Reading Rare Books Online

For many researchers today (whether academic or simply curious), one of the greatest benefits of recent technological progress is the ability to conduct archival research at home, in your pajamas, or at two in the morning. (Or, all three at the same time.) For readers with access, electronic databases including Early English Books Online (EEBO) offer thousands of early and rare printed materials that can be downloaded to a home computer, printed out, consulted in a PDF reader, or marked electronically. I recently read Robert Tofte’s poetry collection Laura (London: 1597) on my iPad, for instance.

The EEBO database consists of thousands of early titles originally published between 1475 and 1700 (the periods covered in the short-title catalogs of Pollard & Redgrave and Wing), which were formatted onto microfilm in the 1930s by the University of Michigan and have since been digitized. After a centuries-long journey through manuscript, print, microfilm, and digital media, the text images are sometimes poor in quality and therefore hard to read. Below is an example of the kind of “show-through” you can find in an EEBO document (this is taken from the 1644 edition of John Milton’s The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce:

Milton, EEBO Text

Despite these occasional exigencies, EEBO is ultimately an invaluable resource, and it continues to grow. Beginning in 1999, a collaborative effort between ProQuest LLC, the University of Michigan, and Oxford University known as the TCP (Text Creation Partnership) began to key the full texts of first-editions in order to make them searchable by keyword. Now in its second phase, the TCP seeks to bring its total to 70,000 titles and includes the collaboration of over 150 libraries. I’ve had the pleasure to hear Martin Mueller speak recently on EEBO, and I share his enthusiasm for a project that certainly has its “noise,” but that probably promises more good than ill. In fact, it opens up a new generation of scholars to the textual and editorial practice that has been mostly taken for granted in the academy for decades. It does matter what editions we read.

And yet. We must temper our enthusiasm, for although EEBO is an invaluable resource, it does not and will not replace archival research. At least, not yet. There are physical aspects of rare books that cannot be fully conveyed through these digitized microfilm copies, such as watermarks, physical dimensions, and bindings, each of which offer important clues about the production, consumption, and circulation of a given book. Additionally, EEBO images (often from copies in the British Library and the Huntington Library) represent a very small sample of the surviving copies of a given publication. Far from being identical, copies of early books often have very subtle differences in terms of press variants and error corrections. Fortunately, scholars and librarians are becoming increasingly aware of the value of retaining “duplicate” copies of early books in the effort to digitize them. Claire Stewart recently pointed me toward this HathiTrust duplicates report, which acknowledges the value of “duplicates” for scholars in certain fields (see p. 6). It’s my belief that the effort to digitize our cultural heritage will lead us back toward the material, the physical, and the artifact, and I’m thinking more about this after reading Bethany Nowviskie’s MLA 2013 paper, published just yesterday.

EEBO is not alone in its home-delivery of rare books to readers and researchers. Other projects including GoogleBooks, HathiTrust, and the Internet Archive contain millions of printed books from earlier eras, and in some cases allow readers to download the whole artifact. I want to use the rest of my time here to show some of the potential and limitations of the Internet Archive, however, mainly in order to call attention to some of its unusual features. Here is what you find when you search for John Milton’s The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce: a copy of the 1645 pirated edition held by the Boston Public Library. I came across this in November while researching Milton’s pamphlets:

Milton, Internet Archive
The Internet Archive allows you to do with this book some of the same things you can do in EEBO. For instance, you can page through the artifact in its entirety; you can download it to your computer; you can peruse the ASCII text (although EEBO’s TCP project currently only has available first-edition keyed texts, so this one would not be there). However, this online archive allows you to do some different things as well that come slightly closer to the archival visit. For instance, the images of the artifact appear in color, as opposed to black-and-white (although you have the choice to download the PDF here in color or in black-and-white). The resolution of the images is not excellent. There is, however, a two-page layout and a page-turning animation effect that you can opt for, which I have found found for modern texts in iBooks, but less commonly among early modern digital archives. You can also “play” the book as a slideshow and watch the pages turn rhythmically, one after another. It’s a bit mesmerizing. I admit I’m not sure how useful it is to be able to “play” and “pause” a book like this, though. Below is an image of the “page-turn,” although you have to see it in action to really get the full effect.

Milton, Internet Archive (page turn)
The final aspect of this interface I’ll consider here is perhaps among the most promising, but the least successful. If you press the sound button in the top-right corner, you can hear a simulated, female voice read the text. This could be a useful feature, but the OCR delivery of the text is confused by the typography of this early modern book, and systematically garbles the “long s” into an “f” sound. There are other problems with it as well. Olin Bjork and John Rumrich have recently collaborated on a Paradise Lost audiotext, and their work suggests that the visual and the aural can indeed work together productively in a hypertextual archive site. The Internet Archive’s current “iffues” suggest that we still have many years and hard work ahead of us, but we should not sacrifice the effort on account of the “noise” we will inevitably encounter.

John Milton and “Pamphlet Pandemonium”

This post will digest some of my recent archival research into a story about one of the foremost canonical authors in the English tradition and his entanglements with an untrustworthy category of Renaissance printed matter – the pamphlet.

