Category: Educational

Apr 15 2022

It isn’t hoarding if it’s books – or is it?

Posted on by Elizabeth Riordan

“From the Classroom” is a series that features some of the great work and research from students who visit our collections. Below is a blog by Lisa Tuzel from Dr. Jennifer Burek Pierce’s class “Reading Culture History & Research in Media” (SLIS:5600:0001). 

It isn’t hoarding if it’s books – or is it?

By Lisa Tuzel

Meme of Marie Kondo saying on 30 books followed by overcrowded nightstand of books saying "Like on the nightstand?"
Image from boredpanda.com

In her NYT Best Seller The Life-Changing Magic of Cleaning Up, Marie Kondo made headlines with her strategy for minimizing belongings, including books. Kondo claimed to winnow down her own collection to just 30 titles (93 – 95). Book lovers and readers on social media had a visceral reaction to Kondo’s plan – “30 books, you mean on my nightstand, right?” Kondo’s tendency toward minimalism is one that has been common in the United States since World War II, however, this tendency is at odds with an older aspect of book culture: bibliomania.

Bibliomania, the passion for collecting books, was coined by John Ferriar, a physician at the Manchester Royal Infirmary, in an 1809 poem dedicated to his friend, Richard Heber. The term was commonly used through the nineteenth century to describe obsessive book collecting. It is widely agreed that a tense bidding war over Giovanni Boccaccio’s Decamerone between Lord Spencer and the marquis of Blandford in 1812, which ended in a staggering price of £2,260, marks the “central, defining moment in what was known as the ‘bibliomania’” (Connell 25). From this moment, writings concerning the trend of book collecting flourished. In them, the obsession of book collecting by the upper classes in the 19th century is optimistically attributed to saving the literary and cultural history of a nation, to a more cynical view of “book gluttony” that saw collectors “preserve learning … almost in spite of themselves” (Connell 36).

Table of Contents in book
Table of Contents in Bibilomania or Book Madness (Z99.D56 1811, x collection)

One of the seminal works regarding bibliomania is Rev Thomas Frognall Dibdin’s Bibliomania or Book Madness (1811), of which two editions can be found in the University of Iowa Special Collections & Archives. Written as a series of dialogues about book collecting, the work offers up a satiric mock-explanation of the disease bibliomania, its symptoms, and possible cures. 

In the 20th century, Holbrook Jackson, a British journalist and avid book lover, published a number of essay collections that extolled the virtues of books and reading. UI Special Collections owns a copy of The Anatomy of Bibliomania (1930) and Bookman’s Pleasure: a recreation for book lovers (1945). Anatomy of Bibliomania explores questions that all book lovers and collectors mull over, such as The Art of Reading, The Uses of Books, and How Bookmen Conquer Time

Table of contents
Table of Contents for The Anatomy of Bibliomania (Leigh Hunt Collection 010. J12a)

and Place . The Table of Contents proceeds beyond the love of books to Parts XXIII through XXIX, a discussion of the evolution to bibliomania.

The conversation regarding bibliomania was not confined to Great Britain. In the United States, Eugene Field, also a journalist, published The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac in 1896, which became part of the canon of books about books. Following a fictionalized bibliomaniac protagonist, The Love Affair highlights the sensual nature of loving books (Shaddy 53-54).

Maybe the most unique title book about book collecting from UI Special Collections is The Joys and Sorrows of a Book Collector by Luther A. Brewer. It is an essay Brewer wrote about his hobby: book collecting. But what makes this specific item so interesting is that it was not for national or international consumption. The Joys and Sorrows of a Book Collector was privately printed in Cedar Rapids, IA, and given to friends for Christmas in 1928.

Title page of Leigh Hunt's book with red floral design
Title page of The Joys and Sorrows of a Book Collector (Z992.B84, x collection)

The conversation around book collecting has continued for more than 200 years. Why does this conversation persist? It could be the symbolism attributed to books: that the number of books on one’s shelves is directly proportional to the value placed on knowledge and learning. Perhaps the number of books is equal to the intelligence of the collector. Or maybe a full bookshelf is aspirational. Perusing the Table of Contents of these foundational works about bibliomania demonstrates the varied paths collectors take. Whether they collect for love of knowledge, appreciation of the physical artifact, preservation of text, or for vanity, book collectors enjoy the meta-exercise of thinking about why they collect books. Whatever the reason, critics and authors continue to delve into what it means to be a collector of books and whether or not the tendency is symptomatic of mania.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited

Connell, Philip. “Bibliomania: Book Collecting, Cultural Politics, and the Rise of Literary Heritage in Romantic Britain.” Representations, vol. 71, 2000, pp 24 – 47.

