religion

A delightful reliure parlante depicting the statue of the so-called Black Madonna, an object of veneration for countless pilgrims, here binding two works printed at the shrine of Maria Einsidel, at Einsiedeln Abbey near Zurich. The Abbey, originally the hermitage of the ninth-century St Meinrad, became a major pilgrimage destination, attracting pilgrims to its Chapel of Grace, reputed by legend to have been consecrated by angels or by Christ himself. The central focus of the pilgrimage was (and still is) the fifteenth-century statue of the Black Madonna or ‘Our Lady of the Hermits’, successor to a much older image associated with St Meinrad himself. The Abbey became a significant centre for printing and several printers produced books, images and pamphlets for pilgrims there, but surviving bindings, presumably made there too, are rare.

‘The history of the Einsiedeln figure is somewhat convoluted: it is thought to have been carved about 1450, replacing a much older, seated Madonna. In 1798, the statue was secreted through Switzerland and Austria to protect it from the invading French army. It was uncovered the following year and given to the restorer Johann Adam Fuetscher, who describes having “repainted” the black face. It is assumed the original statue did have light, pink-colored skin, but the figure is thought to have turned black long before its restoration. While many sources further the idea that the statue was darkened from years of exposure to the flames and smoke from nearby candles, the image of the Black Madonna is nonetheless a distinct object of worship and pilgrimage’ (Hanna Siesel, The Frick Collection blog, September 16, 2016).

Huysmans died on 12 May, 1907 after a long illness. He had dictated the text of his funeral invitation In his last days, having reportedly seen the handsome black-edged funeral notice of an acquaintance. Calling himself homme de lettres, adding his presidency of the Académie des Goncourt and membership of Légion d’Honneur, he simply states that he died ‘muni des Sacrements de l’Eglise’ (fortified by the sacraments of the church). It begins with the address ‘M[onsieur]’ for the addition of a recipient’s name, but it is blank here. The souvenir card is similarly black-edged and contains short excerpts from five of Huysmans’ works: En Route, La Cathèdrale, Sainte Lydwine, L’Oblat and Les Foules de Lourdes. The funeral took place at the church of Notre-Dame-des-Champs, and Huysmans was buried in the cemetery of Montparnasse — clothed, according to his last wishes, in the garb of a Benedictine monk. Banks, The Image of Huysmans, p. 205,

First edition of these sermons by a French Huguenot emigré pastor in Dublin. The first two sermons are on the subject of religious toleration: ‘Contre l’Intolerance’ and ‘Les justes bornes de la Tolerance’. The Toleration Act had been enacted in Ireland in 1719, granting Dissenters freedom of worship and allowed them to run schools. Caillard argues that not only was intolerance immoral, but irrational and imprudent. ‘It is imprudent since enforcing a set of beliefs undermines society: it leads groups to take a defensive stance against other groups, destroying public order. It is irrational since, while coercion can lead people to accept a belief outwardly, it cannot alter their inner convictions. It is immoral because coercion’s inability to change inner beliefs means it can only breed lies and hypocrisy, and because individuals have the right to self-determination. However this toleration was not to be extended to Catholics. The sermon was preached on 5th November, commemorating the failure of the Gunpowder Plot. In a later sermon, Caillard established the limits of toleration. While still endorsing the individual right to self-determination, Caillard argues there is a limitation on religious freedom: that such freedom not be harmful to religion in general or society as a whole.’ (Toleration in 18th century Ireland, Irish Philosophy.com)

The book includes a subscriber’s list of men and women, both of Irish and French extraction. Among them is the name of moral philosopher Francis Hutcheson, then resident in Dublin. It is not difficult to trace a connection between Caillard’s arguments for tolerance based on circumstances and Hutcheson’s theories of moral rights, including the right to free conscience — which were later to have a profound influence on both the French and American constitutions. Outside Europe we find copies at Illinois, Charleston and Penn only.

