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Summaries/Samenvattingen
Willem Mijnhardt - Reconsidering the impact of print
The advent of printing is generally believed to be the chief agent of modernisation and political and social emancipation. On the basis of alphabetisation figures, data from sales of printed material and reading habits in the Netherlands, this statement can be put into question. Even today less than half of the adult population should be classified as regular readers. We seriously need to re-examine the importance of the oral tradition.
Jessica Zeeman - Spirituele pelgrimage in de ziekenzaal van het Sint-Agnesklooster te Arnhem. Hs 303 van de universiteitsbibliotheek Radboud Universiteit Nijmegen
Hs 303 is a manuscript containing Middle Dutch spiritual texts that stems from the Arnhem St. Agnes Convent. The convent no longer exist, but the present Walloon church at Gatshuisstraat, once the convent's chapel, is a reminder of its existence. The manuscript was compiled by sister Alberta van Middachten around 1550. She was a nobleman's daughter: her father was Anthonis, lord of Middachten. She is the only scribe from St. Agnes Convent that is known by name, which is mentioned in the (later added) colophon at the reverse of fol. 1 in the manuscript. The colophon also mentions the instruction that the manuscript is to be used in the convent's hospital, and that it cannot leave the hospital without the consent of the head nurse.
Most of the manuscript's contents are two series of sermons in the order of the liturgical year. Hs 303 also contains an eternal calendar, ‘calengier’, the beginning of which is marked by two lines-high red lombards kl, although it deviates from the standard type in appearance and context. The ‘calengier’ is predominantly a saints' calendar, mentioning only feasts with a fixed date, presented as a running text. The texts preceding the calendar have a comparable layout and, like the calendar, have somewhat sloppily applied indulgence marks. Therefore, the calendar is not immediately recognisable as such. Alberta has copied the indulgence marks from a printed book by Robertus van Coelen, the Costelike scat der geesteliker rijckdoem, from 1518 or 1519. In a table in this work on indulgences, Robertus has indicated the places in Rome where indulgences can be obtained on a given day. The type of indulgence was indicated by means of different marks. In addition, Van Coelen made a table of the days at which and where processions were held in Rome and he gave a letter to all those seven churches, from A-G. Alberta copied these letters and symbols and combined Van Coelen's tables, but she went further than that: she filled the empty spaces in van Coelen's calendar with (local) saints, so that every day of the year becomes a feast day.
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To go to one of the churches in Rome was not an option for the sisters working in the hospital. In order to give them the opportunity to get an indulgence, Alberta added 365 reflections to the calendar. For this, she used the collection Jhesus collacien of c. 1480, which only survived in manuscript. It is a collection of visions of Christ, written down by a nun. In one of them, Christ asks the nuns to make a wreath of certain flowers each day, each month using different flowers. While making the wreath, the nuns are to reflect on the passion and death of Christ. Alberta copied these reflections into the calendar.
In combining the indulgence symbols and the station lists of Van Coelen with the reflections from the Jhesus collacien, the nuns make a spiritual pilgrimage, allowing them to gain the indulgences from the churches of Rome. With this combination, Alberta gave her fellow nuns a valuable routine for their spiritual life in the hospital. The daily indulgences gave them a hopeful perspective of eternal life.
Jan Bos - Aan dingen die niet en zijn zich zoo te vergapen als ofze waren Boekbladen op een trompe-l'oeil schilderij
The Kunstmuseum at Gotenburg houses a painting depicting a large number of whole and half book pages swept together. It is entitled ‘Bokblad’ (book leaves). The painting was made using gouache and ink on vellum; its measurements are 62.5 × 44.5 cm.
It is a remarkable painting. Its painter, Nicolaas de Wit, is not found in any reference work on Dutch art. There is hardly any other documentation on him. No other works by him are known, and this painting, too, has hardly been studied.
In painting, trompe l'oeil is a deceptively realistic painting technique that gives the viewer the impression of looking at real objects instead of a painting. The objects depicted are often an apparently random collection of papers and utensils. However, like in the related genre of still life, the various elements often have a symbolic value or another deeper meaning. That goes for the painting by Nicolaas de Wit as well. Not all the leaves are actually book pages. The prominent ‘title page’ bottom left of the centre is in fact a dedication of the painting to the Amsterdam burgomaster Lieve Geelvink. Another text appears to be a letter in which De Wit offers the painting to Geelvink. Lieve Geelvink was one of the most notable citizens of Amsterdam of his time. He was born on 16 May 1676 in a distinguished and wealthy family of regents. He served in several lucrative offices of the city and the admiralty. Between 1720 and his death in 1743 he was elected as burgomaster no less than seven times.
