Category Archives: Discoveries and Rediscoveries

A Marriage Recycled

Discovered and re-discovered: using newly digitised items to find hidden stories in Greek papyri

from Peter Toth, Curator of Greek Collections, Bodleian Libraries

The Bodleian’s two-year project We Are Our History has created a unique opportunity for curators to explore the richness of our collections and to rediscover items that preserve the stories of underrepresented communities, groups, and individuals. The Library’s collection of Greek papyri, spanning almost a thousand years of Egypt’s history, has proved particularly fertile ground for this work. Our previous blog post introduced documents that illustrate the lives of grave-diggers in the Western Oasis of the Libyan desert. Today, we turn to a single object: a striking example of how an everyday document, once discarded as waste, was recycled—and ultimately preserved a unique historical source.

A hypothetical couple from 2^nd-century Egypt. Left: A mummy portrait of a woman (circa 150 CE). In the Louvre Museum’s collection (Accession number: N 2733 3) from Wikimedia Commons . Right: A mummy portrait of a young man (circa 80 CE) in the Manchester Museum from Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

The item, now preserved as MS Gr. Class. a. 9 (P), is a long strip of papyrus inscribed on its recto, along the fibres of the sheet, with exceptionally long lines of Greek text. The document is precisely dated to the 11th year of Emperor Hadrian, 19 April 127 CE. Written in a professional scribal hand, it records a marriage contract between the father of a young woman named Thais and her future husband Sarapion, setting out the conditions of their union.

Marriage contract from 127 AD on the recto of Bodleian Ms. Gr. Class. a. 9 (P)

The contract itself is fairly typical of its kind. In a style that may strike modern readers as rather formal—even dry—for such a joyful occasion, it notes that the agreement was concluded “in one of the streets of the city of Oxyrhynchus”, in Middle Egypt, and written by the scribe Diogenes. It carefully lists the possessions brought into the marriage, offering a glimpse into Thais’ dowry and personal belongings: “a brooch, a gold necklace set with three green stones, two dresses, and two girdles, one red and the other rose-coloured”. The contract also anticipates less happy possibilities, including provisions for divorce—ensuring that each party retrieves their property—and arrangements governing inheritance in the event of death, with the stated aim of securing a blameless and harmonious marriage.

Portrait of a Woman with jewelry from ca. 140 AD found in the Fayum Oasis, Antikensammlung Berlin Inv. 31161.7, from Wikimedia Commons

This copy of the contract was probably submitted to the local archives for registration shortly after its execution. At some later point, however, it was deemed no longer necessary and reused as writing material. On its reverse, a second set of texts was added. We do not know exactly why the document was discarded, but it appears that a clerk named Apollonios repurposed it to write a memorandum addressed to his colleague, Horion. In doing so, he preserved a rare record of administrative practice.

The beginning of Apollonios’s memorandum to Horion from the back of Bodleian Ms. Gr. class. a. 9 (P).

Apollonios’ note contains copies of two official proclamations issued by the prefect of Egypt concerning the registration and storage of legal documents in Alexandria. Around March 127 CE—close in date to the marriage contract—the authorities became aware of irregularities or tampering in archival practices and introduced stricter controls. In addition to the existing central archive, known as the Nanaion in Alexandria, a second repository, the Library of Hadrian, was established. The decree required that all contracts drawn up in Egypt be registered locally, processed in a central administrative office (the so-called Catalogue, katalogeion). There the documents were to be organised into composite and indexed rolls, their contents were carefully abstracted in two copies to be submitted not only to the Central Archives of the Nanaion but also to the newly established Library of Hadrian to ensure accuracy and prevent alteration.

Artistic reconstruction of the Library of Alexandria from the computer game, Assassin’s Creed: Original from Wikimedia Commons

The regulations also imposed strict limits on access. The custodians of the Central Archives were strictly forbidden to lend or even display documents without explicit authorisation by the director of the Library of Alexandria. In order to secure immediate and careful implementation of the new rules, a second proclamation was issued only a few months later threating all librarians and archivists “who may dare to violate the new rules, whether from disobedience or any illicit reason,” with severe punishment.

The threat to the “disobedient librarians” from the edict of the governor issued in August 127AD from the back of Bodleian Ms. Gr. class. a. 9 (P).

It may well have been fear of this severe punishment that prompted Apollonios to copy the decrees for his colleague Horion. By writing them on the back of an obsolete marriage contract, he reused available material in a practical and economical way. At the same time, his act of recycling has preserved a unique witness to the administrative reforms governing the central archives of second-century Alexandria—an unintended but invaluable survival.

Living on the margins: gravedigger families in Bodleian papyri from 1,800 years ago

Discovered and re-discovered: using newly digitised items to find hidden stories—in Greek papyri

from Peter Toth, Curator of Greek Collections, Bodleian Libraries

The Bodleian’s two-year project, We Are Our History, has provided an excellent opportunity to explore diverse and rich collections through a new lens: highlighting the voices of underrepresented communities, groups, and individuals.

The Library’s extensive collection of Greek papyri offers particularly fertile ground for this work, enabling users of Digital Bodleian to rediscover people from the distant past whose voices are uniquely preserved, yet have often remained hidden within ancient documents or confined to specialist scholarly publications.

Panel from the side of a painted coﬀin. Thebes, Roman period (c. 50– 150 CE). Nicholson Collection, Chau Chak Wing Museum, NMR.344

As part of the We Are Our History project, the curatorial team identified and digitised fifteen unique papyrus fragments that represent women, children, slaves, and other marginalised communities in the ancient world whose lives are often overshadowed by more prominent historical figures. This series of blogposts about Greek papyri presents some of these groups and individuals through the documents that preserve their stories.

The first group we turn to is an unusual one: the gravediggers of the Great Oasis in Egypt. Their documents, dating back some 1,800 years, have survived on papyrus fragments, many of which are now held in the Bodleian’s collections.

Position of the Kharga Oasis from Google Maps

The Great Oasis, also known as the Kharga Oasis, was the furthest habitable region of Egypt’s Western Desert and an important centre of caravan routes in antiquity. It contained several small but thriving settlements, including Hibis, the capital, and the nearby village of Kysis. Around 1890, a group of papyrus fragments was excavated in this region, possibly as a single find, and quickly dispersed among collectors in Western Europe. Among the earliest buyers were the Oxford-based papyrologists Bernard Grenfell and Arthur Hunt. Their collections were later acquired by the British Library, the Bodleian Library, and the Egypt Exploration Society in Oxford.

