The Strange Suicide Of An Early 20th C. Female Rare Book Binder

by Stephen J. Gertz

On Sunday morning, December 29, 1913, at 11:30AM the body of Mary Effingham Chatfield, 42, an art bookbinder with work commissioned by many of New York's most eminent book collectors and private libraries, was discovered flung across a couch in her studio on the sixth floor of 400 W. 23d Street in Manhattan, NYC.

She had been stabbed with a long, slender paper cutter with keen edge and point. On a nearby table a blood-splattered note was found with the cryptic accusation, "Mrs. Howard is to blame for this."

Close friends of Chatfield, who knew her as "Mollie," upon learning of her sudden, violent death and the strange note, presumed that she had been murdered.  The bloody note indicated that Mollie had written it after being stabbed, then dragged herself to the couch where she soon died: the blade had pierced her heart.

Her older brother, Harvey, who identified the body, knew otherwise. "I have not the slightest doubt that my sister committed suicide," he declared to reporters. "I do not know who the Mrs. Howard she referred to may have been for I do not remember any one of that name who has come into touch with our lives for at least five years." He then told of the bizarre circumstances which led to her death.

Binding by Mary E. Chatfield.

For the prior two months Mollie had been the victim of strange hallucinations, pursued by an inner voice that she believed to be that of a woman, one who commanded Chatfield to submit to her will and do what was demanded by her. In her desperation to escape the voice Mollie rented a studio on the top floor of her building in the hope that the voice could not reach her there. Chatfield, additionally, had taken to long, exhausting walks at rapid pace to elude the harridan's voice that constantly chased her. "It may have been that she believed that a Mrs. Howard was the woman who was following her wherever she went," her brother told a New York Times reporter.

What prompted her snap? Mollie and Harvey had a sister, Elizabeth, who, a year prior, had become so stricken by tuberculosis that she was sent upstate to Saranac, then a world-renowned center for the treatment of TB. They were very close and Mollie had given up her work to accompany and help care for her sister, who was suffering and wasting away. The months which followed were difficult for Mollie and when Elizabeth died she experienced a nervous breakdown.

By October of 1913, however, Mollie had made sufficient progress in her recovery to return to the city and begin work once again. She placed herself under the care of Dr.. John E. Wilson, a "nerve specialist" with an office at 616 Madison Avenue. Then the strange hallucinations began with the voice ordering her to do things she did not want to do. Her escape to the top floor and the frenetic walks around the city followed.

Harvey Chatfield thought that Mollie had been making progress; he had taken her out to dinner on Christmas Eve and she appeared to be in good spirits. Her doctor was also encouraged. She was last seen alive at 7:30 Saturday night December 28th.

Her body was discovered on the couch the next morning by a Mrs. Taylor, who had come to the studio with books she wished to have bound. After no response at the door the superintendent was called and Mrs. Taylor was let in and discovered the tragic scene.

Mr. Chatfield said that Mollie's bindings were commissioned by respected book collectors such as Robert J. Colter. Mrs. Taylor, present at the time Harvey Chatfield was interviewed and, evidently, the soul of discretion, said she thought it best not to mention other prominent people who hired Mary E. Chatfield, who was known in New York's art community for many years.

"Miss Chatfield's studio was one of the most artistically furnished of those in the big building. She had her workshop in the large front room into which the sunlight poured through a great skylight. An old spinning wheel stood in one corner, and the furniture included an antique desk of considerable value and an old mahogany piano. On the mantel was a pair of brass candle-sticks of unique design. A complete bookbinding outfit was neatly arranged on the work table beneath the skylight. Off this room was a smaller one, where Miss Chatfield had lived. She did her own cooking on a small gas range. Miss Chatfield was a member of an old Southern family, friends said. She was a handsome woman," (NY Times obituary).

Upper doublure. Note Chatfield's stamped signature at bottom edge.

The binding seen here is the only one by Mary E. Chatfield that I've thus far encountered. Curiously, no reference to her is found in Marianne Tidcombe's Women Bookbinders 1880-1920. It seems that she did not produce a large body of work; I have not found a single binding by her in any major library's online catalog. Yet with bindings by her in the collections of prominent collectors and libraries, as reported at her death, the books had to wind up somewhere. From a family of means, it may be that she was a dilettante in the Arts & Crafts movement, which, from its roots as an aesthetic protest against mechanization during the late 1880s-early 1890s, had, to a large degree, fallen into vocational work for the wealthy. Yet Chatfield was, reportedly, devoted to bookbinding, an unmarried woman of taste, means, and artistic yearning unsatisfied with the traditional, stultifying role: all dressed up with no place to go except shopping, the opera, and social occasions.

