tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57416071055346426432011-09-19T17:35:47.020+01:00An Autobiography by F. Vincent BrooksSimonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-22006672413047048492007-10-23T21:03:00.000+01:002007-11-10T19:38:21.725Z

Chapter i. Family History.                       ii. Early Recollections.                      iii. At School with Cecil Rhodes.                      iv. First Business Experiences.                      v. George Baxter and his Methods.                      vi. Lithography and its Limitations.                      vii. Athletics and Rowing in the Seventies.

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-3282106045491868732007-10-23T21:02:00.001+01:002008-03-18T17:54:40.210Z

To my Friend OLIVER ARMSTONG FRY First among Editors To accept my attempts at writing And who has been mad enough to Encourage my present enterprise This volume is Affectionately Inscribed.It has been said of the Elder

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-77207676551174718382007-10-23T21:01:00.003+01:002008-03-18T18:31:15.522Z

It is at times a good thing to desist from studying ourselves with complacency in order to consider how much of any real worth and interest that we possess arises from those who have preceded us.This will lead us to consider to what extent we owe these advantages to the mother who first taught us at her knees to address the All-Father in words of which we then understood not the meaning; or to

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-80367318474636422952007-10-23T21:00:00.012+01:002008-10-28T11:43:19.616Z

I was born on December 21st 1848 in the same room at 421 Oxford Street in which my father had been born thirty-three years previously. The weather I should perhaps describe as “seasonable” for my uncle Sidney had been there overnight and had assured my mother that she might rest comfortably, for no self-respecting baby would start life’s journey in such unpropitious weather. However, he met the

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-18333079703524890662007-10-23T20:58:00.003+01:002008-03-29T15:48:08.967Z

Our Summer holiday of 1862 was spent at Broadstairs, where my father took a furnished house jointly with Mr Edward Stanford, the well-known Map Publisher, then of Charing Cross, and his son the present proprietor of that business was one of the party.As might be expected my recent experience at Stockwell was a prominent topic of conversation between the seniors, and Mr Stanford promised to make

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-34801167221026075982007-10-23T20:56:00.004+01:002008-10-28T11:42:29.931Z

Although disappointed that my education was cut short in consequence of my father’s urgent need for help in his business, and especially so that I was not to have the advantage of a University career, it must be admitted that a young man could scarcely have entered into his life work as a Lithographer & Printer at a happier time or with more fortunate surroundings.My father had much of the

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-25039007481936466082007-10-23T20:52:00.003+01:002008-04-12T15:24:39.693+01:00

The reader who has followed me thus far, at times perhaps with much patients endurance, may very reasonably want to know what manner of man he has taken ship with, what his real views are outside of the ordinary routine of life, what is the “Kiblak” to which his thoughts turn in their more serious moments.It was Octavius Birrell in his happy preparliamentary days who first took the word at the

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-40319078818321564002007-10-22T19:27:00.000+01:002007-12-22T20:50:31.128Z

This is not a part of 'My Life's Medley', but a speech made by Frederick's son Wilfred. As the piece is quite long we have decided to post it here instead of on the 'notes on a medley' page."Evidence of a growing revolt against all that was pretentious, tawdry and ill-proportioned in industrial art was described by Mr. Vincent Brooks, vice-chairman of the L.C.C School of Printing and Engraving,

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5741607105534642643.post-77137616698002517192006-03-16T22:19:00.002Z2008-03-16T22:29:07.054Z

The following transcription appears to be a speech written by Wilfred Vincent Brooks, one of the sons of F.V. Brooks who headed up Vincent Brooks Day & Son in the 20th century. The occasion is unknown as yet but may be a meeting regarding an exhibition attended by the bookbinder Douglas Cockerell of whom the piece is entitled and subsequently amended.[Mr Douglas Cockerell]Mr Chairman, Ladies and

Simonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092373974266371652noreply@blogger.com0