The “gravediggers”

The papyri — around 48 in total — appear to derive from a single family, a dynasty of gravediggers whose documents record aspects of their everyday lives over roughly 80 years (c. 237–314 AD). This was a family profession, in which men and women seem to have participated almost equally. Their work extended far beyond simply digging graves, as the Greek term nekrotaphos suggests. They were involved in a range of funerary activities, including mummification, embalming, and aspects of burial rituals. For this reason, they are often described in modern literature as the “undertakers” of the Great Oasis.

The job title “gravedigger” (νεκροτάφος) from a sales contract dated 28 June 244, from the collection of the Egypt Exploration Society, 89B/6(a)

Other terms used to describe them reflect their marginalised social status. They are sometimes called exopylites (“those outside the gates”) or allophyloi (“foreigners” or “outsiders”), perhaps referring to their association with cemeteries outside inhabited areas, as well as their resulting separation from ordinary civic life after prolonged work in such spaces.

The gravediggers depicted as “foreigners,” from a petition dated 30 June 310AD, in the collection of the Egypt Exploration Society, 89A/106

Although they appear to have been illiterate — their documents are consistently written and signed by others on their behalf — they were nevertheless active participants in a wide range of legal and economic affairs, including purchases, inheritance, and other forms of employment.

A gravedigger nurse

One of the nekrotaphoi documents in the Bodleian collection (MS. Gr. Class. C. 282 (P)) preserves part of a contract from around 308 AD. It records an agreement between a female “undertaker” named Thermuthis and a family who hired her as a wet nurse for a newly adopted foundling — a child described as having been “picked up from the dung heap.”

Fragment of a wet nurse contract with Thermuthis, dated 4 November 304AD, Bodleian Library, Ms. Gr. Class. c. 282 (P) b.

Wet-nursing was a well-established and relatively well-paid occupation for young mothers, subject to detailed legal regulation. This contract, now digitised, specifies a nine-month term of employment, with a fixed payment of two talents and full provisions provided to the nurse. It offers a vivid glimpse into the fate of abandoned children — who might be taken in and raised within new households, often as slaves — as well as the economic opportunities available to young mothers within this gravedigger family.

A mandate

Another fragment preserves a mandate from around 300 AD, issued by a woman named Aurelia, also a member of the gravedigger family. In it, she appoints a relative, Aurelios — himself a gravedigger — to represent her in a legal matter in the city. Unfortunately, the document is badly damaged, and the nature of the case remains unknown but we see a woman grave-digger actively engaged in public affairs outside her profession.

A receipt for the dead

A third fragment illustrates the family’s core occupation. It records the formal receipt of the body of a man named Heron, delivered to the gravediggers sealed and received in the same condition. Although the text is fragmentary, it suggests that issuing such receipts formed part of the administrative routines of their work.

Fragment of a document recording receipt of the dead body of Heron, issued in July 311, Bodleian Library, Ms. Gr. Class. c. 272 (P).

Together, these documents offer a rare and intimate view of a marginalised professional group whose lives, preserved on papyrus for nearly two millennia, can now be rediscovered through the Bodleian’s collections.

Seventeenth-century botanical engravings flower again

A detail of the plate for Section 12, Tab. 11 of Robert Morison’s herbal, after cleaning.

In 1996, 291 copper plates, engraved with images of botanical specimens, were re-discovered (according to a later account) ‘in use as counterweights to a lift in the Radcliffe Science Library’,^[1] one of the Bodleian Libraries of the University of Oxford.

They had been engraved by leading engravers of the time for two volumes of Robert Morison’s herbal, Plantarum historiae universalis Oxoniensis, published in 1680 and 1699. They had been wrapped in newspaper in the 1950s and stacked together but were found to be in very good condition. Twenty plates were expertly cleaned by the Conservation and Heritage Science team at the Bodleian Library, and re-housed in acid-free tissue with foam surrounds.

When The Old School Press proposed to print from these cleaned plates, the opportunity was taken to print these exceptional survivors once more on the rolling (or etching) press; twelve of the twenty were chosen as examples.

At top, the plate of Section 8, Tab. 13 of Morison’s herbal. Below, the printed plate in a copy of Morison’s published work in the Bodleian (Wood 660o) on the left, and a proof taken from the same copper plate by Jim Nottingham in 2024.

The Old School Press printed from the twelve chosen plates for a limited edition book. To limit any possible degradation of the plates, just forty prints were allowed to be taken from each, and the work of printing them was entrusted to Master Printer Jim Nottingham. To accompany the prints, Professor Stephen Harris, Druce Curator of the Oxford University Herbaria, prepared descriptions of the subject matter of each of the plates; Cambridge historian Scott Mandelbrote provided an introduction to Morison’s herbal and its history; and Jim Nottingham described the plates and the process for printing from them. The book, Plates for a Herbal, was published in May 2025.

Following the cleaning of twenty plates, the Bodleian Library initiated a project to examine in detail portions of both cleaned and uncleaned plates. During 2019 these were scanned in Optical 3D profilometry (O3D) in an Alicona machine at the Department of Engineering Science, at the University of Oxford. (See the earlier blogpost: https://blogs.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/theconveyor/copper-plates-in-the-bodleian-libraries/ )

After printing of only a few pulls from a few of the plates in 2024, the same portion of one cleaned plate was measured again using O3D. The results showed that this method requires much refinement before it is able to provide conclusive measurements of the wear on the copper plates. The initial profilometry had been able to show the complete contours of the plate surface, including the canyon created by the engraved lines, but the re-scanning following printing was unable to follow the contours into the depth of the lines due to wet ink trapped below the surface of the plate; at the bottom of the lines the Alicona machine was not able to take an accurate measurement due to the reflectivity of the new ink. Considering that the abrasion to plates during cleaning is one of the sources of wear, it was decided to forego further cleaning for the purposes of measurement. On inspection the plates did not appear to have suffered damage in undergoing the process for which, after all, they had originally been made.