While the binding here - for a selection of Rudyard Kipling's verses bound together from various source editions - is certainly attractive Chatfield was not breaking new ground. But she was quite skilled with onlay work, not easy to well execute. Who did she study with? On the covers she has pictorially recreated the first stanza to Kipling's poem, The Legend of Evil:

This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding their neighbor's tails.

The upper doublure depicts an onlaid scene of Mandalay at twilight:

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees..

The mystery that is Mary E. Chatfield demands solution. I encourage anyone with further information on her to contact me.

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February 3, 2014. We received the following from Thomas Conroy, with our thanks:

Both the Mary Chatfield binding and the article are important excellent finds. I can add a little knowledge to what you have already.

Mary Chatfield joined the Guild of Book Workers in 1906-1907, its first year, as a "Professional Member" and a pupil of "Minnie Sophie Pratt" (1868-1901). The Prat sisters, originally from Nova Scotia, were almost the only students of Evelyn Nordhoff, Cobden-Sanderson's first American lady student.  Neither Nordhoff nor Minnie Prat lived long enough to gain any particular skill as binders, but they were pioneers. Miss Chatfield didn't appear in the Membership List for 1907-1908, but reappeared in 1908-1909 with "A. Dehertagh" added to her list of teachers. Adolphe Dehertogh, of course, had replaced Frank Mansell as second finisher at the Club Bindery around 1898, and later worked for Edith Diehl; he had been trained in Brussells and had worked in Paris. Miss Chatfield does not appear in the GBW Membership Lists after 1909. It is perhaps impolite, with Dehertogh in the picture, to mention that binding designers have been known to sign books that were
actually executed by real binders, especially in a French-style context. The name "Bonet" comes to mind....

The story is a bit more obscure, though. The Grangerized Kipling shown here has been published before, in an article of 1915-- one of two fine bindings attributed to "Harvy Chatfield." Mary's brother Harvey S. Chatfield also joined the GBW in 1906-1907, sharing a New York address with her (this was most likely a studio address), as a professional but without mentioning his teacher. He likewise missed 1907-1908, and reappeared in 1908-1909, sharing a new NYC address with Mary, and now claiming Dehertogh as his teacher. In 1909-1910 he added "Teacher" to his listing. He remained a member of the Guild until 1920-21, changing his listing only in address. Possibly brother and sister worked as a team, forwarder and finisher; or possibly this was a binding of Mary''s, completed by Harvey after her death.

Finally there is Rose Farwell Chatfield-Taylor (Mrs. H.C.) of Chicago (b. 1870) who joined the GBW in 1906-1907 as a professional ("Rose Bindery") and as "Pupil of Rene Kieffer, Paris, France." The next year she listed herself as a teacher. She remained in the Guild without change to her listing through 1909-1910. It is at least an interesting coincidence that Mary Chatfield's body was discovered by a "Mrs. Taylor." Perhaps genealogical research might uncover a connection.

REFERENCES:

The Guild of Book Workers First Year Book and List of Members, 1906-1907. New York:The Guild of Book Workers, 1907. Annual, 1907-1946.

Burleigh, G. "Some American Bindings and The Guild of Book Workers." Arts and Decoration 5 (May, 1915), p. 274-276.

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Header image from New York Times obituary December 30, 1913.

Binding images courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, with our thanks.
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Educate! Amuse! In Color! The George M. Fox Collection of Children’s Books

by Alastair M. Johnston

There’s another children’s book show at San Francisco Public Library (through March 10th 2013), but this is the first since 1986 to draw on the library’s own superb resource: the George M. Fox Collection of Children’s Books.

The collecting of children’s books is a relatively modern phenomenon. There are great collections at Princeton (Cotsen Collection), in Toronto (Osborne Collection), Oxford (Opie Collection), UCLA, NYPL (Schatzki Collection) and in Florida (the Baldwin Library), that I know of, but the Fox Collection is remarkable, not only for its breadth but also for the condition of the books.