The so-called book title ‘Gedachten wegens myn eygen xxxste verjaardag’ (‘Thoughts on my own 30th birthday’), top left in the painting, refers to Nicolaas de Wit himself: he was baptised on 24 September 1710 in the Lutheran church of Amsterdam. However, almost nothing is known of his life.
Other leaves have actually been copied from existing books. Many of them can be related directly or indirectly to Geelvink and De Wit. They are, among others, Psalms and works by well-known seventeenth- and eighteenth-century authors such as Vondel, Cats, Camphuysen, and Willem Sluiter. Three themes can be discerned: the awareness of mortality, the exhortation to a virtuous life, and examples of wise government. Together, they can be seen as a sort of mirror for princes: a piece containing moral-political instructions for the powerful regent Lieve Geelvink.
Why did Nicolaas de Wit offer this painting to this burgomaster at this time? Part of the enormous production of paintings in the Dutch Republic was commissioned, but that does not seem to be the case here. There is no evidence for a personal relationship between De Wit and Geelvink. Lieve Geelvink is not known as a Maecenas or art collector.
The year 1740 was the coldest year of the entire eighteenth century. There were shortages and famine, especially among the poor. The painting does not, however, contain any indications that Nicolaas de Wit suffered from them and hoped to be paid for his art. No other paintings by De Wit are known. We do not know whether he made any for other
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dignitaries. In that case, they could be compared to the occasional verse used by all sorts of fawners to welcome newly elected burgomasters in the hope for money or favours, or to publishers' dedications in books used to honour both government bodies and private persons. Several books were dedicated to Geelvink. But if a book dedication did not yield anything, profit could still be made from selling the books. But if Lieve Geelvink did not accept this painting, De Wit was the only one who was deceived: he could not sell it to anyone else.
Rietje van Vliet - ‘Wer Socinianische Bücher sucht, findet sie bey ihm am ehesten’. Sebastiaan Petzold's patrons
The microhistory of the Amsterdam-based Sebastiaan Petzold († 1704) demonstrates that in the Early Modern Period booksellers without a network were hardly able to manage professionally in the Republic of Letters. They needed connections, certainly at the beginning of their career. Some could fall back on relatives, others turned to scholars, who could be of great service as a source of information or as knowledge brokers. Petzold relied especially on patronage from Socinianist circles. A native of Berlin, he had settled in Amsterdam in 1695, where he hoped to find a more tolerant environment for his socinianist views. Socinianism was one of the most persecuted religious currents in Europe, because its adherents rejected the doctrine of the Trinity which was essential to Catholics and Protestants alike. As such they also denied the divine status of Christ. Socinianism was accordingly regarded as a heresy and prohibited in numerous European countries.
Thanks to his liberal and especially Socinianist network, Petzold gained a foothold in Amsterdam as a translator and later as a publisher and bookseller. He found a number of patrons who offered him promising projects. The Socinian theologian Samuel Crellius (1660-1747), a man with many connections in England, saw to it that Petzold was able to publish three highly controversial Socinian works, including the notorious Platonisme devoilé (1700). Petzold was also introduced to some prominent English booksellers thanks to Crell, which provided him with access to the international market. As a result his list is relatively rich in translations from the English. Another patron was the Berlin court preacher Daniel Ernst Jablonski (1660-1741), who recommended Petzold to Leibniz. The latter engaged Petzold as the Amsterdam bookrunner for his private library, possibly also for the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel, where Leibniz had been appointed librarian. It may also have been Jablonski who got Petzold the post of librarian - in fact also of bookrunner - at the court of the Elector Frederick iii. In Amsterdam the literary society In Magnis Voluisse Sat Est commissioned Petzold to publish the complete works of Lucretius, an Epicurean work which was a favourite in anti-clerical circles but undoubtedly controversial among the orthodox clergy. In spite of the many opportunities he was offered by his patrons, Petzold eventually failed to make his mark. He was no success as a professional publisher and bookseller and his business instincts were not always on target either. In spite of all the support he was unable in the end to cope. His patrons turned away from him, which cost him his profitable post as librarian of the Elector. Instead of authors thronging at his door he was now besieged by creditors. His widow could only repay his debts with great difficulty.