The imaging of copper plates contributed to the results of a project begun at the Bodleian in 2021, a collaboration with the Factum Foundation, to make high-resolution images of low-relief surfaces. The ARCHiOx project has yielded further discoveries, the technological equivalents of finding historical printing surfaces in a lift shaft. (See the earlier blogpost: https://blogs.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/theconveyor/archiox-research-and-development-in-imaging/ )

The entire collection of the surviving plates for Morison’s herbal has now been returned to the Sherardian Library of Plant Taxonomy at the University of Oxford.

To watch Jim Nottingham printing from one of the plates visit https://youtu.be/1vfIE5i_Lv0.

To learn more about the published book visit www.theoldschoolpress.com/bookpages/pfah.htm

[1] Anne Hancock, ‘Robert Morison, the first Professor of Botany at Oxford’, Oxford Plant Systematics, 13 (2006), 14-15.

From Jean le Bon to Good Duke Humfrey: a new manuscript witness toAnglo-French cultural exchange

A day symposium on Friday 21 March 2025 in the Sir Victor Blank Lecture Theatre, Weston Library

Registration is free:
https://visit.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/event/mar25/from-jean-le-bon-to-good-duke-humfrey

11 am-12.30pm: Origins

Clive Sneddon (St Andrews), Translating the Bible into medieval French

Emily Guerry (Oxford), The Cholet Master and manuscript illumination in Paris at the end of the 13th century

2.00-3.15pm: From France to England

Laure Rioust (Bibliothèque nationale de France), Biblical manuscripts in the libraries of Kings John II the Good and Charles V the Wise: heritage and dispersal

Laure Miolo (Oxford) and Jean-Patrice Boudet (Université d’Orléans), The circulation and spoliation of scientific manuscripts between France and England in the Hundred Years’ War

3.45-5.00pm: The manuscript in England

David Rundle (Kent), The Lancastrian moment: the manuscript’s English owners

Daniel Wakelin (Oxford), Conclusion and avenues for further research

Reception and launch of the digital facsimile of MS. Duke Humfrey c. 1

Archival Silences and Indo-German Entanglements – Ways of Uncovering Hidden Voices

A guest blogpost from Paula Schnabel and Jannes Thode as part of the research exchange between the Bodleian Libraries and the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin

What is archival silence? Since the so-called “archival turn”, archives have become a subject of study on their own terms. While they had been seen as the ultimate bearers and providers of truth until recently, they now face increasing critical attention. The work of Foucault (1969) and Derrida (1995) drew more attention to the connection between archives and structures of knowledge and power. Archives are not simply the innocent collection of material – usually for administrative purposes – but are actively producing that material as documents and sources for historical events (Mbembe 2002, 20). Which material is regarded as preservable is connected to historical power. In this context, the concept of archival silence has gained new currency.

Michel-Rolph Trouillot, writing about the Haitian Revolution of 1791, was one of the first to theorise archival silence. In his Silencing the Past (1995), he claims that “history reveals itself only in the production of specific narratives” (Trouillot 1995, 25). Silences particularly occur in the making of narratives, but Trouillot distinguished three other moments: the moment of fact creation (the making of sources), the moment of fact assembly (the making of archives), and the moment of respective significance (the making of history) (Trouillot 1995, 26). Archival silences are thus predominantly the omissions and blurrings in the making of sources and their assembly through archival institutions, but also the gaps which (inevitably) happen in creating narratives. Since Trouillot, the issue of archival silence has been picked up by archivists (for instance Moss & Thomas 2021) and by artistic practice as well.

Post-structural and post-modernist critiques of the archive highlight the importance of individual interpretation and the fluidity of texts (Lane & Hill 2011, 8). Archives and the silences which occur in them are therefore not static and can be challenged and refigured through new archival sources, different narratives and interpretations. In this sense, silences are created, maintained and reproduced. Moreover, the new scholarship challenges the notion of the archivist as a “passive, invisible, disinterested, neutral” persona and portrays him/her instead as an active participant in the construction of the archive (ibid., 4). While the Jenkinsonian ideal of an archivist as passive and neutral remains dominant (particularly in continental Europe) and archivists themselves remain reluctant to acknowledge their active participation in the construction of the archive, new initiatives – particularly in the field of post-colonial Vergangenheitsbewältigung (the coming-to-terms with one’s own past) –have begun to transform traditional images of archivists (in the widest sense). IN_CONTEXT at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin and We are our history at the Bodleian Library in Oxford are two such examples which rethink their own archival material and its digital presentation.

In their transnational cooperation and exchange these two initiatives challenge an often-overlooked aspect of historical research. In order to confront archival silences, it is crucial to become aware of our modes of fact assembly in different but connected archival institutions and how their structural assemblage form our historical narratives. Archival institutions are “centre[s] of interpretation” (Osborne 1999, 52) and thus possess their own strategies of acquisition, deposition and preservation. To bring different archival institutions into dialogue enables researchers, on the one hand, to expand their views on different collections and arrive at new insights. On the other hand, to reflect on power relations between archival institutions demonstrates how these institutions contribute unevenly to our historical narratives. For instance, archival material held in the India Office records of the British Library mirrors only the perspective of the British Indian government and its colonial relationship with India. As this relationship has a century-long history, archival material relating to India and held in Britain is by far the most condensed. If a historian is interested in British India, these are the main and dominant sources. However, different actors participated in colonialism in India (Arnold 2015). German-speaking actors for instance were collaborators in conquering India during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, as the German nation-state came into existence and began a colonial project of its own, it became increasingly hostile to the British Empire and supported anti-colonialism in India (to a certain degree).

While German political interest into the Indian subcontinent fluctuated over the course of time and peaking in the 1914-18 period, German-speaking scientists had already assumed important functions in the eighteenth-century conquer of the Indian subcontinent. Nathaniel Wallich (1786-1854) for instance, forged a wide-ranging network of botanists and natural scientists from Calcutta over Cape Town, to London and the German-speaking lands. The case of Wallich is crucial as it demonstrates how scattered archival material of German-speaking actors on the Indian subcontinent often is. As he was employed by the East India Company and later the superintendent of the Botanical Garden in Calcutta, he left much of his extensive correspondence there. Unfortunately, the letters are in a poor condition, which makes it necessary to turn to other relevant holdings. Besides the material held in the India Office and various scientific institutions in the United Kingdom, among them the Botanical Gardens in Kew, his correspondence partners’ legacies become particularly worthwhile to consult. Adelbert von Chamisso (1781-1838), a German Botanist, was one such correspondence partner, whose legacy is held in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin and can be accessed online via Kalliope.