Kondo, Marie. The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Ten Speed Press, 2014.

Shaddy, Robert A. “Mad About Books: Eugene Field’s The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac.” Midamerica: The Yearbook of the Society for the Study of Midwestern Literature, Vol.24, 1997, pp. 53 – 73.

 

For Further Reading:

Berry, Lorraine. “Bibliomania: the strange history of compulsive book buying.”

Purcell, Mark. “The Book Disease: On Bibliomania” 

Young, Lauren. “Bibliomania, the Dark Desire for Books that Infected Europe in the 1800s.” 

Mar 28 2022

Private Catholic: Zines for Catholic School Kids

Posted on by Elizabeth Riordan

“From the Classroom” is a series that features some of the great work and research from students who visit our collections. Below is a blog by Abbie Steuhm  from Dr. Jennifer Burek Pierce’s class “Reading Culture History & Research in Media” (SLIS:5600:0001). 

Private Catholic: Zines for Catholic School Kids

By Abbie Steuhm

In the U.S. education system, private schools are unique as scholarly institutions that stand outside of government funding and therefore government regulations. Catholic private schools in particular mix religion and education for young students. While there is a lot of debate around these schools, we find ourselves knowing little about the stories and thoughts of the students themselves who attend. However, some of these stories are told within the minor-league zine Private Catholic found within the Sarah and Jen Wolfe Zines Collection (MsC0878) held in the University of Iowa’s Special Collections & Archives.

“Zines” are handmade booklets self-published by a variety of people, usually members of alternative subcultures. Due to the accessibility of self-publishing and lack of mainstream censorship, many zines detail deeply personal experiences relating to issues of misogyny, classism, racism, anarchism, and empowerment. This makes zines rather difficult to collect and showcase to a wide audience, since these stories were meant to be seen by a small group of collectors and self-publishers instead of an entire academic institution. However, the University of Iowa Libraries staff—many of whom are part of the zine subculture—are dedicated to preserving this small history. This allows stories from unheard voices like Catholic students to be read and experienced by researchers today.

The unnamed creator of the Private Catholic zine gave their personal statement in the first issue, starting with an all-caps statement “OK, LET’S BOND.” They continue by saying they had “originally intended this zine to be a handbook… for poor souls like me who are stuck in Private Catholic school—and trust me, it is HELL” (Private Catholic, no. 1). While the average reader may take this statement as an intense dislike for private Catholic schools, the author explicitly states in issue two how they are “not decidedly for or against Private Catholic schools… They can be pretty cool (uniform means you don’t have to worry what to wear), etc.” Private Catholic allows teenage Catholic school-goers a place to vent their frustrations and air some outrageous stories. For example, underneath the “True Stories” section of the zine’s first edition, someone named Gina tells her single-sentence story of how she received detention for, quote, “being bad at volleyball.”

Author Note found in Private Catholic

 

Private Catholic earns its place within the zine subculture as it details narratives that go against the strict grain of private Catholic schools. In the first issue, one contributor talks about how the spelling book Wordly Wise “introduces and incorporates alternative philosophies and lifestyles” besides an image of Alice from Alice in Wonderland surrounded by definitions of various words such as “anarchy” and “funeral.” Within the same issue, a two-page spread of cut-and-paste pictures from popular magazines displays various images of girls posing in Catholic school uniforms. The commentary on these pages tells how those magazines were selling the look of a Catholic school girl as “sexy, alternative” despite how students were conforming to authoritarian standards with those uniforms.

Both current and former students cognizant and articulate difficult topics that even adults find trouble voicing at times. This is the reason zines deserve their space within Special Collections & Archives; the original, unedited thoughts of underrepresented groups, minorities, and the youth of the past are scissored, glued and typed in various, abstract ways into self-published magazines, a feat worthy of preservation and admiration from fellow students who made their way from Catholic school to public university.