Pamphlets, now and then. As the Oxford English Dictionary begins to tell us, “pamphlet” encompasses a variety of meanings. I think we most commonly encounter pamphlets today at information desks or doctors’ offices – they are small, brief, and often ephemeral textual materials that relate information on a specific topic (Arthritis, for instance). “Book” is usually another matter. Few would categorize an intentionally literary publication like a novel, hard-bound and for sale in a Barnes and Noble, as a pamphlet (except, perhaps, for the sake of ridicule). In short, we have in our minds a very comfortable distinction today between “book” and “pamphlet.”

However, for John Milton and his seventeenth-century contemporaries, this distinction was less stable. Beginning in the 1640s, England saw an unprecedented increase in the number of titles published, which means that printers were not necessarily working more diligently, but that they had uncovered and had begun to exploit a market for short publications. These square-shaped, quarto “pamphlets” were usually less than 96 pages long, but often much shorter, and they were very affordable, costing no more than a few pennies. In addition, pamphlets were also often associated with sensational subject matter including monstrous births, terrifying weather, or gruesome murders. (Think of the tabloids at your local supermarket – cheap and often trashy.) For Renaissance readers, the term “pamphlet” could thus refer to the physical characteristics of a publication, its number of pages, the nature of its contents, its genre, its price, or a combination of these things. As a term, it was quite flexible.

The outpouring or “explosion” of printed pamphlets in the 1640s resulted from a number of factors, including the official disbandment of the Star Chamber, the governmental office responsible for licensing and registering printed matter. Joad Raymond has written extensively about these pamphlets, and has spent much time in the archive studying their material characteristics. According to Raymond,

Oral dialogues echoed with the innovative accents of novel pamphlets, with imperative and ever-fresher news and criticism, and the presses creaked and the bookstalls groaned under the weight of pamphlets and short, pointed books. (204)

This might be an exaggeration, but it describes what was truly a substantial change in the culture of communication technology. Large, studied, and ambitious books in folio became less of a priority as an unprecedented volume of news and criticism in quarto flew off the press and towards an increasingly literate English audience. It seemed to promise a “public sphere” of communication characterized by disagreement and discussion, rather than the established and hierarchical structures of the University or the Church.

Pamphlets and problems. If these pamphlets promised a communicative democracy in print to some, they represented the threat of uninformed and hacked-together noise to others. John Minsheu, a scholar who exhausted nearly all his money and savings in publishing a massive, eleven-language dictionary, defined the pamphlet as “a fool’s diminutive performance.” John Taylor, known today as one of the most frivolous hack-poets in Renaissance England, comically drew a connection between a pamphlet and . . .

Taylor, 'Whore and Pamphlet'

Clearly, Taylor wanted no one to miss his joke. He is hardly being serious, satirically capitalizing on the prevalent anxiety among authors about the circulation of once-held-private writings among an anonymous or “impersonal” public. Pamphlets often were deemed just as foolish as they were promiscuous. This “pamphlet pandemonium” was discussed recently in a talk by Newberry Library President David Spadafora.

So . . . all very interesting. But where does John Milton, the famous poet known and studied mainly because of Paradise Lost, fit into this story?

Milton, divorce, and pamphlets. Decades before the Christian epic saw print, Milton became deeply entangled in the controversial pamphlet culture of the 1640s. First writing against the authority of the English bishops in five quarto publications, Milton turned in 1643 to the subjects of marriage and divorce, a project that would occupy him for two years. Scholars once speculated that Milton’s unhappy marriage to the royalist Mary Powell sparked some of his interest in this issue, a supposition that has been contested and since reconsidered. In any case, within this short period of time, Milton collaborated with his printers Thomas Paine and Matthew Simmons to issue a succession of publications on the topic. By 1645, there were seven circulating in London:

1) The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce. 1st ed. London: T. P. & M. S., 1643.
2) The Doctrine and Discpline of Divorce. 2nd ed. London: [Thomas Paine & Matthew Simmons], 1644. (A transcribed edition is available in Thomas Luxon’s Milton Reading Room.)
3) The Judgement of Martin Bucer. London: Matthew Simmons, 1644.
4) Tetrachordon. London: [Thomas Paine & Matthew Simmons], 1645.
5) Colasterion. London: [Matthew Simmons], 1645.
6) The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce. 3rd ed. London: [Thomas Paine & Matthew Simmons, 1645.
7) The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce. 4th ed. London: counterfeit copy, 1645.

The Newberry Library holds all but one of these publications (#6), and so I was able to get an adequate feel for the material artifacts as they most likely appeared to their first readers in London (of course, taking into account some important changes made to them since by collectors and curators). The first edition and the second edition appear side-by-side below, and one can immediately notice some distinct differences in the typographic delivery, including but not limited to the extended title, the presence or absence of author’s and printers’ initials, Scriptural verses, etc. You can click on the image to study some of the differences on your own, as I have; interestingly, the substantial differences between the two editions remained mostly invisible to scholars before the 1950s (that’s more than 400 years!).