As can be seen by this example, the contribution of material relating to German participation in European colonialism, which is held in (German) archives and libraries, to dominant British narrtives about British India remains difficult for two reasons. First, German archives are not speaking directly about endeavours of German-speaking actors in overseas territories, which were not formally possessed by the German empire, thus being silent and difficult to access. It took a long time to uncover the network of botanists in different German archives. Second, even if we find the sources their impact on the dominant narrative is still influenced by the uneven power structure of different archival institutions. It is therefore essential to facilitate more cross-border reaching initiatives such as the cooperation of IN_CONTEXT and We are our History, and or our own project of MIDA (Modern India in German Archives). As a DFG-funded long-term project, we collect data from different archival institutions in a single database to help researchers finding material about India and Indo-German relations. With this database we attempt to challenge the dominant British narrative about colonial India and enable a new and more nuanced narrative about India’s colonial past and the myriads of influences between India and Germany.

German archives enable historians of modern India to discover fissures and disruptions of the dominant British colonial discourse and unearth marginalised voices. As Germans and Britons were competitors in the colonial game, marginalised actors were able to actively navigate between them and exert agency. Indian anti-colonial nationalists, for instance, were observed and partially prosecuted by British authorities, while they were supported by the German Foreign Office during the Great War and even later, in the Second World War. The freedom fighters were able to carve out of that cooperation what they needed for their struggle – funds for instance. This does not mean that German archives do not reflect a colonial view. Indeed, many German records are equally shaped by racist and supremacist views on the colonial “other”. After all, colonialism was a truly European project. Still, German archives offer numerous possibilities for new research on the colonial history of modern India and beyond.

Finally, silences are inherent in historical narratives. By highlighting one event another one is silenced. Silence per se is perhaps unavoidable but our choice which voices should be heard and how they are presented should be guided by ethical considerations. Instead of simply reproducing the voices of dominant actors, we should critically assess them and make other voices of competing dominant actors or marginalised subjects heard to disrupt and fissure the dominant narrative. Lastly, a remark of caution. Our objective should not just be the accumulation of archival material in different archival institutions, especially since this is not possible for all researchers. Moreover, some archives might never be accessible for Western researchers. Communities create their own archives to remember and tell the stories of their communities. They are important safe spaces to process their experiences and enable a way of healing. Especially in the context of colonial relationships, the attempt to access these community archives and publish research about them can create a new form of colonial exploitation.

Further reading:

Arnold, D., “Gobalization and Contingent Colonialism: Towards a transnational history of ‘British’ India,” in: Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 16 (2), 2015

Foucault, M., L’archéologie du savoir (Paris 1969)

Derrida, J., Prenowitz, E., “Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression,” in: Diacritics 25 (2), 1995, pp. 9–63

Lane, V., Hill, J., “Defining archives. Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going? Situating the archive and the archivists,” in: Hill, J. (ed.), The Future of Archives and Recordkeeping. A Reader (London 2011)

Mbembe, A., “The Power of the Archive and its Limits,” in: Hamilton, C., Harris, V., Taylor, J., Pickover, M., Reid, G., Saleh, R. (eds), Refiguring the Archive (Cape Town 2002)

Osborne, T., “The ordinariness of the archive,” in: History of the Human Sciences 12 (2), 1999, pp- 51–64

Michael Moss & David Thomas (eds), Archival Silences. Missing, Lost and, Uncreated Archives (London, New York 2021)

Trouillot, M.R., Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston, MA 1995)

Author Biographies:

After completing a BA in history and South Asian studies at the Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, Paula Schnabel has turned towards the subject of global history, finishing her master’s degree with a thesis on the global life of Austrian art historian Stella Kramrisch (1896-1993) who lived and worked in Vienna, Calcutta and Philadelphia.

After studying philosophy and area studies (with focus on South Asia) at the Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, Jannes Thode has begun his PhD project on the dynamic structures of violence in colonial Bengal between 1757 and 1818.

Both are currently working for the MIDA project as research fellows and spend their time discussing about the connection of archives, power and knowledge.

“The first bench on the side towards the sea”: the medieval provenance of MS. Lyell 70

Matthew Holford, Tolkien Curator of Medieval Manuscripts

Updating our online catalogue of medieval manuscripts is a key curatorial priority. The catalogue has entries for all of our medieval collections, but many of these records are only summaries which do not provide full information on a manuscript’s contents, codicology or history. One main task is to make all the information in the Bodleian’s printed catalogues fully available online; a second task, when time and resources permit, is to carry out additional research to ensure the record reflects the current state of knowledge and scholarship. When converting records from the Bodleian’s older printed catalogues, many of which were written in the 19th century, quite extensive intervention may be necessary. This is rarely the case with more recent texts, such as Albinia (‘Tilly’) de la Mare’s catalogue of the Lyell collection, published in 1971, but occasional opportunities do arise.

One such case is MS. Lyell 70, a 13th-century copy of Peter Comestor’s Historia Scholastica (a popular handbook of Biblical history) which has attracted attention for its glosses in Hungarian and its exuberant pen drawings.

Drawing of griffon breathing fire, on parchment page of a medieval manuscript

MS. Lyell 70 fol. 35r (detail)

De la Mare quoted two pressmarks at the end of the manuscript which she was unable to associate with an institution: “ex parte sinistra(?) de sexta banca – G-littere” (14th century) and “Iste liber debet esse in prima bancha ex parte maris” (15th century).

Manuscript note on a parchment page: Iste liber debet esse in prima bancha ex parte maris

MS. Lyell 70 fol 152v (detail)

The second of these in particular is sufficiently distinctive to hold out the possibility of being identifiable. An internet search for “banc(h)a ex parte maris” does indeed reveal that this pressmark was used by the Dominican convent of SS Giovanni e Paulo in Venice, on the northern edge of the city with the Mediterranean to its north. A similar pressmark is found, for example, in New York, Morgan Library and Museum, MS. M. 1156 (https://www.themorgan.org/manuscript/282464). A manuscript sold at Les Enluminures has the contrasting pressmark, referring to the side of the library facing the church rather than the sea: “hic liber debet esse in septima bancha ex parte ecclesie” (https://www.textmanuscripts.com/medieval/hugh-fouilloy-127696).