An unusually well-preserved livre à système with a large number of printed slips encompassing the gamut of human wickedness according to the seventeenth-century Catholic church.
Designed as a practical aid to the sacrament of confession Leuterbreuver’s ingenious little work first appeared in 1677 and ran to many editions into the eighteenth century. Intended as a complete manual of confession, the moveable slips provided a solution to the age-old problem of making a full and detailed confession from memory. The confessor can mark the sins relevant to him or her by lifting the corresponding printed slips and then replacing them so that no-one need ever know what was confessed. In reality, the lifted slips were often folded to mark them more clearly and it is, of course, intriguing to see which of the hundreds of sins have been marked (comparatively few in this copy). The book as a whole provides an uncommonly intimate view of the seventeenth-century soul, akin to listing at the door of the confessional.
The sins are set out according to the Ten Commandments and provide a glittering array of human failings. One wonders whether the popularity of the book was as much because it provided such a panorama of the dark side of the soul. The list of sins for the ninth commandment, for example includes memoranda for ‘Avoir eu des pensées & des désirs lascifs. Y avoir eu de la délectation... Avoir prêté consentement aux illusions nocturnes... Avoit employé l’art magique des breuvages, & choses semblables, pour engager quelque personne en amour... Avoir dit des chansons lascives. Avoir dit les contes, & tenu des entretiens lascifs. Avoir fait des billets & écrits lascifs. Avoir eu, lû, & donné les Livres lascifs... Avoir jetté des regards déshonnêtes...’ WorldCat lists copies of this edition at the Catholic Institute of Paris and British Library only.

One of the strangest memorials of the Great War and one of the best known works by the nuns of Maredret, celebrated revivalists of the medieval art of manuscript illumination. The pastoral letter of Cardinal Mercier archbishop of Malines/Mechelen was addressed to the clergy and faithful of his diocese in the early months of the Great War, when Belgium was facing the terrible consequences of a German occupation, to encourage courage, fortitude and patriotic duty. Its text was taken by the two most talented nuns of the abbey of Maredret (near Namur), Agnès Desclée and Marie-Madeleine Kerger, and transcribed and illuminated under the most terrifying circumstances. The sheets were at one point hidden in a double-bottomed pig trough to evade discovery during the German occupation. The illumination records in medieval idiom key episodes of Belgium’s trials between 1914 and 191 — including the devastation of Aarschot, Dinant and Tamines, the execution of civilians, the burning of the halls and library of the University of Louvain as well as relief received from the United States. The medieval figures and scenes have subtle (even humorous) modernisations - notably the addition of modern Belgian, British and American flags, while the monstrous Krupp guns are rendered as canons. In each plate, the scenes are explained with brief captions on the tissue guards.

The manuscript was reproduced after the war and issued in this 1921 edition, the prefatory text in either French or English (this copy in French) and sent to supporters around the world, notably in the United States. This copy is one of the 750 numbered copies on Hollande (after 500 on Japon).

J.P. Morgan in New York was to become one of the nuns’ most effective patrons in the years following the war, notably purchasing their Messe pour les Époux made in 1915 in 1921. He had been introduced to the abbey by the head of the British Museum, Frederic George Kenyon via Belle da Costa Greene. The original manuscript of the pastoral letter remains at Maredret (classified a national ‘trésor’ in 2015), while the British Library holds a manuscript copy of a single page (Add MS 40082). The work of the Maredret nuns and the genesis of this book is described by Dominique Vanwijnsberghe, ‘Un Art très monastique. L’atelier des bénédictines de Maredret de 1893 à 1940] in Thomas Coomans and Jan de Maeyer (eds.) Renaissance de l'enluminure médiévale. Manuscrits et enluminures belges du XIXe siècle et leur contexte européen. Leuven University Press, Leuven 2007, pp. 295-309.

A superb illuminated Ten Commandments, with the German text in calligraphic gothic script, beneath a title ‘Die Zehn Gebote Gottes’ arranged on a rainbow forming a partially arched top to the sheet. The background contains a rich array of iconography in the style of a medieval manuscript, including Adam and Eve in paradise at the head on a decorated gold background, God in the heavens (with sun, moon and star), personifications of each of the sins, all arranged around a central tree of life linking heaven and earth. The central scene, on a silver mandala is a betrothal or wedding scene. Perhaps most striking of all is the rich azure ground, stippled with silver and overlaid with scrolling branches and leaves, inhabited by birds and animals. It is a splendid example of late nineteenth-century medievalism, and the revival of the art of manuscript illumination, experienced in Germany as much as in other European countries, especially in the context of the revival of Roman Catholicism. The revival in Germany has been studied in detail by Michela Braesel (see ‘Medieval Elements in Nineteenth-Century German Illumination. Context and Models’ in The Revival of Medieval Illumination, ed. Thomas Coomans & Jan de Maeyer, Leuven, 2007). Little more has been discovered of the artist and the recipient, except that they were both members of a large Bingen family, of who several members appear to have emigrated to the United States.

