preservation and imprint

“Those who have greatly cared for any book whatever
may possibly come to care, some day, for good books.
The organs of appreciation exist in them.”

~ C. S. Lewis, The World's Last Night.

Beginning to look back at my studies at Oxford, and how they continue on, my sense of direction is reinforced. While thoughts linger and digest the rich experiences of the late-summer and early autumn past, I proceed to absorb new learning with renewed perspective. Though I’ve been backlogged in my writing projects, I’ve continued my usual reading and note-taking. It seems natural to nurture a thirsting spirit with persevering studies into inspiring literature. It is also evidently unavoidable. Just the other day, at the Boston Athenaeum, the slant of late-day light streaming in through west-facing windows lit the small ancient book in my hands. The side-lighting cast shadows from paper fibers and into typographic embossed crevasses. Such tomes that reflect the light of this very day attest to worlds and times beyond the generations of our ancestors.

As with the memories and lyrics we carry with us, so our received words of inspiration help to carry us along this earthly sojourn. That which I have beheld and handled, and have even listened to, in the tones of written words, occurs to me now as having been made available to me. Whether across millennia, centuries, or modern decades, enduring words are gratefully received as they are handed down and across to my fledgling hands. At the Bodleian Library, the books and documents of my studies came from many different places- and I myself had done so, too. Words and images have reached me, as I have reached for them, and their origins share a collective mystery with their conveyance to this present era.


books

At Oxford, I was elated to find the Bodleian preserves and maintains a manuscript of Johannes Scottus Eriugena (9th c.), who has been dear to me for many years. Supporting research into the works of his thought, the library also includes a collection of printed offerings about Eriugena and early Medieval philosophy. I even found a contemporary publication about Eriugena, at the Oxford University Press bookstore, and added it to my own collection. The constraints of long-distance travel limited how many books I could fly back with (and how many I could mail), due to their weight.

Another volume well worth procuring was a book I learned about as my steps traversed paths left by Tyndale (16th c.), and that is Sir Thomas Wilson’s Arte of Rhetorique, originally published in 1553. The edition I purchased is an imprint published at the University’s Clarendon Press in 1909. It had been artfully made to replicate the quality of a 16th century book, using thick paper stock, replicating the original typography, marginalia, and frontispiece illustration.

Written by the headmaster of Magdalen College, the work itself had been a textbook used at Oxford in Tyndale’s years, and had instructed and influenced countless scholars. Its themes treat the subjects of eloquence, oration, and the clear organization of knowledge. Often the text blends in the author’s reasons for clarity of thought, which are to reflect the sacred. Sir Thomas dares his readers to excavate the ways of holiness: “Who would digge and delve from Morne till Evening? Who would travaile and toyle with ye sweat of his browes?” The wise advice presented by the book is strongly reminiscent of Eriugena’s spirit of division and recollection (divisoria et resolutiva). Ancient guides continue to teach.


conservation

Being an archivist and conservator by trade and livelihood, I was graciously introduced by the Bodleian staff to the university’s conservation department, known as Collections Care. Responding to their generous invitation, I was privileged to spend a day at the bindery and laboratory. The department is located in Osney, along the River Thames, in a western district of the city. Reaching the “Osney One” complex from the university provided an opportunity to walk along a very narrow stretch of the river. Lined with canal boats and trees, the walk to Osney is a meditative diversion from the city center’s density and crowds.

Repositories of rare and archival research materials balance the tandem mission of preservation and access. We preserve in order to assure availability. There may seem an inherent conflict, as handling could be seen to be endangering preservation, and watchful conservation could be seen as an endangerment to potential handling. Inevitably, research libraries establish workable compromises that protect the integrity of original artifacts, while also extending opportunities to readers. Continuity in physical conservation parallels the continuum of scholarly access.

Conservation of a medieval book : rebinding the signatures
(gathers of pages).

The paper conservators at Osney demonstrated how they had been processing the personal papers of radio pioneer Guglielmo Marconi, as the collection had been accessioned by Oxford. The documents were being mounted in fascicules, which are interleaved archival albums. The same treatments had been done with the C. S. Lewis papers, and subsequently as I proceeded with my studies in the research rooms, I remembered what I had seen at Osney. Careful inventorying, cataloguing, and physical treatments all happen before a manuscript or rare book reaches the library shelves and reading tables.

New binding, cords, and custom-fitted
wooden boards, to be covered with new leather.