Our manuscript’s presence at SS. Giovanni e Paolo is confirmed by the catalogue published in the late 18th century by its librarian Domenico Maria Berardelli. The entry for our manuscript is not detailed but matches in date, size and, conclusively, number of leaves.

Printed catalogue entry: Cod. Membr. In Fol. Saec. / XIII. foll. 152.

[Google books: https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=GXRlAAAAcAAJ&pg=RA4-PA7#v=onepage&q&f=false]

Berardelli’s catalogue records the library at probably its greatest extent, and (in common with other Venetian religious houses) it was to be dispersed during a period of crisis and instability in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. In 1789 the prior of the friary complained to the civic authorities of Venice that books and manuscripts had been stolen due to the negligence of its librarian. Subsequent inquiries led to several hundred items being transferred to the Bibliotheca Marciana, in effect the state library of Venice. In 1797 Venice came under French rule, and some manuscripts were transferred to Paris. After a period (1798-1805) under Austrian control, Venice was part of the Napoleonic empire from 1806 to 1814. The libraries and archives of Venetian religious houses were in part transferred to local institutions such as the Marciana, but for the most part sold at public auction. Manuscripts from the library of SS. Giovanni e Paolo are now spread across libraries in Italy, Germany, England, the United States and elsewhere. A large number have been identified, notably by Riccardo Quinto, but MS. Lyell 70 is a new addition.

Up close and 3D: photogrammetric models at the Bodleian

John Barrett (Bodleian Imaging Studio and ARCHiOx Project) introduces the Bodleian’s growing collection of photogrammetric models

Explore on: https://sketchfab.com/ARCHiOx/models

Holy Bible; Psalms, 1660-1661, London. Embroidered binding. English, mid-17th century. Blue silk binding, embroidered with silver wire; portrait of Charles II on front board, Catherine of Braganza on back. Broxb. 45.2. https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/broxb-452-8fbcd617f9bd4e3799bbad8ce7d54add

Since 2022, the aim of ARCHiOx (Analysis and Recording of Cultural Heritage in Oxford) has been to record the three-dimensional surface of items in Bodleian collections. The recordings have demonstrated that the micro-topography of books, manuscripts, printing plates and artworks can tell us a huge amount about who made them, how they were made and about people’s interactions with them since they were made. An imaging system called the Selene, developed by project partner the Factum Foundation, has been used to acquire this 3D data. Using a principle called photometric stereo, the Selene is able to record relief on the surface of an original with a maximum variation in height of around 15-20 millimetres. This makes the Selene well suited for the recording of library and gallery material, where high resolution data is of great benefit and the originals are mostly flat.

Recording a book binding as an object so that every face is captured requires a different approach. While the Selene acquires 3D data through capturing images illuminated from different angles and with the camera in a static position, photogrammetry is a technique which works in the opposite way. A photogrammetric recording is made by photographing an object from multiple angles under even illumination and combining the images into a three-dimensional model. In the case of the books and manuscripts which have so far been captured for the project, each binding has been photographed between 150 to 300 times and the images aligned in software. The resulting recording can be navigated and relit by the end user onscreen, as if turning the original in their hands.

An early 17th century embroidered dos-à-dos binding combining The Whole Booke of Psalms and The New Testament. N.T. Eng. 1630 g. https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/nt-eng-1630-g1-8aa0484213814a238fac3480e0e87f6f

A wireframe view of the same volume revealing the polygonal structure which forms the surface of the model.

Rather than moving the camera to capture the book from each position, by mounting the camera on a support and slowly rotating the book on a turntable, a series of captures can be photographed relatively efficiently. Around 30 exposures are made per rotation at intervals of approximately 12-degrees. The camera is then moved up or down and another round of images made until a set of captures are acquired from at least five different heights. An additional two or three rounds of images are made after turning the book over to reveal the edge on which it was previously standing. Depending on the proportions and condition of the volume, the book may be recorded horizontally, vertically, or both. The surface of the resulting model is formed of millions of polygons on to which a texture is projected providing the colour and tone of the original.

In order to maximise accuracy and efficiency, a programmable turntable named the TablePi2 has been used extensively for the photogrammetry of the Bodleian’s books, manuscripts and artworks. This highly efficient programmable turntable synchronises rotation and capture. Using this solution, the bindings of small books can be captured in their entirety in just a few minutes. The processing of the captured images into a 3D model is considerably slower and more complicated.

Thirsis Minnewit – De vrolykee zang-godin, 1690, Amsterdam. Dutch, late 17th century. Four volumes have been bound together back-to-back, in a style known as double ‘dos-à-dos’, in this copy at Bodleian shelfmark Broxb. 1.27. https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/broxb-127-240b716a1e2a4c28b3746edea02c0956

Preliminary recording of the same volume showing how a small change in the position of the upper board during capture has resulted in an unsuccessful 3D model with missing areas.

While high-resolution surface data from an A5 size original can be recorded using the Selene in less than a minute, the capture, processing and editing involved in creating a photogrammetric model can take several hours. Successful photogrammetry relies on the original not changing in shape during capture. A change in volume of just a couple of millimetres can result in problems similar to the example shown above, where the upper board has moved between exposures. Although a closed book may appear not to change considerably when it is turned either horizontally or vertically, the extent to which the opening of the fore-edge changes can often result in the images not being properly aligned. For this reason, and in cases where the original has been recorded to reveal an opening, the lower edge may have been omitted from recording.

Oeuvres, Jacques le Royer, 1678, Avranches (shelfmark: Broxb. 46.10). This very rare volume of scientific tracts has a functional binding: one cover houses a stylus or gnomon that acts as a sundial. https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/broxb-4610-dbd79fe9abe44eab9f688f3766903438

Where beneficial, volumes have been recorded so that both the outside and inside of the boards are shown in the model. A note written by bookseller E. P. Goldschmidt, accompanying the volume shown above, states that this is an example of ‘A rare and extraordinary book printed at a small town in Normandy, preserved in its original binding which in fact comprises astronomical instruments without which no copy can be said to be complete.’ Before being presented to the Bodleian in 1978, this booked belonged to the Broxbourne library, compiled by book collector Albert Ehrman (1890-1969). Ehrman had a particular interest in bookbinding and named his library after his hometown in Hertfordshire. Many of the 3D models created and published by ARCHiOx have been recorded from volumes in the Bodleian’s Broxbourne collection, including the 17^th century embroidered book of Psalms shown at the beginning of this post. This volume features portraits of Charles II and Catherine of Braganza. One of the first photogrammetric recordings to be made at the Bodleian, this model was made under the guidance of Ana Carrasco Huertas, PhD candidate, conservator and archaeologist from the University of Granada.