Jeroen Bos & Lizet Kruyff - Between a silk book and a roasted goose: a bookhistorical and culinary exploration of the visit of stadtholder Willem V to the city of Amsterdam (1768)
In the first days of June 1768 the young stadtholder Willem v (1748-1806) and his newly wed wife Wilhelmina of Prussia (1751-1820) visited the city of Amsterdam. It was part of a series of costly visits of the young prince to various cities in the Dutch Republic. The stadtholder had already visited lesser cities and the Amsterdam mayors and aldermen heavily urged the stadtholder to honor the most important city of the Republic with his presence.
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As soon as the date was set, the city council commissioned city historian Jan Wagenaar (1709-1773) to record the visit and publish a honorable account of it. The eventual publication 't Verheugd Amsterdam [literally: Rejoiced Amsterdam], published by Amsterdam booksellers Yntema and Tieboel, became a selling success. The artists Simon Fokke (1712-1784) and Reinier Vinkeles (1741-1816) were allowed to attend several ceremonial and festive activities during the visit in order to depict them faithfully. The resulting series of engravings would likewise become a bestseller.
Because of this success, both the book and engravings are well-known paper mementos of the visit. In this article the authors want to emphasise the existence of other publications regarding the events. These rather unknown publications (eulogies, gazettes, poor quality illustrations) were more ephemeral in character. They were intended to celebrate the visit of the stadtholder and his court, and did not endure long after publication. Still, some have survived and are worth studying to complement the overly positive image of the visit as painted in the sanctioned works of Wagenaar, Fokke and Vinkeles. Unpublished sources, such as bills, diaries and secret proceedings, are used to offer small new insights about the events.
All publications speak of the smooth course of the visit. Naturally the safety was a huge concern for the city government. The city militia was instructed to safeguard the stadtholder, his wife and court during the visit, meaning that 6,305 men were called to arms. They kept the roads free of traffic when the royal carriages passed, held the people at bay during the inner-city trips to important institutions or individuals and supervised the crowds during these days. Apparently unrest of some form was anticipated. All authors recounting the events speak of the good manners of the Amsterdam public, high and low. Another proverbial talk of the town was the illumination of the city hall - which was temporarily renovated to accommodate the stadtholder - during May 31 1768. Around 6,000 glasses were filled with flammable liquids and in the evening represented a huge sun with blazing flames on the tympanum of the monumental building. It must have been a true spectacle.
Remarkably, the sources are silent about the culinary details of the visit. Wagenaar and others did not mention the menu or ingredients. We can only speculate about the meals that were cooked, served and consumed at the city hall and during the trips. From the engraving by Simon Fokke, depicting the grand banquet in the Schepenkamer, and publications about visits elsewhere in the Dutch Republic we have some idea of the different meals that the stadtholder, his wife, court and guests have enjoyed.
Finally, when in the last week of August 1768 the anticipated 't Verheugd Amsterdam was available for sale, an unforeseen event unfolded. Master carpenter Jan Smit took offense with the text. He was mentioned by Wagenaar as the executor of a wooden lodge that was specially constructed for the occasion inside the city theatre. Here the stadtholder was seated to enjoy several plays during the visit. According to Smit, who feared reputational damage, he was not only executor, but also the inventor of this lodge. A heated discussion in pamphlets followed between Smit and (allegedly) Wagenaar. Others, mostly anonymous, stepped in the discussion and over 10 different pamphlets about this silly quarrel are known today.
Rindert Jagersma - The Utrecht ‘knechtbus’, a fund for compositors and pressmen 1742-1792
In 1741 in Utrecht a ‘bussche, voor alle boek-drukkers en letter-setters knegts’ was established. This so called ‘knechtsbus’ was a fund for compositors and pressmen, which served as an insurance for these employees. This article describes how the ‘knechtsbus’ for Utrecht's print shops in the years 1742-1792 functioned. In general, a ‘knechtsbus’ is a mutual fund for employees working in a certain craft or trade with written rules and regulations to provide insurance in times of sickness, old age, death, and widowhood.