Along with some great discussions about our respective projects, we examined the conservation phases of a medieval book of hours. The book had been purchased for the university, because in its contents there is mention of Oxford. Requiring a full-scale restoration, the book needed to be rebound and recased using the most authentic materials possible. A specific type of leather was chosen, to stretch over the new signature cords, and custom shaped wooden boards that had been purchased from a lumber company in Wales that supplies the Bodleian Library. There are numerous such tomes in the Library’s collections, each requiring their own treatments- whether extensive or simple maintenance. Archival material has its own axiology, and we speak of the value of the original artifact as being evidence of an action, or a person’s creative thought, or the documentation of decisions. The intrinsic value of a manuscript often refers to the integrity of an original artifact which cannot be replicated because it is the item that had been written upon, owned by a specific person, or had made a historic voyage.

oxford university press

Written words are preserved and rejuvenated by conservation. For centuries, the printed word has been produced with presses, bound, and further extended. (Electronic formats extend the contents of the printed word still more.) During my residency in Oxford, I had the pleasure of visiting the famous Oxford University Press, and meeting with their archives’ staff. The Press is a department of the University, and its printing operations began in 1478, shortly after Johannes Gutenberg’s innovations with moveable type and printing presses. Oxford University Press has been at its present location, on Walton Street, since 1830, having been previously based in the Sheldonian Theatre (in the 17th century), and in the Clarendon Building (in the 18th century). It came to mind how great many of my graduate school texts were produced by Oxford, which also includes their academic Clarendon Press. The large buildings at Walton Street include an informative gallery of artifacts displaying milestones in the continuing history of Oxford University Press. A visit is well worthwhile.

Printing press at Oxford University Press













Oxford English Dictionary display.
Documents below are Dictionary editorial notes made by
J.R.R. Tolkien, who contributed to production.

Returning to my work at the Bodleian Library, I unavoidably noticed spine labels bearing the Oxford Press imprint on countless books in the reading rooms and aisles of shelving. I subsequently noticed this, back in New England libraries, and amusingly back in my apartment. As with my research, the visits with Collections Care, as well as Oxford University Press, have added an enhanced sensitivity to the artistry related to the sustenance of written artifacts.


reading on

Bodleian Library

Travelling on, and reading on, written and printed words speak in bolder tones to my mind’s ear. Readings which inspire most embody a totality of sound, substance, and typographic aesthetic beauty. Illuminated thoughts reach me by reflectant pages. Words combine to transfer a message which is received and transposed by my reading. Or by your reading. Written words adorn the roads of our reading voyages, and I have seen my own path has definitively navigated ports and passages of places which inspire future articulation.

the society of books

“These momentary chances we covet, and spend our years
and passions and powers in pursuit of little more than these;
while meantime there is a society continually open to us...
lingering patiently, not to grant audience but to gain it,
in those plainly furnished and narrow anterooms,
our bookcase shelves!”

~ John Ruskin, The Society of Books, from Of King’s Treasuries.

refuge in motion

Along the pilgrimage, this lifelong voyage turning with earth’s curvature, I’m occasionally able to find intermittent respite. Retreats I’ve discovered along the way have become my hospitable way-stations. But halting the paces of obligations and survival demands is both rare and earned through extraordinary strain. And although my returns to the fray are often hard landings between contrasting situations, the retreats continue to be enormously worthwhile. Years of intermissions cultivate enduring touchstones to inspire daily enterprises and illuminate roads ahead. Experiences provide reminders, yet I’ve still to refine a skill of translating healthful ambience from retreats to workaday life. At the same time, I recognize some inherent dissonance between spiritual priorities and market-driven motivation. The individual soul must invariably choose which master to serve.

This time, the spans without respite draw my interest. Arid stretches of unknown duration, paralleled by constant and vigilant striving, are surely times during which a consistent awareness of sanctity is vital. Finding refuge while in motion, without being able to sufficiently stop, is the challenge. During a recent lunch break, I looked to the skies and thought about long haul aircraft that refuel while airborne. Then I remembered my training in art education, being taught to provide “in-process reinforcement.” With every subject I’ve taught, to this day, the value of checking by conversational reinforcing that a new concept is understood has more than proven its worth. Recalling these ideas caused me to consider refining a presence of mind that can better reinforce in process, that can maintain fuel levels, even when respite time cannot be procured. Thoughts of refuge returned to me the other day, while ensconced aboard a Boston subway train; recharging while in motion. I had been listening to inspiring music, during my transit to visit libraries and friends. Transit provides productive moments for written reflection.