Wordly Wise page layout
School Girls Comic

 

Further Reading:

Girl Zines: Making Media, Doing Feminism by Alison Piepmeier (2009)

Stolen Sharpie Revolution by Alex Wrekk (2014)

Notes from Underground: Zines and the Politics of Alternative Culture by Stephen Duncombe (1997)

page from acrobats
Mar 22 2022

Poems That Just Are

Posted on by Elizabeth Riordan

“From the Classroom” is a series that features some of the great work and research from students who visit our collections. Below is a blog by Luke Allan from Dr. Jennifer Burek Pierce’s class “Reading Culture History & Research in Media” (SLIS:5600:0001). 

Poems That Just Are

By Luke Allan

Ian Finlay in front of wall with letters on it
FIG 1: Ian Hamilton Finlay with his poem acrobats on the wall of his house in 1965. Photo by Jonathan Williams

In a letter to a friend in the late 1950s, Ian Hamilton Finlay (1925–2006) admits to feeling that he must be “about the only contemporary writer who believes that the purpose of art is to—oh dearie me, I forget exactly what—let’s say: be beautiful.” Finlay is in his early thirties, living alone on a remote Scottish island, recovering from the collapse of his marriage, struggling with his mental health problems, and desperately poor. In 1959 he’ll move to Edinburgh, and from there to a dilapidated farmhouse in the Highlands. In the meantime he’ll meet his second wife, Sue, and in 1966 the young couple will move into a slightly less dilapidated farmhouse in the Pentland Hills, called Stonypath, and have their first child. For the next fifty years Ian and Sue will transform Stonypath, and the square acre of wilderness it sits on, nicknamed Little Sparta, into a unique “poem garden”, cultivated by the world’s first self-proclaimed “avant-gardeners”.

But let us take a step back. At some point in those years between moving to the city and leaving it again with Sue, Ian meets Paul Pond and Jessie McGuffie, and together they start a small poetry magazine, Poor. Old. Tired. Horse. The title is borrowed from a Robert Creeley poem, “Please”, and this borrowing itself hints at one of the motivations behind Ian’s interest in running a magazine: the wish to establish a community of likeminded poets and friends. In the mid-sixties Ian was diagnosed with agoraphobia, an event that, if nothing else, gave a name to the feelings of anxiety and alienation that had troubled him for many years, and which fenced him off from the world. Running a magazine would be, whatever else it would be, a way of having friendships in exile.

Editing POTH took Finlay on a long journey into the contemporary poetic avant-garde that would radically reorient his own writing. He already sensed that he no longer cared for poems that were merely “about” things, that he wanted instead poems “that just are” (letter to Gael Turnbull, 29 April 1963). But it was his encounter with the work of the Brazilian poet Augusto de Campos in winter 1962, while editing issue 6 of POTH, that lit the fuse for Finlay. De Campos’s poems were concretos—concrete. They demonstrated a way of thinking and writing that short-circuited traditional logical and grammatical structures. Feeling alienated from the “ordinary syntax” of “social reality”, as he put it in a letter to Jerome Rothenberg in 1963, Finlay found in concrete poetry a mode of thinking and writing that freed him from the grammar of a world he didn’t recognize as his own: concrete poetry became, for Finlay, “a model of order” within a world “full of doubt” (letter to Pierre Garnier, 17 September 1963). The encounter is crucial for Finlay. In POTH 8 (1963) Finlay publishes his first concrete poem, “Homage to Malevich”, and over the next five years he produces some of his greatest hits, including “acrobats” (1964) and “wave/rock” (1966). Much as Finlay used the magazine to establish a safe social space inside a larger, unstable world, so the concrete poem served as a microcosm of stillness and clarity within the disorder of modern life.

The poem-object shown in the images below is a calendar. Published in 1968, it collects twelve of Finlay’s early concrete poems, and is his first real encounter with a US readership. The calendar’s title, The Blue and the Brown Poems, is a reference to Wittgenstein’s Blue and Brown Books, transcriptions of lecture notes in which the philosopher first develops his destabilizing ideas about the relationship between words and meanings. The calendar is larger than you might think: at 20 inches tall, it’s probably too big for your fridge door or the space beside your desk. It asks, unusually for a calendar, for a more monumental setting, hung on a large wall like a framed painting or poster.

The calendar begins, also unusually, in September. This may be a reference to the calendar of the Roman Empire, in which case it’s an early example of Finlay’s interest in classical culture, a central theme of his later work. Each month features a concrete poem printed in color on white paper, accompanied by a short commentary by the critic Stephen Bann.

