Putting a finger on it: evidence of unusual historical repair materials and methods in two special collections

Victoria Stevens ACR

Victoria Stevens Library and Archive Preservation and Conservation Ltd.

victoriastevensconservation@gmail.com

When it comes to the repair of bound items, there is a long tradition of the reuse and repurposing of materials. The recycling of waste is predominant in the history of book construction and repair methods throughout the medieval and early modern period, with manuscript fragments and printers’ waste being reused from the earliest point of codex production. Manuscripts, discarded in favour of printed editions or rendered redundant by the Reformation, quickly found their way into new bindings in the form of covers and constructional elements such as spine linings, pastedowns or endpaper reinforcements.

Highly visible manuscript waste, repurposed to create new bindings: Campion Hall collections (top) and New College; both colleges of the University of Oxford

Rarely hidden, the aesthetic for visibly reused components did not diminish until the beginning of the C17th when the fashion for all new materials, as a signifier of wealth and the ability to afford expensive tastes, became more prevalent and the use of highly visible waste slowly dropped away.

Waste materials continued to be used, however, but usually secretly: most Victorian cloth cases use printers’ waste for spine stiffeners or linings, and in some instances, these add to the provenance and story of the bindings by providing social or geographical markers.

Hidden printers’ waste: From Round the World from London Bridge to Charing Cross, via Yokohama and Chicago: An album of pictures from photographs of the chief places of interest in all parts of the world, published by George Newnes in 1895; from the collection of Magdalen College School; adverts for brandy creating the spine lining of a book in the Wordsworth Trust collections.

A good example is the spine lining in the Examiner’s Copy of TE Lawrence’s undergraduate thesis, held in the collections of Jesus College, Oxford. Here we see that the spine lining is a clear geographical signifier, indicating its origin and confirming the likelihood of it being a local creation. On the spine lining are adverts for a robe maker in St Aldates (opposite ‘Christ Church’) and businesses on Banbury Road, one of the main thoroughfares to the north of the city centre.

The spine lining of the Examiner’s copy of TE Lawrence’s undergraduate thesis; Jesus College Oxford

It was not only binding waste that was repurposed in library and archive collections: recycled clothing and textiles often feature in binding construction, with linen and printed cotton waste being used for seal protection, spine linings, endbands and in some cases early textile book covers. I have subsequently – and excitingly – discovered that ecclesiastical robes were used for repairs to the St Catherine’s Monastery collections in Sinai (1).

The remnants of a textile seal protector; Worcester Cathedral library and archives
Dress fabric used to cover a binding: Murray, Lindley. 1829. Sequel to the English Reader. Philadelphia: McCarty & Davis; featured on the https://www.conservation-wiki.com/wiki/File:Zigzag_sewing.jpg#filelinks

A recent discovery that covers – literally- the space between the recycling of traditional binding materials and items of clothing are the glove repairs in two collections with Jesuit links, recently assessed during separate conservation audits. My interest was first drawn to several items in the special collections held at the Bar Convent, York. These remarkable repairs using soft ladies’ kid gloves are beautifully executed, with a precision and neatness that shows some significant technical and three-dimensional craft skill. The glove seams are clearly visible, and carefully positioned to hug the book; there is purpose here in how they have been cut, stitched and adhered to the original covers to repair what was likely to be gaping spines and detached boards. This was clearly a case of make do and mend, and thrift in conservation and collections care, C19th style.

Imagine my surprise when assessing the Heythrop material (2) at Campion Hall a few months later to discover examples of similar repairs, again in a Jesuit collection. Here there was less evidence, with only one item being found to have a glove repair. This had a somewhat less decorous and less charming thin textile spine covering it; that too had become damaged, and, peeping out, was the tell-tale seam of a glove. The cloth was ridged at the tail of the spine: clearly there were further glove seams lurking there too, giving rise to the fact that they were possibly spine linings rather than the full reback-style repairs to the books at the Bar Convent.

These discoveries have led to a bit of an obsession, and to the potential for their inclusion in a conference paper on binding repairs. The effective ‘upcycling’ of materials is both so archaic in a throw-away world, but also so current with the drive to reduce, reuse and recycle. It would be great to know if this is a common feature in Catholic collections, possibly specifically Jesuit collections, and whether this is something that was taught to the communities that cared for these collections, perhaps by an itinerant binding teacher or through word of mouth.

I would really welcome any information from CAS members on comparable items they may have discovered. Please do get in touch using the email below; I look forward to making links and connections between the collections you now care for.


(1) Email correspondence with Dr Nikolas Sarris

(2) The Heythorp material is a recent addition to the Campion Hall collection and is currently unavailable for research use.

Artefacts in Archives Series: Unlocking a door to the past – The Key to St Peter’s Church, Birmingham

By Naomi Johnson : Naomi is the curator archivist for the Catholic Archdiocese of Birmingham, maintaining the historic collections and buildings of the diocesan seminary, St Mary’s College Oscott and the archives of the Archdiocese, housed at St Chad’s Cathedral.

