23h28442.
This lack of illustrations and the primary purpose being for instruction led me to question whether, with time, books and illustrations would become more colorful. I found, however, that illustrators like Authur Rackham and his Grimms Tales, published in 1909 (earlier than Edwards’ edition in 1912), included colorful watercolor pictures and graphics that were more appealing to the eye, steering away from the bible aesthetic (see figure 4). Rackham’s prefatory note alluded to the intention of his creative approach and of more entertainment. Rackham’s Brothers Grimm Tales, limited to 750 signed copies for sale in Britain and Ireland and his notable reputation for art, established the equilibrium at a higher price because of the limited supply. This proved to be more of a scarce good: even if the demand rises, more of the original copy cannot be supplied. My current notion, with the given information, is that time is a relevant variable for children’s literature because of the progression of printing technology and changing social norms, which, in turn, impacts children’s literature. However, the critical variable is the intention of the author, illustrator, and publishing company.
Figure 4: Arthur Rackham’s colored illustration of Rapunzel depicts the artistry he means to convey with The Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm 1909 edition. Jacob Grimm, et al. The Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm. London: Constable & Co., 1909. Baldwin Library of Historic Children’s Literature, 39p1840.
My observations of economic principles, social norms, and children’s literature spark future questions about how historical cultural movements, like the Victorian Era, shifted children’s literature and views on childhood. I would like to further expand on the economic implications of children’s literature and the criteria needed to succeed in the industry. I would also like to dive deeper into the relationship between the author, illustrator, and publishing company and how that influenced the products made. I think that with historical children’s literature, many have seen the philosophical ideologies of fairy tales and folklore, but the monetary implications have yet to be seen.
