Sunday, January 25, 2009

inaugural bibles

I can't resist an update to my last blog on the Bibles being used for the Inauguration of President Obama. First, two pictures of that moment with President Obama's hand on Abraham Lincoln's Bible:

(photo taken by Elise Amendola for the AP Pool)

(photo was taken by Chuck Kennedy; more photos of the Inauguration can be found through the Boston Globe's The Big Picture--the page will take a few moments to load.)

Together, these two photos give a wonderful sense of the moment--Barack Obama's hand on the Bible, his family with him all beaming with joy. Of course, what the pictures can't show are the words being spoken. Words that, as we all know, were not exactly as they should have been and that had to be repeated, "out of an abundance of caution," the following day. There's a lot that could be said about oaths and speech act theory. But this is a blog about books.

I stand by my earlier assertion that it was the presence of Lincoln's Bible that made explicit the connection between the two Presidents and the hopes that are riding on Obama's presidency. But the Bible that seemed to be draw the most attention that day was Vice-President Biden's, that big family tome with the great clasps:

(photo taken by Mark Wilson for the AP Pool)

I make that assertion based on the number of hits my blog got from viewers googling for more information. I got 68 visits from a combination of 44 keywords related to Biden and Bible. But I got just about no hits for surfers looking for more information on the Bible Obama used. Why was that? The bigger Bible gets the most attention? Biden is more interesting than Obama? Clasps are better than red velvet? The obvious answer is that the media had covered the story about Lincoln's Bible, repeatedly. But most of the country had not heard about Biden's family Bible. When faced with something that visible and that unknown, Google is your friend. And now, thanks to the internet and cable news, Biden's Bible is famous. And some lucky surfers now know more about early modern books than when they started.

Monday, January 19, 2009

bibles for historical occasions

When Barack Obama is sworn in as the 44th President of the United States, he will be using the same Bible that Abraham Lincoln used at his first inauguration in 1861. Much has been made of the symbolism of the moment, and of the many connections between the two men from Illinois, the one who freed the slaves and the one who will be our first African-American President.

The physical presence of Lincoln's Bible is key to making that connection explicit. It's not a physically imposing bible, as you can see from pictures. It's easily held, bound in burgundy velvet with gilt edges.

What I find the most interesting about it is that although it holds a great deal of significance to us, it did not for Lincoln. Lincoln's own family Bible was still en route to Washington with the rest of his belongings, so Supreme Court Clerk William Thomas Carroll purchased this Bible for the swearing-in ceremony. The Bible itself (an 1853 Oxford edition) was opened to a random page when the oath was administered. (There's a compilation of inaugural Bibles used and scriptures chosen put together by the Library of Congress.) But the importance of this object is brought home in Carroll's inscription at the end, certifying that this is the copy of the Bible that was used to swear in President Lincoln.

(A full set of images of Lincoln's Bible is on flickr.)

Lincoln's Bible is in contrast to the one that Joe Biden will be using when he is sworn in as Vice-President. He'll be using the same Bible that he's used every time he was sworn in as a senator, and that his son has used as Delaware's Attorney General, a Bible that has been in the family since 1893. As you can see from this photo (taken for the New York Times by Stephen Crowley), in which his wife Jill pretends to be staggering under its weight, this is no easily carried book.

According to news reports, Biden almost didn't have the Bible with him for the Senate swearing-in, but made it in time, complete with jokes about its size. (There's a nice story about this in Delaware Online.) Jokes aside, though, it is clearly something that is important to Biden and an integral part of how he sees taking office.

I've been struck with these stories about the Bibles being used for this Presidential Inauguration, and for others, because they aren't about what the Bible means. That isn't irrelevant, by any means. I happen to be fond of the story about John Quincy Adams, who took his oath of office upon a "Volume of Laws" because it was the Constitution he was swearing to protect. But what is driving so many of these stories is an emphasis on the physical book itself. Biden's Bible has been passed on through his family for generations. When Obama lays his hand on the Bible to become our 44th President, he is touching the same book that our 16th President did. The physical book makes connections through the generations.

I'll close with a couple of images of historical Bibles in the Folger's collections. Neither will ever be chosen to swear in a new President, and that's just as well--I don't think their resonances will play as smoothly.

The first is a copy of the 1568 Great Bible presented to Queen Elizabeth and probably used in her private chapel. It is bound in a crimson velvet with silver clasps and bosses engraved with Tudor roses and her coat of arms. It's a lovely book. (Full catalogue record here.)

The second is less beautiful but perhaps more haunting. It's a Salisbury Book of Hours that was given to Henry VIII by Anne of Cleves, also known as wife number four. At the back of the book she has written, "I besiche your grace h[umble?] when ye loke on this remember me. yo[u]r gracis assured anne the dowgher of cleues." (See the catalogue record.)

