MARBL

Piranesi's Campus Martius

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Emory’s MARBL has been collecting items for our ‘Views of Rome’ collection for over a decade, and we are pleased to announce the latest acquisition:

PIRANESI, Giovanni Batista. Campus Martius Antiquae Urbis. Rome, 1762. Elephant folio [53 x 41 cm]

Giovanni Piranesi (1720-1778) was an Italian etcher, engraver, designer, architect, archaeologist and theorist.  Emory’s copy is a first edition of Piranesi’s reconstruction of the Campus Martius, an important urban environment outside the walls of Rome. He based the work on 

• analysis of the surviving remains of the Campus Martius
• documents and inscriptions
• study of the fragmentary Severan Marble Plan of Rome.  

The reconstruction of the Campus Martius was, at the time, a subject of fierce controversy among Roman antiquarians.  And of course, in the Greco-Roman argument, Piranesi was always a fervent protagonist of Rome!

The contents of the work are well described by Martha Pollack in her entry for the Millard collection [Pollack, M, Washington, D.C.:1993, p. 312).

“The publication borrows from the two main interests of the author, the archaeological research and the polemical battles of the early 1760’s. His historical inquiry is here committed to supporting his view of the primacy of Roman builders.  [The] plan is one of Piranesi’s most feverish fantasies, marshaling a huge range of imaginary constructs for the celebration of ancient Rome. Within this plan he proposes an urban and architectural landscape of the utmost complexity. Piranesi achieves this tour de force through a great variety of illustrations and employs every means of representation at his disposal.”

A highlight of this work is one of Piranesi’s most ambitious cartographic efforts: a 6 sheet reconstruction of the Campus Martius measuring some 1.35 x 1.17 meters when assembled, and showing the influence of the 1748 Nolli plan on which Piranesi had collaborated.

The present copy is extra-illustrated with a rare entirely engraved broadsheet catalogue of Piranesi’s works up to the time of publication. Andrew Robison of the National Gallery has identified no less than 31 states from copies, of which the present is number 5, matching exactly a copy at the Art Institute of Chicago.

In addition, Piranesi dedicated this work to the Scottish architect Robert Adam (1754-98), who had been closely involved in its preparation during the later 1750s. Adam’s name features prominently on the title page where Piranesi also proudly flaunts his own membership of the Royal Society of London.  A medallion on the right of the large folding plate shows the two friends in profile.

For those interested in other items from Emory’s Views of Rome collection, please see the digital scholarship DiSC project based on Ligorio map of Ancient Rome.

MARBL thanks Emory's Michael C. Carlos Museum for their contribution to help acquire this important new addition to the Views of Rome collection.  Images courtesy of Seth Fagen from Martayan Lan Antique Maps and Rare Books.

$5 Bill from the Confederate States of America,
Confederate Miscellany Collection

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Many aspects of the Civil War which didn't necessarily occur directly in Atlanta or even in Georgia, had a direct impact on Atlanta's citizens. When the South seceded from the Union, it almost immediately fell into a financial crisis. Problems of inflation plagued the Confederacy throughout the war. There was not a great deal of control over or organization of currency production, with states, banks and even private companies issuing their own paper money as haphazardly as the federal government.

MARBL has a number of issues of Confederate currency in its collections in various denominations. In Atlanta, we can imagine that the citizens of the city were using both federal notes as well as those which were printed nearby in Milledgeville. Both of these issues, as well as those from banks and other states can be found in several collections in MARBL.

$500 Bill Issued by the Confederate State of Georgia,
Confederate Miscellany Collection

The south made a number of fatal mistakes when it came to its financial state, not the least of which was the creation of currency without funding to back it up. However, it was a strong Union blockade on Confederate exportation and Europe's declining reliance on Southern cotton that lessened the South's monetary intake. As well, Northerners were contributing to the currency problems by circulating counterfeit bills. The South did not have its own printing press for money, nor did it have the same level of engravers or quality of paper as the North. As a result, Confederate currency was highly susceptible to being duplicated fraudulently.

With the overabundance of currency printed, inflation was rampant in the Confederacy. Items, which immediately prior to the war would have been worth reasonable amounts, rose exponentially in price during the early 1860s. The value of a Confederate dollar declined steadily over the course of the war. In the summer of 1863, the worth of the dollar slipped to 8 cents and by the time of Lee's surrender, it was down to 1.5 cents. By 1865, Confederate money was considered worthless and was only kept as a war souvenir or play money. (Heidler & Heidler)

Confederate currency did not become a true collector's item until the centennial in the 1960s. After that, prices soared and today some of the more rare items are valued in the $10,000s, a far cry from its worth in 1865.

