Thursday, July 14, 2011

A Fresh Eye

One of the great things you experience upon returning home from rare books school, is the ability, after a an intensive week of study, to look at a collection or a project with a fresh eye and a renewed sense of vigor for the work. It is no different for me.

One of the first things I did upon my return was wander down to the RBR and take a long look at some of our oldest books: a set of the Decretales (in canon law, these are letters from the pope)from 1588 and a set of the Pandectarum, from 1590. All of these books are bound in a very rugged vellum. It may be these bindings have suffered over time, or perhaps, as materials were scarce, the vellum is a product of reuse and recycling. Thick raised bands cross the spine, and titles are hand lettered, but there are other details that these books share in common. They've been vandalized.


When I first arrived on the job here, back in February, I took a gander at these books. I wasn't expecting to find anything of this age and it was quite a surprise to see these thick books in their vellum bindings on the shelf. But more surprising still, were unmistakable marks of ownership that lead me to believe these books were all donated by the same person.


I've been researching the provenance of these volumes whenever I've had a spare minute ever since. They're uncatalogued and so, they're on my list of things to do. However, in order to move past the "do" into the "done" list I need to know a bit more about them. Finally, after checking accession and donor records I discovered the donor's name - and it turns out to be someone I've met along life's journey.


How would I know these books had come from a single donor, you might ask? What was the tip off and how were they vandalized? It was right in front of my face. The first place a librarian turns to in a book is the title page. If the title page is missing a whole realm of detective work must commence. Indeed, some title pages were missing, and others had the printer's device cut from the title page. It does make things not only unattractive, with threads loose and torn page fragments hanging in shreds, but this kind of missing and crucial information is not always easy to track down.


When I was at RBS I made sure to inquire about tracking down this information. I learned that many book history scholars, when confronted with this kind of damage, rely on Google Books as a tool. Simply deciding on a key phrase and "googling" it can often lead to the answer. I'm still working on that one. Since I don't speak or read Latin, knowing just exactly which phrase to use, and I've tried many at this point, has proven a bit difficult. Needless to say, I'm still on the case.


So, why would someone take the trouble to rip out the title page and/or cut out the printer's device, an engraved illustration that denotes which printing house printed the text? The simple answer is because they're beautiful. Title pages or printer's devices from this period are woodcuts and often quite beautiful. Many times collectors cut these attractive plates from the books, including any illustrations that may have been inside, and hung them on the walls of their personal library.


And here's something else I learned about title pages from Rare Book School - extra title pages were often printed and used as advertisements or fliers posted around town to alert potential buyers to the availability of a new work and where to purchase it. Many of us have seen, under the printer's name on old English books, a phrase similar to "under the Sign of the Unicorn." That's the printer's address. You could find the book there and purchase it from the very shop where it was printed.


Now that I have one of the mysteries about these books solved, I'll be able to add a bookplate denoting the donor and I'm one step closer to cataloging them. And by the way, I'm not blaming the donor. With a history of over 400 years behind these books there's been plenty of time for title pages and printer's devices to have been cut and ravaged along the way.


And tomorrow? I think we'll pick up a magnifying glass and take a look at all the ideas I generated for the rare book room and it's collections from my week at Rare Book School. Until then, dear readers, adieu!

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