What did Henry think when he looked upon this? I can't imagine. But I do like knowing that she got to keep her head long after his had been laid to rest. Perhaps her Book of Hours helped her navigate her way past him.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

learning to be wise

It's that time of year again: another semester and more learning and teaching to be done! In honor, once again, of all of us involved in those activities, here's a look another book that will help us "learn to be wise."

Last fall, the book with which I started off the semester was a copy of Lily's Grammar, the standard Latin textbook of the period. I'm not sure if that book will exactly help you to be wise, although it was certainly used to help you master your early modern Latin. This time, the book I'm focusing on is Johann Comenius's Orbis sensualium pictus, or, A World of Things Obvious to the Senses Drawn in Pictures. Comenius's book, first published in 1658 in Latin and German, is often described as the first children's picture book. His intent was to teach children not only how to read, but how to be wise. That wasn't an unusual aim for the time. What was new was his method: using pictures of worldly activities and objects to engage his young readers.

Last time I mentioned Comenius, I used his illustration of a scholar at his study to start off my post. Above is the illustration for writing: a table laid out with the implements for and examples of different kinds of writing. On the right side are the various instruments, keyed by numbers in the text to the details in the illustration:

The Ancients writ in Tables done over with Wax with a brasen Poitrel, 1. with the sharp end 2. whereof Letters were engraven, and rubbed out again with the broad end 3.

Afterwards they writ Letters with a small Reed. 4.

As you can see from the picture below, the book uses shifts between blackletter, roman, and italic fonts to differentiate between those things illustrated and between the different languages. (My italics are a small attempt to transcribe the shift between blackletter and roman.)

The text continues on the next page to describe how "we" write today:

We use a Goos-quill, 5. the Stem 6. of which we make with a Pen-kife; 7. then we dip the neb in an Ink-horn, 8. which is stopped with a Stopple, 9. and we put our Pens into a Pennar. 10.

We dry a writing with Blotting-paper, or Calis-sand, out of a Sand-box, 11.

And we indeed, write from the left hand, towards the right; 12. the Hebrews from the right-hand towards the left; 13. the Chinois, and other Indians, from the top downwards. 14.
One of the fun things about this book for me is the descriptions of activities related to book history--there are pages not only for the scholar and for writing, but for paper, printing, the book-seller's shop, the book-binder, and even for a book. I don't have images for all of those, but on Google Books you can find the 1887 edition of Orbis pictus, which reuses the 1658 illustrations.

Comenius's impact on children's education and book history is huge. His method for engaging children through pictures and narratives about the world around us not only made his book tremendously popular, it has shaped nearly all such books since. His method is wholly familiar to us today--it's how we routinely teach our kids to read. In fact, what Orbis pictus reminds me most strongly of is Richard Scarry's stories about Busytown. And let me tell you, as someone whose children love my old copies of Richard Scarry, wow is that a book that appeals to little kids! (You can see a few images from Busy, Busy Town and What Do People Do All Day? on Amazon.)

Comenius's Orbis pictus starts off with a dialogue between The Master and a Boy which lays out concisely the purpose not only of his book, but of all subsequent children's books:

M. Come Boy learn to be wise.
P. What doth this mean, To be wise.
M. To understand rightly, to do rightly, and to speak out rightly, all that are necessary.

Comenius's book is organized not only around A World of Things Obvious to the Senses--or what people do all day--but in an order that makes sense of that world rightly. The book moves from God then the World through all the worldly activities and objects until we reach Gods Providence and the last Judgment.

Naming the world around us to children always means embedding that world in our moral structure, from where we begin and end our narrative to how we describe the activities that take place in the world. It's one of the qualities that can make children's books so rewarding to study. Richard Scarry's steady popularity makes it possible to trace the ways in which children's books like these reflect our societal worldview--see this great Flickr set for some images comparing the 1963 and 1991 editions of The Best Word Book Ever. Given that my kids read my childhood Richard Scarry, we still name the handsome pilot and pretty stewardess. But I've never noticed the screaming lady--something to look forward to the next time my little one drags it out!

Thursday, January 1, 2009

happy new year

My 2009 has already gotten off to a rocking start: I am delighted and honored that Wynken de Worde has gotten a 2008 Cliopatria Award for Best New Blog. I started this blog last summer by sharing it with just a few friends, and have been slowly expanding its audience since then with the help of Folger denizens and other early modern bloggers. I've been grateful to all of you who have been following what I've been thinking about, commenting and linking and sharing your thoughts about books and early modern culture. In this age (yet again!) of information overload, I'm honored that you include my posts in your wanderings. And I'm looking forward to more posts: there's more to say about the Folger's digital collection, the use of woodcuts, how books act as social transactions, and even about Frances Wolfreston!

So happy new year wishes to all of you. May your 2009 be full of books and reading, information and beauty, solitary pleasures and social joys, the past and the future--and may your path never cross with bookworms or computer viruses!