Dozens of 3D models have since been created and published. Finding solutions for making successful models in an efficient way has involved a great deal of experimentation. A recurring complication which myself and colleague Dylan Schirmacher encounter is in the processing of models captured from bindings bearing matching designs on both boards. Often these have been so perfectly made that even the sophisticated photogrammetry software is unable to detect that the upper and lower boards constitute two separate faces rather than one. The resultant model compiles all of the images to form a single face with four surrounding sides. This is testament to the bookbinders’ skill in duplicating their design.

Auct. T. inf. 1. 10, New Testament, lacking Revelation (‘Codex Ebnerianus’). 12th century, beginning, Byzantine, Constantinople https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/ms-auct-t-inf-1-10-ce1a9803e7d2470484e4451fa2e13252

Reproducing the reflective nature of metallic surfaces is particularly challenging in both conventional photography and in photogrammetry. The incredible silver and ivory binding from the Byzantine, Codex Ebnerianus was photographed from over 300 different angles to produce the model shown above. By selectively masking only the silver parts of the model and applying a metalness mask, the author’s colleague, Dylan Schirmacher has produced a very convincing 3D recreation of the original. Not only is it hoped that this recording will be beneficial to researchers, it will also safeguard this unique and fragile manuscript binding.

[pr.] Shelley g.1, Sophocles, 1809, Oxford. https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/pr-shelley-g1-61a9301b60904911967f0ff6fe8df219

The majority of the volumes selected for photogrammetry have been chosen primarily due to their aesthetic quality. The small volume shown above is an exception, and was recorded because of the intriguing story surrounding its provenance. It was presented to the Library in in 1893 and catalogued by Librarian, E.W.B. Nicholson, as being ‘Found in Shelley’s hand at his death’. The volume was displayed with the caption ‘Shelley’s Sophocles which he had with him when drowned. Presented to the Bodleian Library, Oxford, by Jane, Lady Shelley [The end edge is supposed to show the mark of Shelley’s thumb]’. Whether or not the story is true, there is good evidence to support the claim that volume belonged to Percy Shelley. The Bodleian holds a matching, pocket-sized edition of Aeschylus containing annotations in Shelley’s hand. Had the Sophocles volume not been discovered with Shelley’s body, perhaps it could have been among the volumes salvaged from his boat, the Ariel. What is undeniable is the presence of a thumb-sized indentation on the upper edge of this small, badly water-damaged book.

The reader is invited to explore the Bodleian’s growing collection of photogrammetric models using the following link.

https://sketchfab.com/ARCHiOx/models

This exciting project has been made possible through the generous funding support of the Helen Hamlyn Trust.

John Barrett is Studio Manager and Senior Photographer for Bodleian Imaging Services and ARCHiOx Technical Lead at the Bodleian Libraries

A conversation with Robert Bolick, collector and curator of ‘Books on Books’

Hands holding a print of Trajan's column

Opening a copy of Rutherford Witthus, TRAIANVS: A Folly for Bibliophiles (2023)

by Emilia Osztafi, intern, Bodleian Rare Books section

Robert Bolick has been collecting artists’ books since 2012. His collection ‘Books on Books’ contains over 1200 items: artists’ books, livres d’artistes, altered books, book objects, prints and ephemera. He writes about individual pieces on his blog, books-on-books.com. A selection of over 150 works featured in the recent Bodleian exhibition curated by Robert, Alphabets Alive! (July 2023 to January 2024), and he is donating a large collection to the Bodleian, making artists’ books physically accessible to future readers. These are now being catalogued by the Bodleian Rare Books section.

I am an undergraduate studying English at Wadham College, Oxford, with a growing interest in book history, and currently the summer intern in the Bodleian Rare Books section. Here, I’m getting an insight into what librarians do – the behind-the-scenes of the Bodleian’s Department of Special Collections. It was fascinating to speak to Robert about the themes and implications of his collection.

The phrase ‘Books on Books’ speaks to a fundamental aspect of artists’ books: they interrogate the book. Some pieces play with the material form of books – binding, printing, typography – and the idea of the book. Others respond to text in experimental ways.

Artists’ books present interesting dilemmas for librarians. How do we catalogue a book whose pages have been glued shut? Should a box of cigarettes printed with text be considered a book?

Where a library would organize a collection by author of the text, Robert’s list prioritises the visual artist. Chaucer’s ABC is listed under F for Joyce Francis, the artist of the wood engraving on the title page and paper cover. Many artists’ books, as Robert says, are fundamentally about the relation of text to image, which is not just ‘text versus image’ but perhaps ‘text and image’ or even ‘text drives image’ or, conversely, ‘image drives text’.

What seems to be a simple learning tool for children – the alphabet book – alerts us that letters are not just text, but visual shapes which we must learn to read as text, and speak as sound. Experimenting with alphabets appeals to book artists like Kurt Schwitters, whose Die Scheuche Märchen [The Scare-Crow Fairy Tale] (1925) has letters jump out of their expected places to act out the sounds they might make.

This artist’s book, like many others in Robert’s collection, resembles illustrated children’s books. When I ask whether children should be able to use and enjoy the Books on Books, Robert is surprisingly generous. Although he would be careful giving ‘vigorous’ young readers books that are theoretically unique, he is less concerned when it comes to books in multiples, even limited editions. ‘I’m not too bothered if some of these works are damaged, or altered, in usage.’ This goes for all books, Robert says, even ‘rare books’. We shouldn’t forget that valuable items have indeed been touched, kissed, and doodled in by readers across time.