Yellow title page of The Blue and the Brown poems
FIG 2: The title page of The Blue and the Brown Poems
page from acrobats
FIG 3: ‘acrobats’ (January). This is the same poem seen in the background of the photo at the top of this blog post, an example of the way Finlay reiterated his poems in different ways throughout his career—on walls, in print, in stone, and in glass, as well as in various contexts: in the home, in books, in galleries, and in public spaces.

Finlay believed that concrete poems were for contemplating, so it followed that their ideal presentation was in a place where they could be readily contemplated. The calendar, like the wall or the garden, is a quintessentially Finlayian form. It is a way to turn the poem into something we can live around or within. Underpinning these considerations of form and space is a more fundamental belief in the relationship between poetry and ordinary experience: the calendar is a bridge between the heavens of literary culture and the ovens of real life in the home.

In ‘wave/rock’, the words “wave” and “rock” bear the colors of the sea and the land, and where the two words overlap there is a sonic collision that produces the “wrack”—seaweed washed up on the shore. Visually, the superimposed blue and brown letterforms give an impression of seaweed-covered rocks. A “wrack” is also a wrecked ship, the word suggesting sudden violent damage, and as these two words collide the wreckage miraculously takes on the form of a word for wreckage. In this sense the poem borrows the kind of forces found at sea as metaphors for the kinds of forces found in language.

FIG 4: “wave/rock” (February) The poem was first realized as a glass poem-object in 1966 (pictured here) and later exhibited as a sculpture in a park in Dunfermline, Scotland, in 1969. It was also printed across a page spread in the magazine Aspen. Later still it was realized as a fabric wall hanging

Finlay started out as a writer of short stories and plays. In the middle of his life he found concrete poetry, and he set out on a journey into small-press publishing that would serve as his primary medium of friendship. In the final third of his life he realized the full potential of the concrete poem as a part of a landscape. Later, Finlay disassociated himself from concrete as a movement, because he felt that it did not share his views on the important function of tradition within the avant-garde. Today it is his garden domain, Little Sparta, for which he is best remembered, but at one level the garden is only the final manifestation of a poetic impulse to make enclosures that characterized Finlay’s oeuvre. The social enclosure of the magazine and the press, the aesthetic enclose of the concrete poem, and the physical and philosophical enclosure of the garden: these were ways of dealing with a sickness Finlay had diagnosed in the world and for which he spent his life discovering—oh dearie me, I forget exactly what—let’s say: beautiful cures.

FIG 5: “you / me” (April). The yellow of “you” and the blue of “me” combine to make the compound green of “us”. The two colors then separate again, continuing on a path that is at once shared and separate, on which they are, so to speak, alone together. The metaphor of color—one crucial to Wittgenstein too, we should remember—reminds us that relationships, like compound colors, are more than the sum of their parts. Blue and yellow make something unique, called green, that was in neither, and that cannot be kept if the colors are separated back out.

* * *

When the University of Iowa acquired The Sackner Archive in 2019, work began to unpack and classify the 75,000 works of visual and concrete poetry that Ruth and Marvin Sackner had collected over the course of their lives. Ruth Sackner passed away in 2015, and Marvin Sackner joined her just a few weeks after the Archive’s inaugural exhibition, in September 2019. The work required to process the many books, prints, periodicals, letters, and objects that make up their enormous collection continues behind the scenes, and items from the archive are currently available to view by special request. Over time, the archive will be fully integrated into ArchivesSpace, but even now it is possible to browse the archive here.

Over the course of forty years Finlay published more than a thousand books, booklets, cards, prints and poem-objects, many through his publishing imprint Wild Hawthorn Press. It’s clear that Ruth and Marvin Sackner were enormous fans of Finlay’s work, because their collection contains several hundred of these publications.  It’s a rich seam, and one that is still largely unexplored.