liminal

Ordinarily, the concept of liminal space is associated with brief, transitional times; short spans between stages. Threshold lengths amidst broader adventures along a soul’s pilgrimage of trust constitute the liminal connectors. It is expected that- once noticed- a space between pursuits or phases of life will be short-lived. And what if they aren’t? How long before liminal becomes an indefinite way of being? How permanent is temporary, and how temporary is what we assume to be permanent? Perhaps the present is a protracted exercise in my learned perception of time. While feverishly wondering how I can hasten my fortunes, I also question the very sense of the course of my pursuits. How far along the way is too far to make another career change? Closed doors and expired opportunities abound. But surely, there must be open lanes. My thoughts circle back to whether I’ve been missing something that I should’ve long known. Perhaps a lack of common sense, or perhaps a lack of jadedness, all of which remains to be seen.

Indeed, part of attempting to comprehend the liminal present is imagining how I will look back upon these times. Through such trials, no matter their duration, there remains an incorruptible assurance, even though it neither pays my bills nor releases me from indignities. Well aware of his life-sentence, albeit as an innocent prisoner of conscience, the ancient Boethius composed his immortal Consolations of Philosophy. In spite of his conditions, he insisted that God is the objective, transcending, enduring good, who does not give up on us, no matter the extremities our emotions can twist us into accepting. My readings in the old, familiar Consolations tend to begin in Book 4, in which Boethius has become well acquainted with the majestic Lady Philosophy, and their dialogue proceeds to address the importance of trusting faith. In this, he observes how even our unhappiness can be of use to humankind and to our understanding of divine grace. Revisiting these readings spoke to my musings of what is reliable in the fluid and abiding present: enduring words and the Spirit upholding them.

books and words

One night last week, following yet another exhausting day, I chose to read instead of write. Too much space in my journals had been given to enumerating frustrations. From my small desk, I turned to the shelves of old friends conveniently adjacent to my perch. Purposefully, my choices favored life-giving and thought-provoking words. Pascal, Aquinas, Merton, the Bible, Brother Roger of Taizé, and two small books called Great Companions. The latter title was drawn from Walt Whitman’s poetic beckoning to seek out the great companions and belong to them. The books’ contents comprise numerous “readings on the meaning and conduct of life from ancient and modern sources.” Published by the Beacon Press, on Boston’s Mount Vernon Street, Volume I was first printed in 1927, and Volume II in 1941. The books in themselves are great companions to me, both as destinations and as launches into further studies of the selections’ sources.

The Beacon Press, Boston.

Quite naturally, yet still a soothing surprise, I reached for the kindredship and consolation of words. When writing runs dry, or is cast adrift, it is a reminder to read more consistently. Replenishment is as productive as the coverage of distances. My gratitude for reading brought to mind that as the individual is an earthen vessel carrying the gift of God, so the books at my reach are rafts of composed words. The great companions in cherished readings are at once consolations and distractions. With that in mind, I decided to awake before dawn on my day off, and go to Boston. One of my favorite things to do at the Athenaeum library is to set a chair in the aisle of “Cutter 3's and 4's,” and seek out gems at random. Never a disappointment; always new pearls. Having opened windows from my closed thoughts, I can inhabit the ministrations imprinted carefully upon the pages before me.

From Cassiodorus, to Plato’s trinity of Spirit, Reason, and Memory, I proceeded to the classic sermons of Phillips Brooks. An illustrious Boston cleric of the 19th century, Brooks wrote of the human craving for Continuity, Variety, Influence, and Reality. All my readings combined to remind me of heavenward aspirations. These ideas and statements represent messengers of grandeur, expanding perception, and transcending the temporal. Leaving my perch in the Athenaeum library aisle, I walked across downtown to Copley Square, remembering the Phillips Brooks statue near Trinity Church. The broad piazza is flanked by the large church and the flagship Boston Public Library. Visiting the church also permits for a stop into the Great Reading Room which was filled with pensive souls. The readers, and reading in itself, reminded me of the innumerable great companions ever in my midst. A sense of wonder is indeed a sign that indicates one’s progress along life’s pilgrimage. In agreement, Phillips Brooks, in his On Promoting Spiritual Life (1893) adds:
“Wherever there is a wonder, we are sure that if we listen with our hearts we shall hear, out of the depth of that mystery, some richer teaching, some large revelation of God’s truths.”

"My service, my true will-dedication
ought to bring me out into the light; at least I will remember that.
I will not be content with darkness.
I will not let despair of positive belief settle down on me with its chilling power."

~ Phillips Brooks, "The Withheld Completions of Life"

Trinity Church, Boston.