The curious case of a little old book – Part 2, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

Last year I related the story of an unusual find in a post titled “The curious case of a little old book”. I’ve had purchased a copy of the Roycrofter’s edition of Aucassin & Nicolette which also, unexpectedly so, contained a small gift note. Upon further research it turned out the book was originally bought by a famous Victorian era actress, a certain Clara Morris (Harriot). Since this post is going to build upon information provided in the previous one I recommend reading the original post first if needed (there is a link back to this article at the end). I originally planned on presenting this second part much sooner but for various reasons always got delayed, until now.

After unraveling the fascinating story behind the aforementioned note I decided to take my sleuthing a little further and try to find interesting items relating to Clara Morris. So I went back to eBay and started searching. There were quite a few interesting items to be found:

The first thing I came across was a CDV, a carte de visite or “visiting card”. These types of small, carded photographs became rather popular in the latter part of the 1800s and turned into collectibles that were often traded similar to baseball cards and such in more modern times. This particular CDV was produced by Sarony at 680 Broadway in NYC. There is no date printed but by the looks of it it seems to date from the mid 1870s. The clarity of the photo is quite astounding as is the depth of field. It can be seen on the right in the photo above. Further details regarding CDVs can be found here.

Next I found some type of trading card, this time a portrait rather than a photograph. It’s roughly the same size as the CDV but unfortunately has no date indicated either (probably also mid 1870s). It was made by Union Novelty Co. in Montpelier, Vermont. It’s advertising “The Favorite Pictorial, Defining and Pronouncing Dictionary of the English Language… neatly bound in Cloth and containing 320 pages.” It can be seen on the left in the photo on top.

Of course one of the most interesting items to find would be a play bill or any sort of program of one of her shows. Luckily such an item was up for sale, and not just for any theater but the Boston Theater. Given that I’ve lived around Boston that was a great find. “The Ray” was the official program of the Boston Theater and was published daily by H. A. M’Clenen. This issue dates from Monday, May 7, 1877, and advertises “Clara Morris, The Greatest Living Actress” in the play “Camille – Or, The Fate of a Coquette”. The author had the following to say:

“Clara Morris, This great actress, of whom it is said that she “fills the widest space in the public eye and the warmest corner of the heart of every lover of the drama in America,” will be with us for a brief season only, and will repeat the role of Camille every evening of the week (except Saturday), and on Saturday afternoon. During her stay she will produce “Miss Multon,” a grand play, dealing with a phase of human passion that touches an answering chord in every heart. Hoping to achieve success from the favor Miss Morris has commanded wherever she has appeared, other actresses have presented versions of “Miss Multon,” which compare with hers as thinnest veneering does to solid mahogany.” *Notes

Adding to this praise is a poem simply titled “Clara Morris”, written by a certain G. C. Howard of Cambridge, Massachusetts (I am assuming this is actor George C. Howard, later manager of the Howard and Foxes theater troupe whose repertoire included a rendition of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Some details here):

“When Clara Morris treads the stage,
A queen commands the mimic scene;
This brilliant genius of the age
Paints what will be and what has been.

Yes, the fierce passions of the soul,
That sway the human heart through time,
Her magic powers so control
As render the effect sublime.

Society’s frail, fickle train
She illustrates with charms that please;
The proud her art cannot disdain;
The humble, near her, feel at ease.

As suffering “Multon,” her tones move
And set the heart and soul on fire;
Till, crushed by unrequited love,
We pity, weep, and then admire

Sensations gain from her their dower,
Which so enrich us through the play;
Even illness fails to check the power
In this great actress of the day.”

Well, even Oscar Wilde proclaimed once “Miss Morris is the greatest actress I ever saw, if it be fair to form an opinion of her from her rendition of this one role. … We have no such powerfully intense actress in England. She is a great artist, in my sense of the word, because all she does, all she says, in the manner of the doing and of the saying constantly evokes the imagination to supplement it. That is what I mean by genius. We have no one like her.” Judging by all this reverence Clara Morris must have been an actress comparable in fame to perhaps a Meryl Streep today.