 

FURTHER READING

In print:

Yves Abrioux and Stephen Bann, Ian Hamilton Finlay: A Visual Primer (London: Reaktion Books, 1985; 2nd edition, revised and expanded, 1994)

A Model of Order: Selected Letters for Ian Hamilton Finlay, ed. Thomas A Clark (Glasgow: Wax366, 2009)

Patrick Eyres, “Gardens of Exile”, New Arcadian Journal 10 (1983)

Ian Hamilton Finlay: Selections, ed. Alec Finlay (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012)

Wood Notes Wild: Essays on the Poetry of Ian Hamilton Finlay, ed. Alec Finlay (Edinburgh: Polygon, 1995)

Ian Hamilton Finlay, Rapel: 10 Fauve and Suprematist Poems (Edinburgh: Wild Hawthorn Press, 1963)

John Dixon Hunt, Nature Over Again: The Garden Art of Ian Hamilton Finlay (London: Reaktion Books, 2008)

Caitlin Murray and Tim Johnson, eds., The Present Order: Writings on the Work of Ian Hamilton Finlay (Marfa, TX: Marfa Book Company, 2011)

Jessie Sheeler, Little Sparta: The Garden of Ian Hamilton Finlay, Photographs by Andrew Lawson (London: Frances Lincoln, 2003)

 

Online:

Carli Teproff, “A force on the Miami art scene, Ruth Sackner dies at 79”, Miami Herald, October 12, 2015. https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/obituaries/article38777727.html

Andres Viglucci, “Marvin Sackner, a physician, inventor and renowned collector of word art, has died”, Miami Herald, September 30, 2020 https://www.miamiherald.com/article246121525.html?fbclid=IwAR1Tur1UbivcjHp3HaTx6AN2r8KJNNYXIcdFQc0meVeUXPieXJvQYhuUEJ8

Padded Cell Pictures, Concrete! (documentary about Marvin and Ruth Sackner) https://www.kaltura.com/index.php/extwidget/preview/partner_id/1004581/uiconf_id/15920232/entry_id/1_bv84gwjw/embed/dynamic?

Sackner Archive Live Exhibition. 

Sackner Archive Exhibition Guide. 

University of Iowa Library Guide to the Sackner Archive. 

Jan 12 2022

Jacques Auguste de Thou, the romantic

Posted on by Elizabeth Riordan

The following was written by Camille Davis, curatorial assistant to Dr. Eric Ensley 

Jacques Auguste de Thou (8 October 1553, Paris – 7 May 1617, Paris), also known by his Latin name, Thuanus, was a French historian and president of the Parliament of Paris. He was also the key negotiator in the Edict of Nantes with the French Huegonots. In special collections libraries, he is known by his distinct provenance bindings that leave a trail of his history throughout the stacks. 

Fig. 1 showing de Thou and his second wife Gasparde de La Chastre’s coat of arms with conjoint monogram “I A G”. Image from Provenance Online Project on Flickr

While he inherited his father’s library in 1583, de Thou was also known to be an avid book collector himself. Unlike other collectors, his books have three distinct decorative styles that inform us of when in his life he acquired these books. As the Conservation Online database notes, “many of [de Thou’s] books were simply bound in red, olive, or citron colored morocco, with plain boards, a few border lines in gilt, and his coat of arms in the center of the upper cover, surrounded by laurel branches, but with only the title and his cipher on the spine” (“Jacques Auguste de Thou”). This distinctive style makes his bindings particularly easy to spot when pulling from the stacks. The first binding style is simply his coat of arms: argent, a chevron between three sable flies, and his initials. We know that he had these books bound when he was a bachelor as his other two bindings were always ciphers of his coat of arms and initials. When he was married to his first wife, Marie Barbançon, the provenance bindings seamlessly integrate his sable fly insignia with her triple lion coat-of-arms. A cipher of their initials also appears at the bottom of this gilt binding (Fig.1). After she dies and he is remarried to Gasparde de la Chastre, he will once more ask for his custom bindings to represent their shared coat of arms. After his death, his son, François Auguste de Thou would continue to have books bound with this final cipher. This moving tribute to both of his parents also can make it difficult to discern which of the De Thous had the book bound. 

Typically, these coats of arms are gilt and are on plain brown calf bindings that have minimal tooling. However, the British Library, specifically, has many particularly interesting bindings that had belonged to de Thou. Karen Limper-Herz, binding expert and the curator of incunabula at the British Library, has previously discussed how de Thou, as a bachelor, had several lovely green and gold gilt fanfare bindings made for him as a bachelor. Another book in the British Library’s holdings that is distinctly different than his later bindings is a painted goatskin binding that was bound for de Thou during his marriage with his second wife, Gasparde de la Chastre.