First edition, number 10 of 11 copies on Japon (which was followed by 500 copies on Hollande, total edition 511), with the etched frontispiece by Lydis, depicting Christ as the Man of Sorrows. Cuban-born Armand Godoy was an important collaborator for Lydis. ‘Le Drame de la Passion, the most grandiose subject yet attempted by Godoy, is a musical tragedy in three acts; the characters are taken literally from the Bible with the addition of allegorical figures and types representing various aspects of humanity and nature, and of a chorus’ (French Review, 8, 2, Dec. 1934, pp. 145).

First edition with the Lydis illustrations. One of a total edition of 131 copies, this one of the 115 on papier de Rives). The illustrations, many in the style of illuminated miniatures or icons, are transformed through brilliant pochoir colouring executed in the workshop of master colourist Jean Saude, reproducing the artist’s signature on each.

These verse litanies, after the traditional catholic Marian litany, are entirely the creation of Armand Godoy and were first published (unillustrated) in 1930. Symbolist poet Godoy was born in Havana in 1880 and spent the first part of his life in Cuba and Peru, working in banking and the tobacco trade, before emigrating to France in 1919 with the express intention of becoming a poet ‘dans la langue de Baudelaire’. Much influenced by the Parnassians and the symbolists he was also a major collector of books, manuscripts and prints, amassing an unrivalled collection of Baudelaireiana. Among his numerous small-scale published works in French is his translation of Poe’s Raven — Le Corbeau d’Edgar Poe (Émile-Paul frères, 1929, with a frontispiece by Lydis). Worldcat lists copies at Princeton and Bridwell only outside continental Europe (to which we add the Edinburgh copy.

First edition with illustrations by Mariette Lydis. Le Livre de Goha le simple, by two Egyptian Jewish authors, first appeared in 1919 (Calmann-Lévy) but this 1926 deluxe illustrated edition formed part of the Collection de chefs-d’oeuvre series. It was an important commission for Lydis. Goha the Fool was immensely popular, having narrowly missed the 1919 Goncourt prize (which went to Proust that year). ‘It is possible to see the beginning of Levantine literature ― rooted in the realities of the Middle East and influenced by European culture ― in Goha le Simple … This sad and cynical love story, which employs the prototype of Goha, the hero of many Middle Eastern tales describes the lives of the common folk of Cairo before the spread of Western cultural influence’ (Mongrels or Marvels: the Levantine Writings of Jacqueline Shohet Kahanoff, ed. Starr & Somekh, 2011). Lydis’s illustrations, evidently reduced from larger drawings are striking ― mostly depicting women of all ages and classes. This is one of 1000 copies on Rives (after 100 on Hollande and 100 on Annam).

Number 9 of 100 copies of a separately-issued lithograph, coloured by the artist and exhibited at London’s Leicester Gallery in 1935. A reviewer in The Connoisseur wrote of that exhibition:
‘February’s triple bill at the Leicester Galleries began with a display of paintings, drawings and prints by Mariette Lydis, a Viennese, domiciled in Paris. She has been a prolific illustrator. No fewer than thirty volumes with drawings by her have been published, copies of which have been acquired by many of the principal national libraries. Her work may be seen in the public galleries of Paris — the Jeu du Paume and the Luxembourg — of Milan, Amsterdam, Vienna, Leipzig, and elsewhere. She has also been accorded the honour of having a self-portrait received in the Uffizi Gallery. Her travels have taken her all over Europe, to America and to Morocco, and she is said to be entirely self-taught.
In the drawings, which seem to be mainly studies or projects, her attitude, and quite rightly, appears to be objective. Often her subjects are viewed as so much still-life, but they show considerable delicacy, if not variety, in handling. Her paintings evince, especially in such subjects as the dream-like Nuages, more of imagination and more of sensibility. Sainte Vierge Enfant has a pleasant cameo-like quality, and Javanaise, considerable attractiveness. For ourselves, we find her most interesting in her etchings and lithographs. A series of the latter, entitled L’Art d’Aimer and the map like Oracle, are both imaginative and original’.