Now that I had acquired the program I also wanted to see if I could find any of the books and stories Mrs. Morris had written. While most of them deal with stage life and her experiences with the theater I did come across several short stories she’d written. I randomly selected one, published in “The Ladies Home Journal”, August 1898. The title didn’t really deter me, I figured my wife could find something interesting in it as well, so I purchased the copy. It contains a story titled “The gentleman who was going to die” which sounded intriguing. To my surprise it turned out to be somewhat of a murder mystery written from the perspective of two children. Strangely enough it reminded me of the Enid Blyton stories I used to read as a kid – now there’s a coincidence. It’s actually very well written with a nice old fashioned voice yet quite modern at the same time, it kept my attention all the way through. It’s a great read and you can find a copy of it here. So my sleuthing was crowned by a sleuth story written by Clara Morris, very fascinating. **Notes

Unfortunately Clara Morris’ health deteriorated quickly in later years and complete blindness overtook her in 1910. She also lost most of her wealth as well as her house in which she had resided for 37 years. She died on November 20, 1925, aged 76. As life has it many stories don’t have a happy ending. Even so, here someone’s life lived long ago had suddenly intersected with mine, made me think and ponder a few things. Initially I was reminded of something I read in the bible once (bear with me for moment) – Ecclesiastes 9:10:

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might; for there is no activity or planning or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol where you are going.”

Fact is nobody knows what the future holds, not with absolute certainty, regardless of how fantastic our technological progress is. I don’t know what next year will bring, next month, tomorrow – I do not even know what the next 15 minutes may hold. But we can all create positive memories. Rather than spending considerable amounts of time with any sort of negativity – grudges, regrets, resentments etc. – wouldn’t it be better to always try to do things “with all our might”? This isn’t just about what we do for ourselves but also about what we do for others as well as what we’ll leave behind.

My wife and I discussed this one time while walking through a museum. “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore,” was our consensus while looking at just common household items. And it’s not just about our mass production and throw away items. Even more so it’s about the increasing virtualization of our lives, and I include myself in this. It’s great to write emails, communicate with people around the globe instantly and having a computer to quickly commit my thoughts to – certainly much faster, and more legible, than handwriting (well, for me anyway). But that also means there is no note for someone else to find in the future, a little “thank you” or “how are you” or “get well” included with a nicely bound book given to a friend, a book that maybe some stranger will acquire in the future, find the note and wonder who the person was that wrote it. Of course I did all my research online, so this isn’t about condemning technology. But it is about the little things, the ones that make all the difference. And it is about living consciously here and now so that there is something to look back on and say “yes, I remember, I put my whole heart into it.” And even further down the road for someone else to maybe say “what an interesting person that was.”

On a personal note I can say that the results of this research motivated me once again to seriously consider writing and publishing all the stories in my head. It’s always been a struggle for various reasons but after reading “The gentleman who was going to die” I instantly felt like “yes, go for it.” What sort of stories? Well, detective stories of course, my dear Watson.

* In addition the program contains some rather curious advertisement typical for the times such as “Lame Back and Rheumatism cured by Collins’ Voltaic Plasters” with the almost expected declaration “NOT A QUACK NOSTRUM.” (yes, all in capital) or “Sanford’s Radical cure for Catarrh.” Very charming is also the following Ad: “IMMENSE SLAUGHTER. 200,000 BOOKS. I, A. W. Lovering, have commenced war on the prices of Books, and shall slaughter 200,000 volumes of the choicest literature of the age at TREMENDOUS BARGAINS!” Like some examples of what’s on offer? “Dickens’ Diamond Edition, 14 vols., $4.50.” Or how about “Longfellow’s Poets and Poetry of Europe, full gilt, $2, former price $5.” And also “Tennyson’s Poems, cloth, new and complete edition, 25 cts.”
Then there is also the “Rayscrapes”, a collection of little jokes and anecdotes such as “A rhetorical monster – the whale, for he is always spouting” or ”A Hotel is advertised as “kept by the widow of Mr. Brown, who died last summer on a new and improved plan.” The latter would fit perfectly in a new edition of “Eats, shoots and leaves”.
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** There was a fascinating Ad for the photographer in me in that issue, the “New Pocket Kozy Camera”. Yes, a pocket camera in 1898. You can read more about it here.
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Those moments carefully stored away, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

I am walking over hallowed ground
Over graveyards white and bleached
It’s perfectly silent, there is no sound
The world is quietly beseeched
I keep on treading, trudging
I behold my soul grudging
As I step over sticks and Styx
Because time has lost it’s rhythm
Lost it’s rhyme
Twelve strikes on the chime
As I’m
Passing skeletons reaching for the sun
A danse macabre, silently spun

My mind wants to wander, wants to run
To another place, wants to pry ajar
A door that leads to a land afar
My heart’s inclined to reminisce
Tries hard to dismiss
Dispel
This state of mind
Don’t want to dwell
On thoughts that do not bode well
And so I go on looking, searching, seeking
For those moments carefully stored away
Filed and numbered for such a day
For times when there may be dismay
And as I retrieve, one by one
All those minute points in time
As I look at all the things I’ve done
I happen upon an autumn day in the sun