I often joke to visitor’s at St Mary’s College, Oscott, that the Pugin designed ceremonial keys in the cabinet are those which once graced the hands of St Peter; they are, after all, a spitting image of the keys that adorn every statue of St Peter and are incorporated into the papal crest. However, I can now claim to truly hold the key to St Peter’s! St Peter’s Church in Birmingham that is.

Whilst packing up the reading room at the Birmingham Archdiocesan Archives recently, in order to allow the decorators to give it a much needed facelift, I came upon a key that had fallen down the back of a cabinet. It was labelled, the key of St Peter’s; an unassuming brass key that could easily have been discarded, it represents a story of struggle, hope and ultimately destruction. It literally is the key to Birmingham’s catholic past.

The Key to St Peter’s Church, Birmingham

In the late 17th century, Birmingham Catholics (as elsewhere) suffered much from prejudice. Persecuted like all their brethren since Henry VIII had broken with Rome over 150 years before, they believed, however, that a period of tolerance would follow the accession to the throne of James II in 1685.  Emboldened, and under the guidance of Brother Leo (also known as Fr Randolph) of the Franciscan order, they built the first Catholic church in Birmingham since the Reformation.

A large group of Catholics and Protestants turned up to watch the laying of the first stone on March 23, 1687. Sadly, just 18 months later, the church of St Mary Magdalene was razed to the ground, its materials were taken for other buildings until nothing remained. The event is recorded at the time by Brother Leo: The church was first defaced and most of it burned within, to near the value of £400 by ye Lord Dellamere’s order, upon ye 2nd November 1688 and ye day sevenight following, ye rabble of Birmingham began to pull ye church down and seased not until they had pulled up the foundations

 All that now recalls the existence of the church is the name of Masshouse Lane.

Almost 100 years later, the local Catholic families tried once more to build a place of public worship. Led by another Franciscan, Father J Nutt, and by Dr Johnson and Mr Lewin, they raised £312 to buy land on the emerging area of Broad Street, an area that was still very much on the outskirts of the emerging city.  Upon this plot, the new chapel of St Peter’s was constructed. Yet Catholics had to remain wary of narrow minds, knowing that if the building looked too much like a church it might draw unwanted attention and so it was built to look like a factory.

Image from Postcard Series – BAA:PC/P2

Slowly the congregation grew and with financial support of more open minded Protestants, as well as Catholics, the chapel was extended. When Fr Nutt died in 1799, he must have been immensely proud all that had been achieved.

Twenty-five years later, the Franciscan’s gave up their care of St Peter’s and, according to the clear wishes of the congregation, Bishop John Milner (Vicar Apostolic 1803-1826) appointed Fr Thomas McDonnell as the first secular priest. McDonnell was a remarkable man who spent his life battling religious and class bigotry and was widely held in high esteem by all the people of Birmingham, regardless of their denomination (or none). He was the first Irish priest in Birmingham and a powerful speaker who challenged Protestant preachers on several occasions, who sought to stir up trouble.

A staunch supporter of Daniel O’Connell and the campaign for Catholic emancipation, McDonnell also fought to help the poor whatever their background and campaigned and backed the call for Parliamentary reform. He was so popular that in 1831, he became the only Roman Catholic on the council of the Birmingham Political Union – which a year later played a crucial role in achieving an extension of the vote nationally.

However, McDonnell’s forceful approach was not always appreciated by his superiors and in 1841 he was transferred to the south-west of England. Within three days of his departure, over 7000 people – many of whom were Protestants – had signed a petition asking for his return. It was not to happen. Nevertheless, his active and praiseworthy involvement in public life made things much easier for Catholic’s in general and paved the way for those who followed him; and his care and devotion to the Irish poor ensured that St Peter’s would always be seen as their church.

Under one of his successors, Canon Bernard Ivers, the chapel underwent much needed renovation work; originally planned as a total rebuild, the work finally was reduced to a reordering, expansion and redecoration project, including the addition of two gothic windows, a lady chapel and embellishment to the sanctuary. It was reopened on Saturday 8th July 1871 and Saint John Henry Newman preached the sermon from the text ‘Whatever you do, do for the glory of God’. Canon Ivers remained at St Peter’s from 1849 until his death in 1880; he built on the work Fr McDonnell and the church continued to draw in Irish immigrants and those who had come to the city to find work. It became fondly known as the Mother Church of Birmingham.

Images from Postcard Series – BAA:PC/P2

The next eighty years of the church’s history tell tales of mixed fortune, changing congregation sizes, fewer Irish Catholics -as they set up a community in Digbeth- and more Italian immigrants trying to start a new life. The construction of a catholic school and a burial ground all reflected the changing needs and diversity of the city. On 13th July 1933 the church was finally consecrated, having rid itself of debt and after installing a fixed altar, a gift of the Hardman family. Having fought religious bigotry, waning congregation numbers and financial ruin for one hundred and fifty years, it was a glorious day in the church’s history. A three-hour long mass and celebration recognising the past whilst looking to a future which seemed full of hope. Unfortunately, thirty six years later, the church was to close its doors for the last time as structural damage and local redevelopment left it to be a victim of chance and change once more.

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