Treating a French Devotional Book from 1669

Following the images below is a short paper that I wrote and presented to my Devotional Art, Theory, and Practice class at Georgia State University during the fall semester this year. Our final assignment was a "studio response" to the course, which focused on devotional art and objects from the Early Modern period (1300-1550 or so) in Western Europe. For my project I decided to combine my love of book arts and conservation by treating the oldest book I own and making a beautiful box to keep it in. I also wrote and bound a small pamphlet that tells the story of the book and this project. (You can read the text of that pamphlet at the end of this post).

Before Treatment:

Cleaning Dust:

Photomicrographs of "Dust":

Mending with Japanese Tissue and Methyl Cellulose:

After Treatment:

Conservation Treatment of

INSTITVTION DE LA FAMILLE DV SAINT ENFENT IESVS

            For my studio response to this course I decided to complete a conservation treatment on the oldest book I own: Institvtion de la Famille dv Saint Enfent Iesvs, a small devotional book used for meditation on the Holy Family, published in France in  1669. The treatments that I conducted include cleaning between each page with a brush, reattaching loose pages with paste and Japanese papers, detaching and re-adhering previously treated endsheets, and conditioning the leather on the covers. Following treatment, I constructed protective enclosures for the book, including a paperboard wrapper and a double-tray (or clam-shell) box. I also wrote, printed, and bound a small pamphlet book which fits inside the clam-shell box, detailing my interactions with this book. This project is intended to be an integration of the disciplines of art conservation, book arts, and art history, and seeks to present this personal devotional object in a similarly intimate format.

            I did not intend to perform a complete restoration of the book; such practice is not typical for conservators and can often result in damage to the research value of the item being treated. For example, full restoration of an item may require the removal or replacement of certain components which would then need to be replicated, diminishing the object’s authenticity. And as many art historians and conservators have noted, particularly Kathryn Rudy in her paper Dirty Books: Quantifying Patterns of Use in Medieval Manuscripts Using a Densitometer, dirty paper actually has research value.[1] Modern imaging techniques allow researchers to quantify grimy fingerprints into actual information about how these objects were used. While I do not have access to a densitometer and so could not conduct similar tests on my book, I was able to speculate as to which pages received the most use by examining the softness and thinness of the paper, differences in color, and the amount of dirt between the pages.

            I treated this book alongside other projects during an internship at the Georgia Archives of the Board of Regents in Morrow, Georgia while working under the instruction of book conservator Kim Norman. (The book itself is from my personal collection). While I did not attempt to remove any oil or smudges from the paper, I did clean out the gutters between each page which were full of dirt and other matter, much of which I suspect was actually small particles of leather from the cover which had made their way through the signatures of the book. I used a very soft Japanese brush, and on Kim Norman’s advice, I saved every last speck of dust. Then we looked at it under a microscope. We found everything ranging from seeds and other plant matter, to animal or human hair, and even an insect wing. Using a machine called an ultrasonic welder, I encapsulated all of this book “dust” between two sheets of Mylar which I then bound into my accompanying pamphlet.

            This book was originally intended for use in the veneration of the Holy Family, a practice which gained popularity as a cult in Western Christianity during the 17^th century when this book was published.[2] It contains prayers, litanies, devotional exercises, as well as meditations for the 25^th day of the month, honoring Christmas day year round. There are also special readings for the Mass, Holy Communion, and confession. The book was published in 1669 in Lyon, France, which was a major center of printing in Europe during this period.[3] Soeur Boilaud Hospitalière is the book’s apparent owner, as her name is signed inside the front cover. Clearly a nun, she must have worked in some capacity in a hospital.

            In all likelihood, this book may have had many owners over the years. Sister Boilaud may have even purchased the book secondhand herself. Unlike books of hours, with their hand-written text and painstakingly detailed illuminations all created with a wealthy patron in mind, printed volumes like these were much more commonplace items. However, this book remains a devotional object, and as such is likely to have been intimately precious to at least one person, despite its lack of personalization. This exchange and intermingling of public and personal spaces and objects is central to discussions of devotional art. In my treatment of this antique book, I hope to embody this relationship as my audience peeks into the private and public lives of Sister Boilaud as a devotee and of myself as an observer.

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[1] Kathryn M. Rudy, “Dirty Books: Quantifying Patterns of Use in Medieval Manuscripts Using a Densitometer,” Journal of Historians of Netherlandish Art. Volume 2. Issue 1-2 (2010). <http://www.jhna.org/index.php/past-issues/volume-2-issue-1-2/129-dirty-books> Accessed December 2, 2014.

[2] “Feast of the Holy Family,” Encyclopedia Britannica. <http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/269779/Feast-of-the-Holy-Family> Accessed December 2, 2014.

[3] “Lyon,” Encyclopedia Britannica. <http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/352917/Lyon> Accessed December 2, 2014.

Pamphlet Text

The pamphlet you are currently holding lives inside of a box with another book.

That book is inside of a “wrapper,” which is what book conservators call a paper covering with folds and flaps and satisfyingly rounded corners that fits around a book just right.

Wrappers help protect rare and delicate books from further damage, while boxes (like the one you found this pamphlet in) are for especially rare and delicate books. My book is neither especially rare nor delicate, but it is over three hundred years old, and so I made a wrapper and a box for it anyhow.

Let me tell you about my book.

Actually, first you should check out this stuff over here on your right. It used to be inside the book, but I cleaned it out with a very soft brush…and then I encapsulated it between sheets of Mylar. 

[encapsulated dust]

Can you find the bug’s wing?

I bought my book in Paris in 2010. Have you ever been to Paris? All along the Seine, which flows through the very center of the city, there are countless green metal boxes filled with books. These are owned by bouquinistes, who have been selling books on the banks of the Seine since the Middle Ages.

I spent hours looking for the oldest, most magical book I could find. I knew my book was mine right away, for three very important reasons:

1.     It was the perfect size and shape.

2.     It belonged to a lady, Soeur Boilaud Hospitalière, who had signed her name inside the cover.

3.     I could afford it.

My book is a little devotional volume venerating the Holy Family, a practice which first became popular in Europe during the 17^th century when the book was published.

Soeur Boilaud Hospitalière must have worked in some capacity at a hospital, possibly as a nurse. I imagine her reading through the prayers by candlelight while her patients slept, perhaps absentmindedly carving her initials into the front cover.

(Can you see the A? Was her name Antoinette? Agnes? Ambroise?)

You’ll see she dripped some wax on page 172, which reads:

MEDITATION

Pour le 25. de Decembre ∫ur le My∫tere de la Nai∫∫ance du Fils de Dieu dans l’E∫table.

(translation)

MEDITATION

For the 25^th of December on the Mystery of the Birth of the Son of God in the Stable.

After allowing it to rest on one of my many bookshelves for a few years after my return from Europe, I pulled out this little volume this year to perform a few basic conservation treatments.

I began by gently brushing the dust from between every page, the results of which you saw a few moments ago. Next I anchored several loose pages using Japanese tissue. Finally I reversed an existing treatment to the endsheets which had risked damaging the engraving on the facing title page and re-secured the endsheets with tissue mends.

I am not the first person to treat this book; possibly you can spot some older mends to the covers and the cracks in the spine. It was not my intention to “restore” the book to its original condition, although I do enjoy imagining how it once looked. (Did you notice that the fore edge is slightly red? It must have once been very vibrant.)

I hope that plenty of Soeur Boilaud’s fingerprints are left to mingle with my own, and yours.