Fig 2. showing coat of arms of de Thou and his first wife Marie Barbançon, with conjoint monogram “I A M” below. Image from Camille Davis, Special Collections & Archives

During the time that we have been recataloging the 16th century books at the University of Iowa Special Collections & Archives, we have spotted at least one of de Thou’s bindings and we certainly expect that there are more yet to be discovered in the stacks. The binding that was spotted was from the time when de Thou was married to his first wife, Marie Barbançon. As is typical for de Thou’s bindings, a laurel wreath surrounds their insignias (Fig. 2). Above the combined coats-of-arms, there is a ribbon that says “Jac August Thaunus.” In the center of the coats-of-arms is a cipher of the combined “IAT” (the “I” being a replacement for “J” at the time) and “M” so that both spouses are represented. 

Fascinatingly, this book is a copy of letters to and responses from John Calvin as well as “several letters from distinguished men in the church of God” (or, as the title actually is in Latin, “Ioannis Calvini Epistolae et responsa: quibus interiectae sunt insignium in ecclesia Dei virorum aliquot etiam epistolae,” FOLIO BX9420 .A5). Since we know that this book was in de Thou’s possession, it gives further proof of how he was actively reading the work of the major Protestant minds of the time so that he might be able to work with them on behalf of the French government. If it were ever possible, it would be compelling to see a full compendium of the works in his library so that more could be known about which works de Thou thought were the most relevant to his time, his life and his work. 

It is likely that the University of Iowa has more of de Thou’s bindings within their stacks. After de Thou’s death, his collection of 13,000 books became the property of Jean-Jacques Charron before they were sold off in 1789. Since that time, these books have found happy homes in many special collection stacks. However, unless a library is particularly attuned to those researchers who wish to search library catalogs for bindings and provenance, like the British Library or the Koninklijke Bibliotheek, then it can be particularly hard to find these bindings. Another interesting future digital humanities project would be to follow where all of de Thou’s books ended up; especially if a significant portion ended up in publicly accessible holdings. Then we would be able to piece together a more complete portrait of what books this significant bibliophile, statesman and historian of the 16th century found to be the most valuable books both for his own edification and for his writing. It would have significant implications for the book trade of the time. But, until such a project could happen, we will have to keep one eye open for this unique cipher that winks at us whenever we pass through the stacks. 

 

Works Cited

“Thou, Jacques Auguste De ( 1553-1617 ).” [CoOL], https://cool.culturalheritage.org/don/dt/dt3491.html. 

Torn up book page
Sep 27 2021

Insights Gained Regarding Illustrations in Books of Hours

Posted on by Elizabeth Riordan

“From the Classroom” is a series that features some of the great work and research from students who visit our collections. Below is a blog by Allison Clark from Dr. Beth Yale’s class Transition from Manuscript to Print (HIST: 4920:0001).

Insights Gained Regarding Illustrations in Books of Hours

By Allison Clark

Entering Special Collections for the first time can be, to put it plainly, intimidating. That is to say that no one wants to be the person who accidentally tears a page, leaves a smudge, or, heaven forbid, forgets to wash their hands. But, after a couple visits, familiarity starts to sink in. Suddenly, you instinctively go to wash your hands before handling a book and you know where to turn the page to avoid damage (spoiler: in the middle, not the corner). Once you have moved past the initial feelings of intimidation and take the opportunity to study a book intimately, Special Collections & Archives is a fantastic resource for learning on campus, as I have come to learn. The following are the results from my time spent in Special Collections & Archives, specifically my encounters with three books: Book of Hours of Martine Sesander (xMMs.Bo10), Book of Hours (xMMs.Bo5), and Ces Presentes Heueres (BX2080.A2 1502). My research focuses on the insights that each of these books offers into different practices and aspects relating to illustrations in books of hours.