Milton, 2 eds. of D&D

As these title pages begin to indicate, The Doctrine and Discipline attempts to establish continuity between Mosaic Law (which allows divorce) and the doctrine of Christian Charity as articulated by St. Paul. It’s a tricky bit of Scriptural interpretation; Milton’s ultimate goal is to overturn the English prohibition of divorce according to the outdated “bondage of Canon Law.” He claims that the suffering one endures in an unhappy marriage need not be borne with, especially if it drives Man and God apart (more than a few scholars have recognized the pamphlet’s masculinist leanings).

Milton thus saw his divorce pamphlets as a serious effort to further the mission of the Reformation, and although he never referred to these or any of his other publications as “pamphlets,” the integrity of his argument was compromised in part because of the material conditions of their production and dissemination. Milton invited his readers to seek “a friendly conference with the author, who would be glad and thankfull to be shewn an error, either by privat dispute, or public answer” (Bucer, B2v). However, the public responded not with “friendly conference,” but rather with bitter judgement and scorn. No one referred to his divorce pamphlets as “whores” sincerely or in jest, but Milton was criticized from the pulpit and in print as a “libertine” who advocated “divorce at pleasure.” In fact, an anonymous pamphleteer penned An Answer to a Book, Intituled, The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce (1644), a vituperative response to the first edition of Milton’s initial divorce argument. For many Englishmen, Milton’s arguments differed only marginally from the other quarto pamphlets on sensational topics or heretical controversies. And physically, as they appeared in the marketplace, they were almost identical.

The multiple market presence of Milton’s argument on divorce evinces his attempts to defend his project from the promiscuous reputation of the printed pamphlet, although it simultaneously increased its circulation and exchange within the same market. The argument in the second edition is greatly enlarged and subdivided into two books and multiple chapters; it thus loses much of the personal or anecdotal quality of the first pamphlet and grows into a more scholastic and exegetical project, distancing itself from the ephemeral pamphlet trade. In The Judgement of Martin Bucer, a translation and adaptation of a sixteenth-century book that confirms his claims, Milton associated his pamphlets with an authoritative Reformation scholar. In Tetrachordon, Milton composed his most substantial divorce publication of all; because of its bulk, it surpasses the physical category of the pamphlet altogether. On the other hand, Milton engaged his attacker’s Answer head-on in Colasterion with a brief and rather snobbish argument that co-opts the chaotic and impassioned language of the pamphlet trade to defeat his opponent on his own terms. Milton’s engagement with the pamphlet exchange of the 1640s left him forlorn and misunderstood, and scholars believe that his turn to more serious poetry in 1645 owed something to these problematic experiences in Renaissance print culture.

Back to the future. Although this dispute about the early modern pamphlet, its circulation, and the threats it posed to authority took place nearly four hundred years ago, we live today in an era characterized by reconfigurations of the same debate. Pamphleteering then, blogging now, and the historian Robert Darnton has commented on some of these connections already. According to pundits, journalists, and academics alike, the U.S. presidential election of 2012 witnessed an unprecedented volume of commentary in the seemingly ever-widening digital sphere. Newspapers, radio broadcasts, and televisions programs were hardly the only sites of political debate. The burgeoning infrastructure of independent blogs and websites, as well as the circulation of articles and videos through social media platforms including but not limited to Facebook and Twitter, enabled Americans from any geographical, socio-economic, or political background to register their opinions and respond to those of others. While these channels of opinion and commentary promised a more democratic exchange of ideas to some, they posed the problem of uninformed noise to others, not entirely unlike the printed pamphlets that John Milton and his contemporaries used for their polemical projects during the Renaissance.

So, in my publishing these words online and your reading them here, we take our places in yet another stage in the historical definition of the public sphere and its relationship to technologies of communication.


The images in this post come from John Taylor’s All the vvorkes of Iohn Taylor the water-poet (London, 1630), STC 23725 [Bodleian], and from John Milton’s The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce (London, 1643), Wing M2108 [British Library] and The Doctrine & Discipline of Divorce (London, 1644), Wing M2109 [British Library]. The images are used here in accordance with the fair use policy included in the ProQuest/EEBO licensing agreement. For future posts I will seek permission to include archival materials from research libraries like the Newberry to provide a richer story.

To further satisfy your curiosity on Milton, pamphlets, and the print marketplace, see:

Darnton, Robert. “Blogging, Now and Then.” History Weekend Lecture. Raleigh, NC. 18 February 2012.

Dobranski, Stephen. Milton, Authorship, and the Book Trade. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999.

Halasz, Alexandra. The Marketplace of Print: Pamphlets and the Public Sphere in Early Modern England. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1997.

Raymond, Joad. Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern Britain. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003.

Parker, William R. Milton’s Contemporary Reputation. Columbus: Ohio State UP, 1940.

Zaret, David. Origins of Democratic Culture: Printing, Petitions, and the Public Sphere in Early-Modern England. Princeton: Princeton UP, 2000.