A couple years ago, my parents presented me with a large nineteenth-century logbook they had discovered in a local antique shop. It was made for the 1812 British naval ship H.M.S. Trincomalee, which now happens to be docked in my hometown, Hartlepool.
The local connection was not the only special thing about this logbook. The opening page is dated 1871, and it has been filled in as intended, with information about wind speed and tides. The rest of the book, however, was turned into a colorful and densely-populated scrapbook by at least two generations of children, starting in 1877. Margaret Annie Kirton (born in 1868, according to census data), was the first child to write the date in pencil. A few dates from the 1890s are mentioned. Other contributors, Rowland Moores Allen and Audrey and Jean Broadbent, were all born around 1920, and Rowland dates some of his contributions from 1934. It is not clear whether these children knew one another, nor what their connection was to the Trincomalee, though Rowland’s profession in 1939 (at age 19) was a ‘sea-going assistant.’ Presumably the scrapbook played a role in cultivating Rowland’s special interests in ships and seafaring in his youth.
The scrapbook is filled with various cuttings. The child who populated the early pages was clearly interested in young girls’ fashions and representations of grown-up romantic relationships. There are Christmas cards, and advertisements for Glenfield Sewing Cottons and corned beef. There are scraps depicting crochet and cross stitch, the royal family and their dogs.
Sometimes the regular grid of the logbook form inspired its owners, writing their own taxonomies and lists. Otherwise, they ignored its rules and pasted over the pages completely. Rowland Moores Allen practiced his signature dozens upon dozens of times.
The multilayered history of the object, as both a formal document and a childish amusement is profound. The young creators were aware of the object as something that spanned across time and were cognizant that it would be preserved for the future. This can be seen in the following rhyme:
“Annie Hougham is my name, England is my Nation, West Hartlepool is my dwelling place.
A pleasant habitation, When I am dead in my grave and all my bones are rotten.
This Book will tell my name although I am quite forgotten.”
This scrapbook is a stunning example of the creative ways in which young people passed their time in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. It epitomizes the joint material and textual worlds which young people shared, and shows that these children had an instinct as to which childish things should be maintained and treasured.
Lois Burke is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Culture Studies at Tilburg University in the Netherlands. She enjoys researching children’s literature and writing from the past, and she especially likes to rifle through Victorian archives. She has a few exciting book projects coming up, on the topics of children’s manuscript cultures and transformative writing. You can find her published work in the journals Life Writing, International Research in Children’s Literature, Victorian Periodicals Review and Scottish Literary Review.