Books of hours were Christian prayer books that allowed lay people to participate in the liturgy, and they evolved from the books that clergy, monks, and nuns would use for reciting prayers throughout the day. They were extremely popular in their day and have been described as a “best-seller in medieval and early modern Europe” (Reinburg). Initially, they were “given as gifts to the noble patrons of monasteries and convents” (Reinburg). Later on, once lay people began to have more control over their circulation, books of hours began to be commissioned by the wealthy. As usership increased, they were essentially divided into two groups: the luxurious, heavily illuminated manuscripts and the less decorated and thoughtfully designed manuscripts. Then, once the technology of printing was introduced, books of hours became even more accessible, though the appearance of them eventually changed, including the illustrations. The illustrations in books of hours are a particularly integral part of these devotional books. Illustrations served three primary functions. First, they were decorative and “added to the book’s value and splendor” (Reinburg). They also added structure and aided those who were illiterate, guiding the reader through the book. Finally, they were devotional and “offered a focus for prayer and meditation” (Reinburg). Essentially, illustrations would have functioned as “painted prayers” (University of Glasgow Special Collections).  Since illustrations in books of hours are so important, there is a lot to learn surrounding different aspects and practices associated with them, as is evidenced by Book of Hours of Martine Sesander, Book of Hours, and Ces Presentes Heueres.

portrait of Mary and Jesus in medieval manuscript
Evidence of wear on miniature
illuminated margins in tiny book of hours
Heavily decorated marginside Book of Hours of Martine Sesander

 

Book of Hours of Martine Sesander (xMMs.Bo10)

 

Book of Hours of Martine Sesander (xMMs.Bo10) is a small manuscript from 1465 written in Latin. According to the University of Iowa Libraries catalog, this book likely came from Belgium, a likelihood based on the saints mentioned in the book. There is a gold inscription in the back of the book that identifies an early user as Martine Sesander, thus the title. It has striking dark green cover with gold details and  is highly illustrated with features illuminated throughout the book, floral decorations in the margins, and six full-page miniatures. Book of Hours of Martine Sesander (xMMs.Bo10) stands out because there is evidence of the physical ritual of kissing and rubbing images in this book of hours. What is particularly interesting about books of hours, is the personal relationship that users had with these books, and this relationship is seen in the act of rubbing and kissing devotional manuscripts, which was a common practice. Christians “kissed images in their prayer books, just as the priest would have kissed the missal during Mass” (Rudy). Furthermore, readers were selective about which images they would rub or kiss. Looking closely at the illustration of Mary and Jesus, there are signs of wear over Jesus’s left shoulder where the paint has been rubbed away. This suggests one user of this book was drawn to this illustration, which begs the question of why this one? When looking at signs of wear, the illustrations in books of hours, like this one, offer a unique look into the religious lives and devotional practices of their owners.

Torn up book page
More evidence of cutting images from book.
Open book showing illumination
Remaining illustration and evidence of cutting

 Book of Hours (xMMs.Bo5)

This book of hours is hard to miss with its bright pink leather cover and white leather clasp, which was rebound in 1998 by Pam Spitzmeuller.  It is a French parchment manuscript written in Latin. According to the library catalog, Book of Hours (xMMs.Bo5) was made in the second half of the fifteenth century in France, determined by the inclusion of the Paris calendar. This book has vibrant capitals in gold and blue and decoration in the margins, with illumination throughout. The illustrations in this book, or rather lack thereof, offer insight into the practice of cutting up manuscripts for their decorations. Sadly, this book only has one full page illustration of Mary remains. The floral designs in the margins have also been mutilated. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, the nature of this manuscript is not uncommon, according to librarian Christopher de Hamel. It seems there are a variety of reasons for cutting up manuscripts. For instance, there are stories of libraries giving out clippings from pages as gifts to visitors. There are also cases of children cutting out initials and using them to practice spelling out their names, which is almost amusing, save the destruction of artwork. In addition, manuscript owners would cut up their own books to display them in a portfolio or album, like a scrapbook. Of course, clippings are also sold, and sellers would create albums of manuscript clippings for buyers. These clippings would sell for such high prices that it would have been tempting not to partake in this destruction.

“The deliberate destruction of any unique work of art can only be regarded as unforgivable vandalism.”

-Christopher de Hamel, July 1995

The practice of selling leaves or clippings out of manuscripts continues, although collectors rarely admit to cutting up their own manuscripts and pass the blame onto previous owners (de Hamel). To play devil’s advocate, there are reasons that this practice could potentially be justified. Clippings and leaves allow for manuscripts to be more accessible to more people, since it is easier for libraries and museums to purchase single sheets as opposed to an entire book. They also are easier to store, conserve, and exhibit. And, of course, there is the economic argument, as clippings do sell well. This being said, the practice does remain controversial, and some, such as de Hamel, cannot excuse it. Of course, it should be noted that the manuscript was already in this condition when purchased by the University of Iowa. The damage has been done, but even this damage provides information on book users and the practice of cutting up manuscripts.