Central in this article are the annual reports of the ‘knechtsbus’, and the printed rules and regulations. These sources provide an overview of the foundation, the ideals of the founders, the formative years, and the decline of the ‘knechts- | |
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bus’. Analysing the annual reports provided insight in the names, lives, and careers of the members, who thus far remained mostly nameless employees of the printing shops of Utrecht in the second half of the eighteenth century.
Since employees were not allowed to join the guild of their masters, they had to start their own fund. A ‘knechtsbus’ was not a part of the guild, nor it shouldn't be confused with a chapel - in the sense of a staff association with larger print shops. With a little goodwill, we can recognise a ‘knechtsbus’ as a fund which provided support in case of sickness and accidents, and paid pension and funeral insurance, all in one. Sick pay (50 ‘stuivers’) was paid weekly to the employee himself. Funeral compensation (36 guilders) was paid for both the employee and his wife (or the widow left behind) after death, and was paid out to the next of kin. For people disabled due to their old age there was a monthly assurance (four guilders per month): a benefit that comes close to a pension.
Membership of the ‘knechtsbus’ was obligatory for all employees working in print shops in Utrecht. The rules were approved by the city council, and printed afterwards. This study discusses the printed editions of the rules, and their content: including the contributions and the corresponding fines. The employees had to pay their contribution every fortnight: married men paid six ‘stuivers’, and unmarried men four ‘stuivers’. This difference had to do with the funeral costs for their wives and the amount of support that a widow would receive after one died.
Every incoming and outgoing ‘stuiver’ was noted, and at the end of each year an annual report was presented. The annual reports of the ‘knechtsbus’ from 1742 to 1792 have all been preserved. The first years, the ‘knechtsbus’ obtained a stable positive balance, although some rules were added or tightened. Already in 1746, the first employee received his pension of 48 guilders. However, he lived longer than expected, and too many other people were on the brink to receive a pension. In the end, it turned out that the maintenance of the promised retirement pension was an unrealiseable goal.
De ‘knechtsbus’ was created as a support fund. The question is to what extent it had been possible to provide the intended safety net with in cases of illness, old age, and death. Analysis of the annual reports shows that most employees received little support from the fund in the event of illness, and as a pension. Of all 122 names mentioned in the annual accounts in the period 1742-1792, twenty persons received only one week of sickness pay during their career, sixteen employees two weeks, eleven for three weeks, and ten employees a total of four weeks. Although almost half of the members (48.3%) received during the course of their career support in some form, this was in most cases only for a short period. Most of the employees hardly made any use of the sick pay during their careers. A good number of employees died after a sickbed. Of the 38 members who were buried in the period 1742-1792, no less than 22 received sick pay in the year of death. Some had received sick pay for months, but most of the members died after a short illness: seven men after one week's illness, and eight men within a month.
Analyses show that in 1741 the ‘knechtsbus’ had 43 members. In the following years this number dropped somewhat, but eventually the number of members in 1792 was 42. This provides insight in the number of compositors and pressmen working in Utrecht in second half of the 18th century. For the vast majority of employees, savings may have been more advantageous. The bus as an insurance was a social system, meant to support colleagues in difficult times. Also, the gathering of all employees of Utrecht printing shops every two weeks gave the bus a strong social element.
Pierre Delsaerdt - The sealed chests of the Lady Adriana Tongerlo Abbey Library and the patrimonialisation of the book in the United Kingdom of the Netherlands
In 1827, the government of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands bought the remains of the once famous library of the abbey of Tongerlo, located in Belgium, some 50 kilometers east of Antwerp. The Premonstratensian abbey had been closed by the French revolutionary regime in 1796. Its library collection had been seized and transported to Antwerp in order to become part of the library of the departmental ‘école centrale’. However, before the French occupation (1794), the fathers
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had managed to hide substantial parts of the abbey library in a great diversity of places, for instance in the many farms Tongerlo owned, or in more distant parishes that depended on the abbey.