References:

Current, R.N. (Ed.). (1993). Encyclopedia of the Confederacy. New York: Simon and Schuster

Heidler, D.S., Heidler, J.T. (Eds.). (2000). Encyclopedia of the American
Civil War: a political, social and military history. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO

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Below is the essay, written by University Archivist Kate Donovan, from the current exhibit on the second floor of the Robert W. Woodruff library in honor of Banned Books Week. The exhibit features covers and titles pages of banned or challenged books accompanied by brief captions about the works by librarians, staff and graduate students of the library.

<Click to Enlarge>

Reading room in the Georgia State Archives in Morrow, GA,
image courtesy of the Georgia State Archives

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Late on the afternoon of September 13, Georgia Secretary of State Brian Kemp announced that on November 1 he would be eliminating all public access hours and several staff positions at the Georgia State Archives.  His decision was in response to a mandate from Governor Nathan Deal that all state agencies reduce their budgets by 3%.  The original press release from the Secretary of State promised that the Archives would remain open by appointment, but that those appointments would be limited based on the schedule of remaining staff.  On Friday, September 14, Kemp announced that seven of the ten current Archives employees would lose their jobs effective October 31.  This will leave the Archives with two professional archivists and one facilities manager on staff, and as a result the Georgia public can expect little to no access to its public record.

The Coalition to Save the Georgia Archives, which includes a number of organizations such as the Friends of Georgia Archives and History, the Society of American Archivists, the Association County Commissioners of Georgia, and the Georgia Historical Records Advisory Board, has launched an aggressive campaign to keep the Georgia State Archives open.  The State Archives has already been decimated by consistent budget cuts over the last several years.  At stake is not only access to these records for historical scholarship and family history research, but the civil rights of Georgia citizens and the transparency and effectiveness of the state government of Georgia.  Unfortunately, two archivists are not capable of offering an appointment schedule that will satisfy the legal mandate to make these records available to the public.  

Governor Deal has promised that the archives will remain open; however, he has yet to offer a detailed plan and has stated that he has no ability to overturn Secretary Kemp's decision.  If Kemp's decision stands, the Archives will suffer a loss of talent and reputation it will take years to recover.  Please stand up for the Archives and contact the Secretary of State's office and your local legislators.  They need to know that you support access to Georgia's public record.  You can find your legislators and their contact information at votesmart.org.

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Valentine's Day, 1989: the day when everything changed for Salman Rushdie. It was the day that Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran issued a fatwa ordering Rushdie's execution because of his novel The Satanic Verses, a book that many (despite never reading the novel itself) claimed was blasphemous to Islam. That spring, violent protests against the book broke out across the world, while Rushdie went into hiding under the protection of the British Royal Police. Eventually, the protests died down, but for Rushdie, that day marked the beginning of almost a decade of living in the shadows, worrying about the safety of his loved ones, and moving from place to place when a new threat appeared. Rushdie's newly released memoir tells the story of this decade in his life. The book title Joseph Anton: A Memoir, references the pseudonym he used while living in hiding, itself a literary reference to Joseph Conrad and Anton Chekov.

Rushdie's source material for his memoir was not only drawn from his memory; he researched his own archives which are held in MARBL. Emory's archives "actually allowed me to write the memoir," says Rushdie, speaking during a March 2, 2012 discussion in the Research Commons of the Robert W. Woodruff Library during his recent visit as University Distinguished Professor. When Emory acquired Rushdie's archive, it was a massive collection of cardboard boxes, the contents of which were filled with a chaotic jumble of drafts, grocery lists, letters, scribbles, newsclippings and computers. Simply put, it was "a complete mess," Rushdie admits. "There was no organization — 100 boxes of everything and I didn't even know what was there."

MARBL spent several years processing and organizing Rushdie's collection, which also made it possible for the celebrated author to tackle in-depth research for his memoir. As a researcher dedicated to preserving fact, Rushdie knows firsthand that relying upon memory alone has its dangers, making original documentation essential. While it might seem a bit odd to the average person—going to an archive library in order to research one's life—MARBL's intensive processing of the collection allowed Rushdie to access materials and details that might have otherwise been buried in his memory or hidden in the recesses of a computer hard drive. Rushdie's research process is also mirrored in the style of the memoir itself—calling his attempt to write a memoir in the first person "too narcissistic" he eventually decided to use the third-person and treat Joseph Anton, his pseudonymic self, as a character.

For more information on visiting MARBL to view the Salman Rushdie collection in our reading room, please go to our website or email marbl@emory.edu.