First edition of Lydis’s exquisite illustrations for selected passages from the Qur’ān, inspired by Persian miniatures. The plates, in colours and gold, were printed by Ganymed in Berlin, the text by Poeschel & Trepte in Leipzig. The book is known with several publishers’ bindings, and is here in its most striking form, with a vellum spine and marbled paper covers and slipcase (resembling Rorschach tests).

The Koran, and the miniatures Lydis created from it represent a Damascene moment in the artist’s career. They are reproduced here from her originals painted on vellum, made while she was still living in a villa outside Athens with her second husband, Jean Lydis. She later recalled their inception:

‘One day I found a copy of the Quran in the bookshop, and absorbed in reading it, finding it so full of wisdom, I suddenly decided that I had to illustrate it. Today I realize the audacity of that decision: I had no experience, nor did I possess any technique, I only felt the impatience to obtain the parchments necessary to start working.
I executed the illustrations like Persian miniatures, full of details in the landscapes and the clothing; for the first time I felt the benevolent fever of continuous work, day and night absorbed in my drawings and my colours.
In a few months I completed 42 illustrations, meticulous and colourful; I didn’t know whether they were magnificent or insignificant, but I loved them and was obsessed to the point of buying a small safe to protect them in case the villa caught fire. The house did not burn down, and my Quran, my first child, was finally published and sold out. Today I look at it without emotion, although it was decisive for my career as an artist. Many other illustrations followed it, and we are unfaithful to our works. Nevertheless, I could say that until now none of them has provoked in me the same intoxication as that work, which sprang from me like a fountain, effortlessly and before even thinking whether I could accomplish such a thing.
With my Quran completed I set out for Paris and London in search of a publisher; after a long pilgrimage I found someone interested [in Germany], and left with my contract in my pocket. That was more than satisfaction; it was the affirmation of a feeling and of the hope that had grown in me during months of work: that my paintings could produce in other people an emotion similar to mine, that I had the possibility of communicating to others what I wanted them to feel, something priceless and unpredictable for an artist. To always give the best of oneself. What one achieves seems (at least for the moment) like a realisation, an entity. Who could ever know how the public will react, what their judgement will be? Will they feel sympathy, aversion, tenderness, or hostility toward what they see before them? That public will be their judge, their friend, or their executioner. (Translated from an excerpt from Lydis’ 1942 Buenos Aires memoir, in Spanish, reproduced in Correa, En Busca de Mariette Lydis, pp. 73-4)

A most attractive Catholic primer for the communion, evidently bound as a gift with an unusual Berlin work embroidered panel. ‘Berlin wool work is embroidery with Berlin wools or any type of thread or beads on canvas by means of copying a coloured chart known as a Berlin pattern. Almost exclusively confined to the 19th century, Berlin wool derived its name from the wool that came from Merino sheep in Saxony. It was taken to Gotha to be spun and on to Berlin to be dyed... Prior to the introduction of Berlin patterns it was very rare to find any indication about the choice of colour or threads. Berlin patterns were always coloured by hand at first, until the emergence of industrial printing techniques’ (V&A). Though the style originated in Germany, Berlin work was enthusiastically practised by women all over Europe and in North America

‘Breverls’ or folding paper amulets were produced by, or on behalf of, nuns in the eighteenth century and beyond and sold to visitors and pilgrims to convent churches. They were carried by their owners or worn around the neck, sewn into clothing or tucked into pockets. Their combination of prints of saints invoked for protection against sorcery and natural disaster is variable in different examples, but most examples include (as here) a panel of bituminised (tar) paper in which is impressed small devotional objects, texts, scraps, or pieces of plant matter considered protective. These tar panels can be elaborate and even include tiny metal medals (one is preserved here). The amulets were usually tightly folded and sealed then stitched into tightly fitting fabric or paper cases. They were not designed to be opened (indeed it was believed that doing so would nullify their efficacy). This example has been fully unfolded and conserved by mounting on paper so that each of its elements is clearly visible. From the left hand top to the bottom, the elements comprise: a ‘plague cross’ (folded sheet c. 150 × 108 mm, with an engraved print with an elaborate emblematic double cross as an amulet against sorcery, fire, plague and tempest, with text: ‘Contra Maleficia et Pestum, Contra Ignem, Pestem et Tempestales; Mary at calvary; the three Magi (with engraved prayer); Saint Francis; the Virgin; Saint Anthony of Padua; Christ turning water into wine; Saint Ignatius; Christ turning water into wine (a different version); Saint John Nepomucene; a tar panel with miniature ceramic column, red felt scrap and plant seed heads; Saints Francis, Anastasius, James, Agatha (with text); small panel of printed invocation; a larger printed invocation. The red silk bag into which all these elements were formerly sewn is preserved, as is an undated nineteenth-century envelope, postmarked ‘Neisse’ (Silesia) addressed to a recipient in nearby Neustadt O.S (upper Silesia).