After the fall of the French regime, and when it became clear that king William i would never restore the old monasteries, the dispersed fathers decided to retrieve the hidden books and have them sold. That was risky, as the Dutch regime considered that it had inherited the ownership from its French predecessor, and had demonstrated this by seizing hidden books of another Premonstratensian abbey, Averbode, in 1818. Several anonymous auctions were held in Antwerp, during which important lots of manuscripts and 15th- and 16th-century books attracted famous book collectors. Another significant collection of early books and manuscripts was assembled in the De Merode-castle at Westerlo. An agent of the government succeeded in gaining the fathers' confidence and bought the integral collection for 8000 guilders. The manuscripts were sent to Brussels, the printed books were loaded on the ship Lady Adriana and shipped to The Hague, where they would enter the Royal Library or Koninklijke Bibliotheek.
The archival documents show that the government's intention was not only to enrich the Royal Library's collection, but also to continue the collaboration with the fathers so as to receive letters by which it would be able to reclaim other, more substantial goods that had once been owned by the abbey.
The article analyses the contents of the acquisition, studying a handwritten catalogue in which 4296 items were recorded some years after their arrival in The Hague, and which is still kept at the Dutch Koninklijke Bibliotheek. The collection consisted mainly of large-format Latin and French books printed in the Southern Low Countries and France in the 17th century. Its main focus was theology, next to canon law and church history - although the figures in the different tables are also proof of the collection's geographical, chronological, linguistic and thematic diversity. Furthermore, as the majority of the works is still present in The Hague, it is possible to gain an insight into Tongerlo's book culture. It appears to have been characterised by a huge respect for the printed text, with annotations being limited to provenance marks at the start of the volumes or to ex-donos by the successive abbots.
The article concludes by pointing towards several elements in the narrative which illustrate that when leaving their original setting and being shipped to The Hague, the books lost their original functions. Both the Dutch authorities and the librarian at The Hague considered the earliest books, the incunabula and post-incunabula and one very rare block book, to be the main parts of the collection. Their contents were not that interesting, but their age, relating them to the earliest years of printing, made them a source of admiration and pride. When they arrived at The Hague, the remains of Tongerlo Abbey Library had lost their original functions and had become heritage objects. Their shipping on the Lady Adriana, then, is to be understood as an allegory of what French historians have called ‘la patrimonialisation’.
Kim de Groot - Towards a collected past. The preservation of the national written heritage in nineteenth-century Belgium
This article discusses the importance of book collectors for the preservation of cultural heritage and their role in the emergence of public libraries in nineteenth-century Belgium. The Belgian Revolution (1830) stimulated a search for manuscripts and books that embodied the nation's cultural identity. Books representing the history of literature and science were considered patrimonial heritage and collected by public institutions and individuals for that specific reason. Because of their historical importance, the government decided to centralise and conserve these books in the Royal Library of Belgium, founded in 1837. For this endeavour, it relied on private collectors, who had been gathering books for years and had obtained insight in the antiquarian book trade.
The literature on the emergence of national libraries is extensive, but less attention has been paid to the role of the private collector. The article contributes to a neglected part of historiography, namely the relationship between the government and collectors, where it concerns the preservation of books as national heritage for the State. It describes the way
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individuals handled their book collections and how they responded to the growing demand to make their collections accessible to the public. The intent of this article is to conduct an in-depth study, focusing on the growth and dispersion of the collections of two bibliophiles: Contant Philippe Serrure and Engelbert August, the eighth duke of Arenberg. In 1859, Serrure decided to sell some of his books and manuscripts. Louis Alvin and Charles Ruelens, the curators of the Royal Library, were interested in purchasing these manuscripts, but instead, Serrure sold a large part of his collection to the Duke of Arenberg.
The expanding collection of the Royal Library is commonly associated with a transition from private to public book ownership. Government investment increased and collectors saw it as their duty to preserve books for the State. This ensured that more and more books became publicly available through the establishment of library institutions rather than being kept out of the public's reach.
However, the article reveals that not every collector wanted to make his life work accessible to the public and that the relationship between private collectors and public institutions was not always cooperative. Due to the increasing number of bibliophile collections and collectors, the Royal Library struggled to compete with wealthy, individual bibliophiles. Their limited budget made it more difficult to pursue an exhaustive collection of written heritage. Referring to a correspondence between Constant Philippe Serrure and Charles de Brou, the librarian of Engelbert August of Arenberg, this contribution shows that the transition from private to public literary collections proceeded gradually. Both collectors dedicated their lives to assembling books concerning the history of the Netherlands, but did it in their own stubborn ways.
