Perhaps it’s the historian in me, but I love marginalia — when it is done well, at least.  I recently found this phrase written on the title page of a 1573 English copy of Pierre Viret’s Christian Instruction. 

As it turns out, “non est mortale quod opto,” which according to my very weak Latin skills is something akin to “what I desire is not mortal,” was a common phrase used in a variety of inscriptions on chairs, doorposts, and even inserted into books by book collectors. It originates from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Liber II, line 56, which actually reads: “sors tua mortalis, non est mortale, quod optas.”

It comes as Phoebus (the Sun) replies to his son Phaethon’s request to have control of his father’s chariot and wing-footed horses for a day.  Phoebus replied that he was asking too great a favor, one that is unfitting for his strength and youth.  Not even Jupiter, the mighty lord of Olympus can can drive this team of horses. He continues, “sors tua mortalis, non est mortale, quod optas,” that is, “your fate is mortal, what you desire is not mortal.”

So it appears that this quote has for centuries been reappropriated to express the human desire for the divine.  I wonder what the writer of this phrase onto the title page of Viret’s magnum opus intended to convey by this.  Was he commenting on the text, or just following a common practice?

Popularity: 38% [?]

I realize the title of this post sounds more like a Poirot novel, but I am actually refering to another example of mysterious book provenance I found in our library today. In 1851, the London publisher Thomas Bosworth published a second edition of Cases of Conscience; or, Lessons in Morals: for the Use of the Laity by Pascal the Younger (a.k.a. Pierce Connelly). The book is more of a pamphlet, and so was easily published together with a letter to W. E. Gladstone, Member of Parliament for the University of Oxford, who apparently held to some rather appeasing positions regarding the validity of the Church of Rome. The author attempts in this letter to convince Gladstone of the inconsistency of Romanism with true piety.

The letter itself is interesting reading, but the mysterious part is the handwritten, 4-page, note I found tucked within the book. The handwriting is rather hard to read (for me, at least), but it appears to be commending this publication along with the Church of Rome’s reply (which is not included in our binding). My best effort at interpreting note with links to images of the pages:

[page 1]
Blendworth _____
Hon. dean -
Feb. 6, 1859

My dear _______ /
I am very anxious / to put before you two / pamphlets written by / a friend of mine of / distinguished ability. / Their titles are “Cases / of Conscience or Lessons / in Morals for the use / of the Laity” by Pascal / [page 2] The Younger and / these men _____ Pascal / the Younger. / The Church of Rome’s / Defense against Cases / of Conscience with a Reply. / I consider these Pam- / phlets as one of the / severest blows, which the / Church of Rome has / received in modern / [page 3] times – a blow from which / she cannot recover – / Pray tell me the name / of your London bookseller / that _____ send you a / copy of each (of which I / expect _____ exceptance) / in kind to forward – / Should you like the Pam / phlets, those ____ will / kindly recommend them / to others; as it is a great / [page 4] object with my friend / (whose name I _____ _____ / mention) to sell his _____ / In this once well off, he / is now alas! in needy / circumstances -/
My archdeacon (_____) / says “this reply” is one of / the cleverest things he has / ever seen -/
_____ are my dear _____ / In _____ /

Edw. L. Ward

My best guess at the identity of the author is Edward Langton Ward, rector of Blendworth until his death in 1881.

Any help you can give me in deciphering the script of this note would be appreciated, for curiosity’s sake if nothing else. The next to last unreadable word appears to be the same as the second unreadable word.

Don’t you just love books?

Popularity: 40% [?]

Forget the Da Vinci Code. Forget the Bible Code. Today marks the beginning of my quest to hunt down the real meaning behind the Oscar Mayer Code. If I should go missing over the weekend, my quest may have led me into the nefarious world of the Oscar Mayer Code.

Every now and then I pull a random book off the shelves here at our library just to see if it says anything interesting. Today I hit the jackpot. It seems that on December 7, 1955, Oscar Mayer (yes, that Oscar Mayer) delivered a chapel address to the students of Beloit College in Wisconsin entitled, “A Plan for Living.” In this address the Harvard educated (A.B., 1909) meat-processing businessman prescribed an eleven word “code” for living. I have only recently discovered a rare transcript of this address buried deep within the bowels of our mysterious library.

The transcript (click on the image) appears to imply that three of the words in the Oscar Mayer Code have some sort of special, and perhaps hidden, significance: Development, Consideration, Service. To complicate matters, it appears that this transcript was donated to our library by the author himself.

Questions that remain:

1. What do the emphasized words mean? What is the symbolism? Is it a puzzle? A riddle?
2. Why would Mayer discreetly hide a copy of the transcript in an unrelated institution?
3. Why has the transcript not circulated? It would appear that no one has checked it out. Ever.
4. Does the date the address, December 7, have any significance?

Is this all just a bunch of bologna?

Your thoughts?

UPDATE: My initial research has unearthed this video clip. Is it of any significance?

Popularity: 21% [?]

This inscription is from Svenskt Bibliskt Uppslagsverk, an apparent dictionary gifted by one of the editors, Ivan Engnell, a former professor of Old Testament at Uppsala in Sweden, to William F. Albright when they met in Uppsala in May, 1952. The book subsequently became a part of our library’s William F. Albright Collection.

This inscription written inside the book by Engnell appears to be in one of the Scandinavian languages, probably Swedish, but I have no idea what it says. Do you?

Popularity: 23% [?]

Unlike most librarians, I actually don’t mind when patrons write in books — as long as they do it correctly. Marginalia is the technical term, and this does NOT include underlining and gaudy pink highlighting. I find marginalia fascinating because it provides a reading companion who dialogues with me while I read. They tell me what they thought was important, though I often disagree. They speak of cross-references and similar or contradicting arguments by others. Marginalia often enhances the experience of reading in ways that would leave us poorer without them.

Ownership marks in books are also fascinating to me. They aid in establishing the work’s provenance, or chain of ownership. I am currently repairing the binding on a book now owned by a seminary student but which was formerly owned by New Testament scholar Bruce Metzger (I must here offer a public apology to said student – I’ve had the book for about a year, but it should be done soon. Really.)

Today I came across this book, the provenance of which is unusually easy to piece together. It was donated to our library by Mrs. A. T. Robertson, wife of Dr. A. T. Robertson, another New Testament scholar. The donation bookplate:

>

Prior Dr. Robertson’s ownership, the book apparently belonged to his father-in-law, Dr. John A. Broadus, the well-known preacher and president of the seminary. Dr. Broadus’ signature on the fly leaf indicates his ownership:

Prior to that, the book was owned by a slew of people:

• J. H. Vincent (?), New Haven, CT
• John Potts, Montreal, Que.
• Franklin Fairbanks, St. Johnsbury, VT
• W. G. E. ??nny?ham, Nashville, TN
• B. M. Palmer, New Orleans, LA
• B. F. Jacobs, Chicago, IL
• James A. Worden, Princeton, NJ
• D. H. ????ica, Montreal, Que.
• H. Louis baugher, Gettysburg, PA
• Warren Randolph, Newport, RI

Their signatures are nicely ordered adjacent to the title page (click for a larger image):

Books have stories — no pun intended — and they influence the lives of multiple generations in multiple places, and the stories of how they move from one to another are largely lost. It’s alot like that coin in Clive Cussler’s Sahara…

Popularity: 14% [?]