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Eamon Grennan was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1941. After receiving his B.A. and M.A. from University College in Dublin, Grennan moved to the United States to attend graduate school at Harvard University. He earned his Ph.D. in 1973 and began teaching at Vassar College the following year. Grennan continued to teach English at Vassar until his retirement in 2004. During his career, Grennan has published twelve volumes of collected poetry in addition to the large number of poems published in journals and magazines such as The New Yorker. Grennan has also been involved in editing volumes on Irish poetry and translating others' works.

MARBL staff are in the final stages of arranging and describing Grennan's personal papers, which include a bit of correspondence, manuscript and typescript drafts of his poetry, drafts of prose pieces and translations, notebooks, diaries and printed material. One of the most interesting things about the collection is the evidence of Grennan's writing process. Often with literary archives, evidence of a writer's process gets lost over time. However, Grennan's papers are unique in that his process is apparent in the numerous drafts present for each poem and each collection. Materials for most collected works include folders titled "Towards [work]," as well as other files that show his early efforts at crafting a collection. Many works also include multiple typescript drafts of the collection, some with up to four variant titles, indicating the amount of thought and care that Grennan puts into the writing of his work. Researchers using this collection will be able to track the work of the poet virtually from the birth of an idea through the final stages of the publishing process.

The collection also includes much evidence of Grennan's close ties to the literary community. Grennan not only wrote and published poetry but also wrote reviews of other poets' works. His strong relationship with his colleagues can be seen in the inscriptions of poems sent to him. Poets, including Paul Muldoon, Peter Fallon, Chuck O'Neil, and Dana Gioia, sent him copies of their work with kind words. His relationships with editors and other members of the literary community can also be seen in his correspondence, particularly in letters between Grennan and publisher Peter Fallon.

The papers will be re-opened to researchers early next week.

Correspondence from Imogene Hoyle to Amaryllis Bomar,
"Atlanta is very dull now.", June 30, 1863[?], Bomar Family Papers

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While MARBL holds a significant amount of letters to and from soldiers in the Civil War between families and friends, it is also important to note the epistolary conversations that happened between those who stayed at home. A collection of letters in the Bomar Family Papers here in MARBL is a peek inside life for young women during a war that came so close to home.

Amaryllis Bomar was the daughter of Dr. Benjamin F. and Sarah E. Lumpkin Hayne Bomar. Dr. Bomar settled his family in Atlanta when Amaryllis was very young. Upon arriving in Atlanta, Bomar ceased practicing medicine and opened up a general store on Whitehall Street. He was elected a member of the first Atlanta City Council in 1848 and became the city's second mayor in 1849. He also started the Atlanta Intelligencer, one of the city's earliest newspapers. 

Amaryllis was a teenager during the Civil War, and most of the letters in the Bomar Family Papers are addressed to her. Some of the most interesting, which tell of life as a young woman in Atlanta, come from her friend Imogene Hoyle. The Hoyles were another prominent family in the city at this time. Both families refugeed to towns outside of Atlanta during 1864 and some of the letters document this period. 

You can really see the difference a year makes when you view letters from the summer of 1863 alongside those from the fall of 1864. Imogene writes in June, 1863 that "Atlanta is very dull now." She also mentions a young man who "inquired very particularly about [Amaryllis]." This letter is lively and light and talks about the goings on in the city and how "there's plenty of gossip going around."

The mood changes significantly, however, by letters from the summer and fall of 1864. In a letter dated June 28, 1864, Imogene talks about the family's difficult flight from Atlanta. "I had a hard time getting out of Atlanta and had almost come to the conclusion that the Yankees would get me in spite of every thing." Her family ended up refugeeing in Sandersville, GA and a number of her following letters are sent from there. 

There are definite pangs of homesickness in the letters, most significantly in one from November 16, 1864 when Imogene writes, while discussing a newly acquired piano, "Our favorite song is 'Take Me Back to Atlanta' and when I strike that, every one in the place joins in, both black and white. Ama, what do you think!" She also talks about teaching someone to play the piano, most specifially "'Dixie' for the troops to march home by, when peace is declared."

The letters continue on into 1865 as the girls exchange news about wounded soldiers and where their loved ones have been stationed. They continue, though, to retain a somewhat lighthearted air as love interests and gossip are discussed as well. 

Though the collection of letters is small (there are only ten written by Imogene to Amaryllis) they span a significant time period for Atlanta. Their importance, as well, is in the fascinating way they offer a glance inside life for young women in the South during the incredible upheaval of the Civil War.