Bart Verheijen - Cornelis van der Aa and the orangist ideals in the Batavian-Napoleonic period, 1801-1809
Cornelis Van der Aa (1749-1815) was a writer, publisher and a passionate orangist. He lived during the turbulent period of the Batavian Revolution and the Napoleonic years. Despite of rigid censorship laws and state opposition Van der Aa would hold on to his orangist sympathies. Van der Aa published three vast historical works in which he attacked the revolutionaries and their democratic experiment, and in which he underlined the historical bound between the Netherlands and the House of Orange. His publications contributed to the public debate in the years 1801-1809. A study of his works and the circulation, therefore gives us an insight in the popularity of the political orangist ideal.
During the years 1801-1806 - which has not yet received too much attention from historians - the political landscape was divided into three parties: republicans, orangists and moderates. As republicans and orangists debated about the new direction of the Republic, the moderate party dominated the political arena. In his efforts to control the Dutch Republic, Napoleon appointed the moderate Rutger Jan Schimmelpenninck as the new head of state in 1805. The orangist opposed the moderate Staatsbewind as well as Schimmelpenninck. They hoped for the return of the Stadtholder, William v, who was living in exile. In his most popular work - we know at least 1300 copies were sold - Van der Aa praised the House of Orange and attacked Schimmelpenninck and the revolutionaries who destroyed the country. However, the situation changed rapidly. Napoleon's power grew and in 1806 William v died. Many orangist placed their trust in Napoleon who appointed his brother Louis Napoleon as monarch in 1806. The party quarrels from the years 1801 to 1806 lost their significance and the focus shifted towards debates about maintaining a certain degree of independence. However the orangist ideals did not lose all their relevance. The ‘reintroduction’ of the hereditariness of the crown was the most important political reform of the Bonaparte's. The revolution was over.
A closer study of the work of Van der Aa and its circulation, complemented with the intelligence of the informants of the Napoleonic regimes, helps us to better understand (the different currents of) orangism in the years 1801-1810. During those years we can distinguish three varieties of orangism. The first variant being an ‘antiquarian orangism’ in which the House of Orange was cultivated as being something of a distant past. It held no political implications. We can
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also distinguish a political ‘active orangism’, which lost its significance after 1806. It however first remerged in 1809, and particularly after 1812 when Napoleons power was decreasing. This orangism used older orangist discourses combined with a new ideal of a new independent nation state. The third type of orangism was articulated by Van der Aa. He combined his historical analysis with the condemnation of the revolution and its protagonists. He aimed to disqualify the revolutionaries and Schimmelpenninck as lunatics and political incompetents. Never ever should anyone place power in their hands again. Only a government that rested on hereditary power could restore the former glory of the fatherland.
Jan Gielkens - From Purgatory to Hell: How a Literary Novel became Pulp Fiction
Dutch writer Marie-Louise Doudart de la Grée (1907-1981) gained some fame with a novel on child abuse in a catholic convent (Zondaressen [Sinners]) in 1938, followed by two books in 1946: A lesbian novel called Vae solis and Vagevuur (Purgatory), a novel situated in a German concentration camp. Unlike Vae solis, Vagevuur was not written on the basis of a personal experience, but after talks with victims. The novel had little success, even her lover at the time, writer Anna Blaman, considered the book to be badly written.
Towards the end of her not very successful career as a writer, in the mid-sixties, Vagevuur was reprinted, but in a different setting. The nineteen-sixties and seventies were, in the Netherlands and Flanders, the hay-day of ‘realistic’ or more or less pornographic novels; part of these novels were situated in violent settings: organised crime, army, prostitution etc., and, also, concentration camps. Vagevuur appeared in a series of paperbacks on the moderate side of this genre.
My article sketches a short history of the genre of concentration camp novels, and investigates, with the help of the preserved papers of Doudart de la Grée, how Vagevuur turned from a literary novel into a concentration camp novel. At first, the author did not approve of the reprint, but she gave in after some changes were made, not to the text of her novel but to the appearance of the book. Vagevuur went from highbrow to lowbrow without a single change to the text. There is no fluid text (John Bryant) involved, but a fluid context.