George Fox Sr was an executive at Milton Bradley and when they acquired the publishing firm of McLoughlin Brothers of New York, they didn’t want the firm’s archives and decided to dump them. Fox & another executive split them. The archives contained file copies of all their publications including a large cache of books by British publishers that were sent to them for consideration for republishing (or they may have been acquired to see what the competition was up to and ultimately to pirate them). They also contained the original woodblocks for some books as well as related ephemera. The original artwork that survived is at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Mass. Fox added to the collection and gave over 2000 children’s books to the library in 1978. The current exhibition (the first since 1978) features over eighty examples of 19th-century color printing, especially color wood engraving and chromolithographs. Early hand-colored images are included as well. Highlights include “toy” and “moveable” books; work from the shop of Edmund Evans (who published all of Kate Greenaway's works) and many examples of fine British chromolithography from the firms of Thomas Nelson & Sons, Frederick Warne, Dean & Son and George Routledge & Sons.

McLoughlin Brothers’ motto “Educate and Amuse” marks an important turning point because, prior to the mid-nineteenth century, children’s books tended to be rather tedious and more about indoctrinating kids in good behavior than having fun. Catherine Sinclair’s Holiday House, 1839, is generally considered the first book written for children that does not have a built-in guilt-trip.

Tastes change over time also. The British books in the collection are sometimes marked up with alterations for the American market, or editorial comments. The Little Pig’s Ramble from Home, which is a personal favorite, has “Not much liked, very ordinary,” penciled on it. This is one of the titles that has survived elsewhere too and the Baldwin copy can be read on line at the childrenslibrary.org. In The Little Pig’s Ramble, Jack Pig puts on airs (a wig and top hat) and sets off to explore the world, only to be confronted with a pork butcher! Moral: Stay home if you know what’s good for you!

The books were often published in uniform series like “Uncle Buncle’s” or “Grandmama Easy's” and if the title was well-known it might generate sequels, as Ruth McGurk pointed out in her essay on the Fox Collection: “They are shameless in putting out sequels The Cock Robin story is spun into The Sad Fate of Cock Robin, Sick Robin and his Kind, Nurse Jenny Wren, Death & Burial of Cock Robin, Cock Robin Alive & Well Again and Mrs Dove’s Party. In the latter the guilty sparrow is punished by social ostracism.

And though he hopped in quite bold and undaunted,
He found not a bird that in kindness would greet him.”

He shoulda stayed in Las Vegas. Above is a spread from an 1850s book with hand-colored wood engravings: Mama Lovechild’s [sic] Life & Death of Cock Robin, published by McLoughlin Bros in New York from stereotyped plates.

Not on display is a personal favorite: the giant hen in Learning to Count: One, Two, Buckle my Shoe (by Augustus Hoppin, New York, Hurd & Houghton, ca 1870), but it is in the collection should you choose to explore it.

The books were advertised as cheap, colorful (some printed in ten colors) and above all avoiding vulgar sentiments. The big guns of children’s book illustration, Randolph Caldecott, Kate Greenaway and Walter Crane emerged in the late Victorian era and are well-represented in the collection. There’s even a Caldecott sketch “in the style of Greenaway.” As McGurk pointed out, “Walter Crane has a bent for whimsical detail.” She points out the Wedgwood bowls in the Three Bears rather luxe kitchen, labeled “Ursus Major, Ursus Minor, and Ursus Minimus”! Caldecott also wrote to Scribner's (who legally imported his books) complaining about the garish colors in the pirated editions of his books from McLoughlin and warning readers not to accept the cheap knock-offs.

Short but sweet, Four Footed Favourites by Mrs Surr, published by Nelson & Sons in London, and illustrated by Hector Giacomelli, appeared in the 1880s. The recently digitized SFPL copy can be read on the Internet Archive site.

The SFPL copy of Comic Insects is also found there. It has anthropomorphism reminiscent of Tenniel’s Caterpillar in Alice (and of course Grandville), but above all it has spectacular color printing from chromolithography, including gold (above, which is very tricky to achieve). Published by Frederick Warne, ca 1872, it was written by the Rev F A S Reid, illustrated by Berry F Berry, engraved by Dalziel Brothers and printed from plates made by Kronheim & Co.

