In 1824, in New York City, was born a child named James Merritt Ives. Currier trained as a printer in Boston and Ives as a bookkeeper; when they became brothers-in-law they joined forces and made their fortunes. With widespread literacy so new, much of America had not yet received its own literature of itself. Currier and Ives set up teams of illustrators who painted “American scenes”: Autumn in the Adirondacks; The Old Mill in Summer; Winter on the Hudson. In the eventual industry— they produced more than eight thousand original titles— nothing was ruled out: battles of the Civil War, Mississippi paddle steamers, Washington at Princeton. Great stories from the news also made it into color within days of their breaking: shipwrecks, train crashes, prizefights. But it was Christmas that nailed the market— calendars showed the way. This was a public that wanted to feel things; nostalgia rang bells at the till; the fledgling nation needed its past. In this New World, the immigrant races were thriving one by one; few of these emergent Americans had such sentimental luggage as the Irish.