Protection and conservation are crucial concerns for libraries, as I learnt from my first week in the Bodleian Libraries Rare Books office, where I was tasked with calling up valuable and fragile first edition books to be taken off the open shelves in the University of Oxford’s libraries. Artists’ books often poke fun at the stereotypical collector’s fantasy of a ‘clean copy’, and the attempts of library conservators to keep a book in its original state. Tim Mosely’s The Book of Tears (2014) – a pun on tearing and crying – invites the reader to ‘make a tear in the pages of the book (or if you are a conservator a repair)’ and according to Mosely’s website, the ‘final state of the book is determined by the book’s owner’. A book that will be altered by its readers poses a practical problem for libraries. It also throws a fascinating light on the relationship between the book and the library in our culture.

You can hear more about this theme of libraries and altered books in the recordings of a 2023 symposium on Agrippa: A book of the dead (a ‘self-destructing book’)

In the Bodleian’s hands, items in the Books on Books collection will be available for scholars, teachers, and interested people to experience and enjoy. Reading rooms are, of course, quiet and controlled environments, but Robert finds that the Bodleian reading rooms still maintain some freedom to ‘let a book articulate itself’ by handling it, taking photos, and moving its parts.

Some books are just too large, or contain too many moveable parts, to be read seated in the library. TRAIANVS (2023), by the librarian and book artist Rutherford Witthus, enacts the Column of Trajan in a tall accordion book in a box, which slides open to reveal two secret books bound together and printed with an ABC.

Rutherford Witthus’s TRAIANVS, unfolded on a library seminar table

In response to my probing question as to whether ‘to read’ is the right verb to convey the experience of larger installation pieces, Robert replies, yes. We can even ‘read’ architectural book art like Jeffrey Morin and Steven Ferlauto’s Sacred Space (2003) – a twelve-inch chapel, its glass walls printed with letters of the alphabet. Sacred Space encourages a kind of sacred reading practice, echoing centuries of meditative ritual in churches furnished with stained glass windows and stone carvings, telling scriptural stories. An essential part of ‘reading’ this piece is building the chapel, literally, from its glass panels.

Jeffrey Morin and Steven Ferlauto’s Sacred Space (2003)

A key theme of Books on Books is alterations, which can take different forms. Carving away physical chunks of Tristram Shandy, as Brian Dettmer (2014) does, is not the same as the erasure of words and phrases from pages, as in Jérémie Bennequin’s Erased Proust Writing (2016). Robert believes these artists are ‘saying different things, about the book, about the process of making and unmaking, and the process by which unmaking becomes making.’

Robert writes his blog posts for book artists, interested people, and people who ask him, ‘What do you mean, book art? What do you mean, book artist? What is that?!’ He hopes there will be further exhibitions and displays of his collection in the future, giving us the chance to hover and walk around the pieces, and circulating them beyond the reading room. Meanwhile the works are available for Bodleian Libraries readers (link to Admissions) and for visiting classes (link to CSB).

Artists’ books can be complicated, infused with philosophy and critical theory, and demanding us to decode them. But they are also a way of getting at these ideas, making them visible and real. Towards the end of our conversation, Robert says, ‘I find it really fascinating to grasp an otherwise impenetrable expression in the philosophy of aesthetics by simply looking at some aesthetic object made in response to that expression. “Oh, that’s what you’re trying to say. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”‘

A Remarkable Find: The Discovery of an Unknown Manuscript in the Bodleian

Bodleian 4° N 14(5) Th BS

by Rahel Micklich, postdoctoral research fellow, Julius Maximilian University of Würzburg

The Bodleian Library, famous for its treasures and rich history, never fails to surprise. This holds true even for Colin Harris, the former Superintendent of the Bodleian’s Special Collections Reading Rooms, who devoted five decades of his life to this role. Now retired, he can still be found sitting at the very end of the Mackerras Reading Room on level one of the Weston Library, every Monday to Friday!

It was here , while poring over prints, rare books, and photographs, that he ‘stumbled’ upon an uncatalogued manuscript, nestled in the middle of a 16^th-century collective volume, primarily composed of anti-Lutheran polemics and tracts defending the Catholic Mass. This year now marks the quincentenary of its printed source text.

The volume, located under the shelfmark 4° N 14(5) Th BS, is bound in a 19th-century Bodleian binding and aptly titled Eckius Aliique Contra Lutheranos (“Eckius and Others Against the Lutherans”). It comprises two parts: the first contains two texts authored by one of Martin Luther’s staunchest opponents, the Catholic theologian Johann Eck (1486–1543). The Bodleian acquired it in the 17th century. The second and larger part consists of ten texts acquired by the Bodleian in 1835 from the renowned auction house Sotheby’s, which was selling portions of the library of the German book collector Georg Kloss (1787–1854). This section includes writings by Johann Eck, Hieronymus Emser (1477–1527), and Johann Cochlaeus (1479–1552).

Among these, Colin spotted the manuscript. Hidden in the volume, it hadn’t attracted any particular attention. The copy contains the text of Hieronymus Emser’s Canonis Missae contra Huldricum Zvinglium Defensio (Dresden, 1524), published in defence of the Mass against the Swiss Reformer Huldrych Zwingli.

Emser had already challenged Luther’s critique of the Mass, and rebutted Zwingli just six weeks later, longing that Zwingli might return to the holy bosom of the Church (reditum eius in sanctum ecclesiae gremium vehementer sitiens).

Surprisingly, the manuscript copy though neatly written shows a series of mistakes, with the transcription exhibiting almost five hundred deviations from the original. The biggest blunder, however, is found right at the beginning, as the scribe copies the wrong dedication, mixing it up with the dedication of the preceding text, Emser’s tract against Luther!

Emser’s tract against Zwingli is available in three imprints, one published in 1524 in Dresden, another in the same year in Strasbourg, and a third in 1532 in Cologne. Of these, the Strasbourg edition is the most flawed. A comparison suggests that the copyist followed the Dresden edition, the most accurate of the three.

fol. 1v

A notable example of how the manuscript could be affected by the scribe is his substitution or muddling up of incircumcisus (in the imprint) with incircumtonsus (in the manuscript). While the Dresden printing reads (referencing 1 Sam. 17: 26) incircumcisus tam corpore quam corde et labiis (“uncircumcised in body, heart and words”), the manuscript reads incircumtonsus (“giving up one’s tonsure in body, heart and words”). This might be a reading mistake, but it could also be an intentional choice to point at Luther, a monk who had turned away from his vow.