Aunt Louisa’s Magic Modeller (London: Frederick Warne & Co., ca 1881) is a paper toy you cut out to build a replica of the Tower of London. These paper toys were very popular in France & Germany also and make the child a participant in the project rather than a proprietor.

More elaborate toy books include Six Mysterious Pictures from Chaos: affording great amusement and intense surprise among children and their little friends (London: Dean & Sons, ca 1878). Such moveable books inspired the Surrealists in their game of Exquisite Corpse. The show is edifying, and also amusing.

Laura E. Wasowicz, Curator of Children's Literature from the American Antiquarian Society, will discuss the history of McLoughlin Brothers (1858–1950), and their role as producers of color picture books in America. The lecture will be held in the Koret Auditorium of the Main Library, on Saturday, January 5th, at 2 p.m.
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Of Related Interest:

Draw Me A Story: Collecting Children's Book Illustrations.

A Movable Book Feast: The World's Greatest Collection Comes To Auction.

Movable Books Pop Up At Smithsonian.

Dean & Son Movable Books and How To Date Them.
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The Discovery of America and New York in 1892

by Stephen J. Gertz

For most visitors to Manhattan, both foreign and domestic, New York is the Shrine of the Good Time. This is only natural, for outsiders come to New York for the sole purpose of having a good time, and it is for their New York hosts to provide it. The visiting Englishman, or the visiting Californian, is convinced that New York is made up of millions of gay pixies, flittering about constantly in a sophisticated manner in search of a new thrill. - Robert Benchley

When John Smith, a naive new arrival to New York in 1882, explores the city's nightlife, exotic though unnerving and, ultimately, enervating adventures ensure. By the end of his journey into Gotham's underbelly, as recounted in a scarce volume, The Discovery of America and New York, he needs to lie down for five weeks. The fast lane during the Gilded Age was no place for a meek pony to rev horsepower it desired but didn't possess.

"The only True and Authentic Portrait & Signature of John Smith,
discoverer of America."

He attends a performance of The Black Crook, considered to be the first modern American book-musical (it featured a song, Oh, You Naughty, Naughty Men! perhaps inspiring young John Smith's escapades); experiences Madison Square Rooftop Garden, later the scene for Harry Thaw's murder of architect Stanford White over the alluring Evelyn Nesbit; a New York barroom; the Eden Musée (a toney wax museum and art center); a casino; etc. and so forth.

Note the "seal" of the NY Society for the Prevention of Vice stamp in red.

So forth, indeed, that he winds up passed-out drunk in a barrel after being mugged and beaten. Found by the police, he is, naturally, arrested. Idiocy-with-intent-to-commit-foolishness has always been frowned upon by the NYPD; it's on the books, a municipal code violation. They distain naifs who should know better. This is New York, after all, where newcomers have fifteen minutes to wise-up or else suffer the consequences.

Smith, "Discovered by one of the Natives."

Battered, bruised, and bereft of his innocence, he finds his way to Dr. D.M. Stimson's office, where he discovers the modern health care crisis in its infancy: he has to wait a long time to be seen. A VERY long time.

Little is known of illustrator H.W. McVickar. He was born in 1860, and flourished in his career 1880-1905 as an exponent of the Art Nouveau style before he appears to have fallen off a cliff and been forgotten. He is responsible for thirty-one works in seventy publications in three languages, including novels by Henry James (Daisy Miller; An International Episode), many other books, and Harper's and Life magazines.

The Discovery of America and New York was self-published by McVickar as a gift book to friends and his doctor, D.M. Stimson - yes, a real person, a surgeon of renown in the city.

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McVICKAR, H[enry (aka Harry)]. W[hitney]. The Discovery of America and New York: October 12, 1892 by a Young Man Who Had Been Five Weeks in Bed Named John Smith. [New York]: [by the author], 1892. First (only) edition, limited to an unknown but likely very small number of copies. Octavo. 62 pp. with  thirty-one pen and ink drawings, including faux titlepage, each predominately full page, most with watercolor highlighting, several in full color. Half-leather over marbled boards, with "Dr. D.M. Stimson" embossed in gilt to upper cover.

Unrecorded, with no copies noted by OCLC/KVK.
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Images courtesy of Brian Cassidy, Bookseller, with our thanks.
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