Breverls are remarkable evidence for popular Catholic belief, as well as the persistence of belief in magic and the constant fear of natural disaster (fire, tempest, plague, earthquakes etc) as well as a very particular tradition of devotional commerce. The prints are rarely signed and are derived from earlier archetypes, or printed from much degraded plates, their crude execution giving an appearance of greater antiquity than is sometimes the case. Surviving examples tend to date from the second half of the eighteenth-century, though they were produced both before and after. Nineteenth-century examples often appear to be printed from much worn plates, with the minute text often illegible, giving the appearance of reproduction by some stereotype process.

The holy grail — the crucified Christ standing within a chalice, his wound from the soldier’s spear bleeding freely into it, his arms supported by angels. A host of kneeling figures with candles, one swinging a censer kneel on either side. The lower panel depicts the Last Supper (complete with a small dog) with the text: ‘Sia laudato il santissimo sacramento’ (’Let the most holy sacrament be praised’). Early Christian tradition held that Christ’s blood was collected by Mary Magdalen at the time of the crucifixion in a vessel, though in images like this the symbolism is developed to depict blood flowing directly into the chalice in which Christ stands, emphasising the traditional connection between this vessel and the cup used at the Last Supper, and expressing the essence of transubstantiation at the Eucharist.

The image may be comprised of two woodblocks, though the borders are continuous around the whole print. Though probably dating from the seventeenth century, the block was clearly old when this impression was made, it shows some degradation, cracking and several circular wormholes. The area around Christ’s face is notably rubbed and soiled, possibly from kissing or touching as a mark of pious veneration.

First edition, an excellent copy, of one of the earliest of Humphreys’ well known medieval revivalist publications, entirely printed in colour in imitation of illuminated manuscripts. Parables of our Lord was issued both in this elaborate stamped black calf binding and a heavier papier mâché binding. The latter often broke the gutta percha binding of the book, leaving the pages loose. In this calf copy all pages are secure.

The colophon reads: ‘In designing the ornaments to the sacred parables contained in this volume, the illuminator has sought to render them in each instance appropriate. The work of illumination was commenced on the first day of May the year of Our Lord MDCCCXLV and terminated on the tenth day of Febry. MDCCCXLVI. HNH.’ McLean, Victorian Publishers’ Book-bindings in Paper p. 13, 51; McLean, Victorian Book Design and Colour Printing (2nd ed.) p. 99-103 and 210.

A superb version, with original illustrations, of the parable of the Return of the Prodigal Son, from the Gospel of St Luke. Number 6 of just 25 copies, each with 16 original signed gouaches by Berque, this being copy number VI.

Jean Berque (Reims, 1896 – Paris, 1954), painter and illustrator, was son of a Champagne wine producer. A student of the Nabis, Félix Vallotton, Maurice Denis and Paul Sérusier, he was one of the first members of the Union Rémoise des Arts Décoratifs and created the Stations of the Cross for the Saint-Nicaise church in Reims. Renowned for his nudes, he exhibited at the Salon d’Automne from 1924 to 1928 and at the Salon des Tuileries between 1927 and 1934. He is best known as a book illustrator and collaborated with François-Louis Schmied (whose inspiration is clear in this work), Philippe Gonin and the Gonin brothers, from Lausanne. He illustrated works by André Gide, Pierre Louys, Colette, Montherlant, André Maurois, Paul Claudel, Anna de Noailles and Paul-Jean Toulet, as well as The Song of Songs.