There is a strong argument that the manuscript was produced not before August 1526, two years after the Dresden and Strasbourg editions. In it, Emser’s text is preceded by an introduction, written by the same hand, which refers to Jodocus Clithopheus’ Propugnaculum Ecclesiae adversus Lutheranos, published in Paris in August 1526. The introduction quotes almost verbatim a passage from chapter 6 of book 1, summarising Emser’s writings against Luther and Zwingli.

Canonis Missae contra Huldricum Zvinglium Defensio, fol. 1r

But who copied or commissioned the text, and why? And what about its provenance? Whose library did it belong to?

Sotheby’s Catalogue of the Library of Dr. Kloss, which lists all the books acquired from the German book collector, seems to provide an answer: the German Reformer Philipp Melanchthon! It describes the compilation of Reformation polemics as ‘a very rare and curious collection of tracts relating to the Lutheran controversy,’ and suggests that ‘it is very probable that the manuscript copy of the tract by Zvinglius [one of the many mistakes of the catalogue: the text is Emser’s against Zwingli] is copied by Melancthon.’

However, one shouldn’t get too excited, since it is, as we say today, fake news. Sotheby’s appears to have employed a clever marketing strategy, claiming a large portion of the Kloss collection as Melanchthon’s––much to Kloss’s annoyance.

Over the years, Kloss wrote several letters expressing his indignation about it, and in 1841, he finally released a public statement distancing himself from Sotheby & Son’s ‘fabricating a Bibliotheca Melanchthonia.’ Poor Melanchthon, thought Kloss, would have suffered from aching hands had he indeed written all the marginalia as stated in the Catalogue. Kloss seemed concerned that Sotheby’s shenanigans might tarnish his own reputation. Moreover, it was a matter of honour for him not to be silent on the swindle and to distance himself from their ‘Melanchthomania’.

It’s hardly surprising that the manuscript did not come from Melanchthon’s library, given its pro-Catholic content and the anti-Lutheran attitude of the entire collection, not to mention that the handwriting doesn’t match Melanchthon’s. It is more likely that the volume originated from the library of a well-educated Roman Catholic with a keen interest in the topic. Unfortunately, little more can be said about it at present, but further research might provide clarification.

While the manuscript does not share the 500^th birthday with Emser’s Defensio, as suggested, its unearthing can stand as a celebration of Emser’s tract from 1524. Moreover, it may invite further scholarship not only on the topic but also on itself. And, last but not least, it serves as a reminder that there may still be undiscovered treasures within the vast universe of libraries, even within renowned institutions like the Bodleian. In any case, Colin Harris’ finding is a remarkable one.

Thanks to Colin for advice and encouragement!

For the whole story, read the post on The History of the Book blog.

Ulysses meets Casanova

James Joyce, Ulysses (1922) open to title page

James Joyce, Ulysses (London: Egoist Press, 1922). Bodleian Library, Ryder 2

Evi Heinz, Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin

One of the treasures of the Bodleian’s John Ryder collection is a copy of the first British edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses, published in a private limited edition by John Rodker for the Egoist Press in October 1922. An intriguing detail in this volume throws new light on the relationship between the Irish writer’s infamous modernist novel and the contemporary trade in polite erotica.

The Egoist Press’s British edition of Ulysses was printed from the same plates as Sylvia Beach’s earlier Paris edition – a text famously riddled with misprints – and was issued with an eight-page errata sheet. In Ryder 2, this sheet has been bound into the volume and in one place shows a watermark spelling the name ‘Casanova’.

Light through sheet of paper showing watermark: Casanova

Casanova watermark on errata sheet bound in with Ryder 2

This curious watermark has been identified by bibliographical scholar Gerald W. Cloud as belonging to a London-based private press called the ‘Casanova Society’. This publishing venture, also managed by Rodker, issued luxurious limited editions of erotic classics, from the Memoirs of Casanova to the Arabian Nights.

The use of the ‘Casanova’ paper for the Ulysses errata sheets is likely incidental – Rodker, who was engaged in both publishing projects at the same time, may have simply needed some spare paper at short notice and used what he had to hand. Nevertheless, this unexpected material encounter between two very different cultural signifiers is worth exploring further: What can the publications of the Casanova Society tell us about how Joyce’s book fits into the early twentieth-century limited editions market? And how does Ulysses feature in the literary imagination of contemporary readers of polite erotica?

The Memoirs of Giacomo Casanova di Seingalt, trans. by Arthur Machen (London: Casanova Society, 1922-23), 12 vols. Bodleian, Arch. D d.73

Among the Casanova Society titles deposited in the Bodleian collections is a copy of the luxuriously produced 12-volume Memoirs of Giacomo Casanova di Seingalt, printed privately for subscribers between 1922 and 1923. With its gilt edges, quarter-calf binding and fine printing on hand-made paper, this publication tells us something about the level of material excellence that was expected by early twentieth-century collectors.

It also allows us to put into perspective the claims that are sometimes made for the early limited editions of Ulysses as ‘deluxe’ publications. In fact, their less than perfect printing and fragile softcover binding are a far cry from contemporary bibliophile’s editions, such as those issued by the Casanova Society. Ryder 2 is an interesting example of this fragility: the copy appears to have been rebound in leather by a previous owner but is now missing its cover and is held together by a make-shift book sleeve.

Ryder 2, binding and make-shift book sleeve

On a literary level, too, the Casanova Society offers an interesting perspective on Joyce’s novel: Francis MacNamara’s preface to Balzac’s The Physiology of Marriage, printed privately by the Casanova Society in 1925, makes direct mention of Ulysses as a modern successor to the French love literature of the early nineteenth century. Noting that ‘in Joyce’s Ulysses we have the very love that is demanded of a husband, the love of things in all their distasteful reality’ (p. vii), MacNamara presents the Irish writer’s book as a work in the tradition of Stendhal and Balzac, offering an intriguing way of approaching its much discussed ‘obscenity’.

Indeed, it is in this context that the linkage between Ulysses and the Casanova Society offers the most food for thought: both are phenomena of the 1920s that can tell us something about how the book culture of the period negotiated the borders between good taste and bad, literature and obscenity. And the watermark on the Ryder 2 errata sheets – where Ulysses meets Casanova – is a potent symbol of this intriguing cultural conjunction.

Evi Heinz was Sassoon Visiting Fellow at the Bodleian Libraries during October and November 2023

The Bodleian Conveyor

News about special collections from the Bodleian Libraries, Oxford