Rickey Tax - The Catharijne Press: the Netherlands' smallest publisher
With the acquisition of the so-called Bibliotheca Thürkôwiana Minor in 2012, Museum Meermanno als received the archive of the Catharijne Press. This publishing house of miniature books, owned by Guus and Luce Thürkôw, was initially based in Utrecht, then in Zuilichem and eventually in 's-Hertogenbosch. The books of the Catharijne Press are among the best edition published in miniature, not just in the Netherlands, but internationally. Twice, an edition of the press was awarded a prize by the Miniature Book Society: The House of Judgment and The History of Reynard the Fox. The archive offers the possibility to follow how the two-man publishing house succeeded in producing some twenty miniature books of high quality between 1984 and 2001.
Not only in their choice for English-language publications, but in their choice of titles, the Catharijne Press has foreign, especially American, customers in mind. Within the budget, the greatest care is given to the books. Especially in the early years, the Thürkôws aimed at ever higher standards, up to four colour printing on vellum. Even the printers of Joh. Enschede recoiled from that task. Although preference was given to relief printing and original artwork, concessions had to made with regard to the printing techniques used, in order to keep the editions within the budget. Savings were also made by home binding and finishing of the books. To make sure that the editions are profitable, a small set of luxury copies is made next to the standard edition. Usually, the luxury copies are twice as expensive as the standard edition, thus enlarging the profit of the edition. The publishers' attempts at producing books in other formats are less fruitful.
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The idea to republish a series of older bibliographies of miniature books in facsimile remains limited to one volume. The plan for editions in doll's house format is not worked out. The last two Catharijne Press editions appear in 's-Hertogenbosch. Eventually the publishing activities would yield to a new ambitious project: the Bibliotheca Thürkôwiana Minor, a spectacular miniature library.
Alex Alsemgeest - Schrödinger's cat in the library: materiality, digital representation and national bibliography
Digitisation has called attention to the enormous material diversity in which the most common books have been published. Editions of simple school books and popular literature from the nineteenth and twentieth century that were not known to exist in different states, can now be found online in all sorts of variations. There are numerous examples of original bindings with different designs and colorations, editions that were reissued and rebound by a later bookseller, and other material divergences that only become clear now that we see them on screen. Naturally, these material aspects of the book can tell us much about print and publication history, as well as the social-cultural context wherein a book originates.
It is however problematic that there are hardly any reliable analytical-bibliographical data available that reflects this material variety. Practices and traditions in cataloguing, digitisation and online presentation have long ignored materiality as an issue. Bindings and dust-jackets are up until today rarely part of a bibliographical description, even if they contain critical information on the edition, date of publication or other elements necessary for the identification of a book. Moreover, defects and diversions of the ‘ideal copy’, such as missing gatherings or added library bindings, are not justified in the metadata of common books. For most books that are not part of special collections, it is therefore inconclusive what the relation between the bibliographical data and the copy on screen is. There is, in other words, an ontological breach between the physical books and their digital representations.
In this article, I argue that analytical bibliographical description is a principal condition for the proper identification of all editions from the late 19th and early 20th century. Omitting this step will leave us with concise descriptions of texts rather than books. I give a number of examples from a Dutch perspective that illustrate how misleading, or at least confusing, the identification of books can be when you try to compare the bibliographical description of a certain edition with its representation online. Books may have been reissued by a later publisher and bare traces of this process, for example a completely new binding or a slip-cancel pasted over the old imprint, but how is this reflected in the data? If material evidence is not covered at all, we have a profound epistemological problem of truth. Thus it is justified to raise questions when it comes to statistical analyses and digital humanities research based on incomplete, unverified and to some extant misleading bibliographical data.
There is no easy solution to the problem, first and foremost because there is no comprehensive overview of the entire Dutch book production. There is in other words no benchmark. A national bibliography and scholarly book historical instrument under editorial supervision - such as the Short-Title Catalogue, Netherlands provides for the period until 1800 - would be a most desirable solution. The practical issues connected to the retrospective description of tens of thousands of books, however, make this an unlikely solution. A feasible alternative would be to use the old pro forma national bibliography on paper, known as Brinkman's cumulatieve catalogus van boeken [Brinkman's cumulative catalogue of books], and transform it into a list of structured data online. This is, of course, easier said than done and only a first step towards a national digital library that the Koninklijke Bibliotheek, National Library of the Netherlands envisions. However, as long as we fail to take the theoretical issues of material culture and analytical bibliography in account, there is little chance that the digital representations of books will be more than a collection of texts.
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