It is quite astounding
How my heart’s now pounding
How I hastily open this memory’s page
How I engage
All my senses in this moment past
And I feel its sounds and smells and sights
Fill every corner of my inner chambers fast
These truly are the lights
That break through the darkest nights
These little pleasures, treasures
Points in time, divine

For what would we be
Without any memory?
Without days lived with simple joy and pleasure
How could we cope without such treasure?
I would not want to live from day to day
Without having some to store away
Without having anything to ponder
Anything to look back on, to marvel at and wonder
Such a life would surely be
As if walking over hallowed ground
Over graveyards white and bleached
Over a place perfectly silent, without sound
Until the end of the line has been reached

© Thorsten Becker

Little things get easily lost, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

Little things
Get easily lost
Easily broken
Easily disregarded
Discarded
Thrown by the wayside
To the curbside
Childhood memories
Of little toy planes
Held between two fingers
Chasing the clouds away
Of little plastic animals
Conversing in a garden of childhood bliss
And later than
A lover’s trinket
Cherished once like a diamond rare
Do we still care?
If everything fell to ruin today
What would you like to spare?
Little things
Easily overlooked
In these hectic times
Where our schedules are overbooked
Hold on to them
They are your memories
Footnotes rife
With moments past
Lessons learned
Bookmarks of your life
Protect them
Like treasures golden
More valuable then riches
Which cannot buy back precious moments
Display them proudly
Shine a light on them
So that when the night is the darkest
When everything else has faded
When all those memories seem so far
They’ll guiding you back
To who you are

© Thorsten Becker

You sacrificed a part of yourself, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

You sacrificed a part of yourself
To protect the whole of me
To cover me, keep me safe
Protect me from life’s cutting winds
From the coldness of frozen hearts
From blanketing notions
Descending like white shrouds
Through your loving kindness you taught me
To always care for those
We hold dear, we hold close

Dedicated to my grandfather, who I only knew for the first 8 years of my life but who will always stay with me. This year marks the 30th anniversary of his death.

© Thorsten Becker

Woodland creatures features – Conclusion, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

And so, as the prince of deers settled down in the afternoon sun, right beside me, my thoughts traveled with his, across the plains of fragrant country flowers, over the meadows and streams flowing in the distance. And there was peace.
What simpler joy could there be
Than to just be
What greater joy could there be
Than to just be
To be alive
To be in the moment
To be suspended in eternity
It is all right here, right now
All we need to do is stop chasing after the wind
And hold on instead to the roots of happiness
Nurture love
Cherish humbleness
Fly the kite of kindness
High into the sky
When we step back
No longer occupy every inch of space
When we realize it’s not all about us
But equally about them
Because we’re not independent
But oh so dependent
When we stop wanting
And start giving
Then
We truly start living

© Thorsten Becker

Lovers’ kiss, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

Lovers’ kiss
One true bliss
Electricity of the soul
Hearts ablaze during a night stroll
Here
Touched by lovers touch
Their love flies
Towards Elysian skies
Ascends through layers of the atmosphere
Straight through the stratosphere
Until leaving behind the exosphere
There
Where everything is oh so clear
Oh so quiet
Where nothing can disturb
Nothing can curb
Lovers’ dreams
Their gleams
Set the heavens alight
Like sparkler’s sparks
On top of sweet delight

© Thorsten Becker

Treats, seeds, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

Through cold frosty air
Playful calls I hear, right there,
“Treats, seeds, please share, care”

© Thorsten Becker

A winter dream, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

It is nothing but snow
On a gray cold day
Nothing but trees
That in the distance sway
Why should I stay?

Just a lonely walk
Through winter’s solitude
Biting cold air
Chipping away at my fortitude
Such is my attitude

When suddenly
Up in the sky
Firebirds fly

With their amber breath
They warm away my distress
And with their mythical grace
Lead me towards halcyon days

And such is now the glittering of the snow
So pure and white, day and night
Like the garments of a snow maiden bright
That I resolve with much gratitude
“Joy, instead, should be my attitude!”

© Thorsten Becker

Note: I often like to weave bits and pieces of classic literature as well as folklore into my prose. For this particular piece have a look at Snegurochka as well as the Firebird; an explanation of Halcyon Days can be found here.

Two strangers, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

Two strangers, on that path ahead
Two strangers, hand in hand
Walk beneath
Two strangers, tall and grand
Who also hold each others hand,
And on that path ahead
My love, we shall now tread
Two strangers, hand in hand
To walk beneath
Two strangers, tall and grand

© Thorsten Becker

Silence of the snow, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker.

No sound, high or low
As I walk through the silence,
Silence of the snow

© Thorsten Becker