Full page illustration printed on parchment
Full page illustration printed on parchment
printed work on parchment
Hand-painted lettering with heavy illustrated margins

Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502)

Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502) is a French book of hours written in Latin with four leaves of French prayers at the end. It has a wooden cover with a leather clasp, and the initials have been stylized in blue and red paint. Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502) is different than the other books of hours discussed above because it is a printed book and not a handwritten manuscript. However, Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502) is printed on parchment, which indicates an overlap of manuscript and printing practices. Therefore, this book offers insight into the effect that the printing industry had on books of hours.

The new technology of printing did not eliminate manuscripts. While the invention of print did make books of hours more accessible to laypeople, manuscript books of hours continued to be produced and remained popular well after the invention of printing (Reinburg).  In addition, there is evidence of scribes copying printed books into manuscripts, showing how scribal work continued to be valued well into the era of printing (Drimmer). Initially, printed books of hours were even created to look like manuscripts, as we can see with the blue and red lettering found within the book.

Eventually, they began to take their own form and started to feature heavily illustrated borders and many full-page illustrations (Reinburg). This is seen in Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502), which is riddled with illustrations. Nearly every page has pictures in the margins as well as many full-page illustrations. It has been said, however, that “as a work of art, the book of hours lost some luster by moving into print” (Reinburg). It could also be suggested that perhaps the quantity of the images was to make up for the fact that they were printed, instead of hand illustrated, or to show off the new technology (Riordan). However, there is no doubt that the illustrations in Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502) are extremely detailed, which is arguably just as, if not more, impressive as the paintings in the manuscript copies. 

One particularly interesting portion was a series of pages which showed the character Death, depicted as a skeleton, coming to take away all different kinds of people, including powerful figures like a king and the Pope. One cannot help but wonder (how readers would feel seeing these images of Death escorting representations of themselves to the next life. Due to the fact that this book is printed on parchment and includes hand-drawn elements on the lettering, Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502) acts as an example for how printing did not completely replace the traditions of manuscript books.

These three books, each reveal different aspects of illustrations in books of hours. The worn illustrations of Book of Hours of Martine Sesander (xMMs. Bo10) disclose a glimpse into the religious life and habits of its reader and demonstrate the personal relationship owners had with their books of hours. The mutilated pages of Book of Hours (xMMs. Bo5) make plain the evolving relationship with these books and the ever so controversial practice of cutting up manuscripts. And, finally, the detailed illustrations and parchment pages of Ces Presentes Heures (BX2080.A2 1502) offer insight into the transition and overlap between manuscript and print. Each of these books offers a unique look into the past and how illustrations in books of hours were used, abused, and changed overtime.

 

Bibliography

de Hamel, Christopher. “Cutting Up Manuscripts for Pleasure and Profit.” Rare Book School Lectures. Lecture, July 1995.

Drimmer, Sonja. “Introduction: The Manuscript Copy and the Printed Original in the Digital Present.” Digital Philology: A Journal of Medieval Cultures 9, no. 2 (2020).

“Fifteenth Century Book of Hours.” University of Glasgow Special Collections, December 2006. <https://www.gla.ac.uk/myglasgow/library/files/special/exhibns/month/dec2006.html>

Reinburg, V. (2012). French books of hours : Making an archive of prayer, c.1400–1600. ProQuest Ebook Central <https://ebookcentral.proquest.com>

Riordan, Elizabeth. Personal communication, University of Iowa Special Collections & Archives, March 30,2021.

Rudy, Kathryn M. “Kissing Images, Unfurling Rolls, Measuring Wounds, Sewing Badges and Carrying Talismans: Considering Some Harley Manuscripts Through the Physical Rituals

They Reveal.” British Library, 2011.

University of Iowa Library Catalog, “Book of Hours of Martine Sesander (Use of Rome)”.

University of Iowa Library Catalog, Catholic Church. (1499). Ces presentes heures a lusaig. de Tou : au long sans requerir.

University of Iowa Library Catalog, Spitzmueller, Pamela J., Ficke, Charles August, & University of Iowa. Libraries. Special Collections Department. (n.d.). Book of Hours, second half of the 15th century.

Wijsman, Hanno. Books in Transition at the Time of Philip the Fair. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2010.

“Willem Vrelant (Getty Museum).” The J. Paul Getty in Los Angeles.