A large and splendid binding - of one of the notorious forgeries created by Théodore Hagué (1822-1891) one of a considerable number purporting to have been made for Henri II and his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. Hagué (1822-1891) had worked in London for Zaehnsdorf but was living in France in the 1860s when he began creating pastiche bindings and then outright forgeries, offering them for sale first in 1862. It was not until 1875 when examples found their way to London via Bernard Quaritch, who had entered into correspondence with a certain M. Caulin who was offering choice renaissance books, many apparently formerly belonging to a lost collection of Henri II and Diane de Poitiers. Quaritch sold the books almost exclusively to the British collector John Blacker. ‘Needless to say, the ordeal ended well for no one involved: by 1888, John Blacker had spent approximately thirteen years and £36,000 (£3.4 million by modern reckoning) collecting forged bindings, Bernard Quaritch was forced to scramble to cover his losses and hopefully his involvement in the whole charade, and Hagué dropped dead suddenly in 1891. Blacker’s collection was sold at Sotheby’s for £1,907 16s 6d in 1897, which translates to a little over £205,000 in 2017. Henry Folger, who began his collecting in 1883 (when John Blacker was deeply invested in purchasing Caulin/Hague’s forged bindings), kept a copy of the 1897 catalog, which features multiple full-color images made with a combination of letterpress and chromolithography, rare (and expensive) for an auction catalog at the time’ (Elizabeth DeBold, Under Cover: forged Bindings on Display at the Folger, Folger Library Blog, July 19, 2018).

Blacker’s sale included no less than nineteen books purporting to have been made for Henri II and Diane de Poitiers. This one, being a folio, has an especially expansive ‘Grolerieresque’ strapwork designs in black, white and gilt, a scheme continued in colours on the fully decorated gilt and gauffred edges. The design incorporates variations of both their monograms and devices, including Diane’s crescent moon devices (evoking Diane the Huntress, goddess of the moon, and her reputed iridescent beauty) and the famously ambiguous entwined ‘H’ and ‘D’ (the latter actually a ‘C’ for Henri’s Queen, Catherine, but easily readable as ‘D’ for Diana). Sotheby’s, Catalogue of a remarkable Collection of Books in magnificent modern Bindings, formed by an Amateur (recently deceased) (11 Nov. 1897), lot 15. Mirjam Foot, ‘Double Agent: M. Caulin and M. Hagué,’ Book Collector, Special Edition for the 150th Anniversary of Bernard Quaritch (1997), pp. 136-150. Adams B102; Von Gültlingen, Mareschal 14.

A very finely painted devotional miniature with emblems of the Passion and Ressurection: a broken tree (with fire), a flaming heart, discard crowns, rosaries and a cross. In the background are leafy tress and a convent. In the sky is a glowing rebus and a tiny gold butterfly. The text below reads ‘Vuide [sic for ‘vide’] de tout hormis dieu fait son bonheur en ce bas lieu’, the second part of the phrase being rewritten over an erasure. The text, though not identical recalls that of Pascal’s Passion (’Oubli du monde et de tout, hormis Dieu’) — the text recalling his vision of 1654 found sewn into the lining of his coat found on his death.

A diminutive French prayerbook for personal Catholic devotions with an interesting English provenance, inscribed by one Mary Radclyffe. Given that this is a Catholic prayer book there is a strong possibility that it was bought, owned and inscribed by Lady Mary Radclyffe (1732–1798) of an English Catholic family with longstanding links to the exiled Stuarts. Mary’s father, Charles, a Jacobite and freemason, was an illegitimate grandson of Charless II (by Moll Davis) and spent most of his life in exile in Europe. He took part in the Jacobite Riding of 1745 and was executed the following year. Mary Frances Guillelma Radclyffe was born at Rome in 1732 and married Francis Eyre of Warkworth Castle in February 1755. Their eldest daughter, Maria Eyre, was born later that year.

A rare Dublin edition of this popular spiritual guide by an important evangelical preacher, first published c. 1750 and several times reprinted in the eighteenth century. The adverts for other works published by Whitestone in Dublin includes a collected edition of Wesley, ‘elegantly printed’ in 32 volumes. ESTC T103515. BL and NLS only in ESTC/WorldCat.