Exploring the Peabody Library’s hidden gems
All of the books at the Peabody are considered special collections – but some are more special than others. We check out the upstairs levels and the rare book collection – usually off-limits to visitors.
- January 2, 1973 photo of the Peabody Institute Library. (William H. Mortimer/Baltimore Sun)
- A woman reads at the Peabody Institute Library in 1965. (Hutchins/ Baltimore Sun)
- The upstairs levels of the Peabody Library are typically off-limits to inquisitive visitors, but the main reading room welcomes tourists, students and the occasional bride and groom posing for wedding pictures. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s primary collection includes books from 1700 up to around the 1940s. Some books on the sixth floor cover quasi-spiritual topics like voodoo, witchcraft and life after death. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s primary collection includes books from 1700 up to around the 1940s. Some books on the sixth floor cover quasi-spiritual topics like voodoo, witchcraft and life after death. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- One of the oldest printed books in the collection, this religious manuscript from 1489 still has the original chain that would have connected it to a monastery desk in Europe. “You would come in and you could open it up and you could take a look at it,” says curator Paul Espinosa, “But it was chained to the desk because they didn’t want it to go missing.” Since the Peabody Library first opened, all of the books in the collection have been non-circulating, available for reference only. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- One of the oldest printed books in the collection, this religious manuscript from 1489 still has the original chain that would have connected it to a monastery desk in Europe. “You would come in and you could open it up and you could take a look at it,” says curator Paul Espinosa, “But it was chained to the desk because they didn’t want it to go missing.” Since the Peabody Library first opened, all of the books in the collection have been non-circulating, available for reference only. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- A zootrope was a precursor to modern animation, and allowed viewers to watch horses “galloping.” The piece was acquired under Espinosa’s guidance, to complement the Library’s existing holdings. “The collection does not remain static,” he says. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- A 19th-century print in the rare books collection shows horses galloping; prior to photography, it was unknown whether all four of a horse’s hooves were ever simultaneously in the air. The photographs proved there was such a moment. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- Poster of a gigantic mastodon displayed at the Baltimore Museum, or Peale Museum near City Hall. The mastodon was discovered in a mud pit in New York and brought to Baltimore, where it dazzled audiences. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- Drawing of a gigantic mastodon displayed at the Baltimore Museum, or Peale Museum near City Hall. The mastodon was discovered in a mud pit in New York and brought to Baltimore, where it dazzled audiences. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- “This is really where science kind of takes shape as we understand it – not based on tradition or books or superstition – this is science based on actual direct observation,” Espinosa says of Micrographia, a book by Robert Hooke is a 1665 that includes drawings of insects viewed through a microscope. The book includes directions for readers to make their own microscope. The names written on the first page of the book reveal Chapin A Harris, the first dean of the University of Maryland’s Dental School, owned the book in 1859. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- One of the oldest books in the collection is an antiphonary, or music text from around the 1420s. It would be used as part of the Latin Mass; its large size enabled a group of monks could read it all at once. The antiphonary would have required a small herd of calves to produce enough vellum. “It’s all on calfskin and all done by hand,” says Espinoza. “One monk would have drawn all the lines, another one would have put in all the letters. But we tend to forget in our very fast-paced world that even the act of creating this – the concentration and the meditation and the dedication to create it — was itself an act of prayer, an act of worship.” (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The rare book collection includes a substantial number of works related to divisions between Catholics and Protestant worhsipers. This pamphlet entitled “The miracle of the exorcism of Luther,” was originally printed in the 1640s. A paper flap lifts up on the skirt of his wife, pictured left, to reveal a devil passing gas in Martin Luther’s direction. “It’s as hold as the hills,” Espinosa says.
- This 1548 book shows figures of death – with skeletons seen tormenting bishops and farmers alike. It’s just one example of the memento mori tradition, which is meant to remind medieval readers: death comes for us all. “Sometimes we lament that we weren’t born 100 years earlier or 100 years later,” says Espinosa, alluding to the drawings. “But when all is said and done we’re pretty lucky.” (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s collection reflects the priorities and interests of patrons in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. “It provides kind of a snapshot in time to what they thought was important,” says curator Paul Espinosa. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s collection reflects the priorities and interests of patrons in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. “It provides kind of a snapshot in time to what they thought was important,” says curator Paul Espinosa. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The upstairs levels of the Peabody Library are typically off-limits to inquisitive visitors, but the main reading room welcomes tourists, students and the occasional bride and groom posing for wedding pictures. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The upstairs levels of the Peabody Library are typically off-limits to inquisitive visitors, but the main reading room welcomes tourists, students and the occasional bride and groom posing for wedding pictures. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s collection reflects the priorities and interests of patrons in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. “It provides kind of a snapshot in time to what they thought was important,” says curator Paul Espinosa. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s primary collection includes books from 1700 up to the 1940s and 1950s. Some books on the sixth floor cover quasi-spiritual topics like voodoo, witchcraft and life after death. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s primary collection includes books from 1700 up to the 1940s and 1950s. Some books on the sixth floor cover quasi-spiritual topics like voodoo, witchcraft and life after death. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- The Peabody Library’s collection reflects the priorities and interests of patrons in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. “It provides kind of a snapshot in time to what they thought was important,” says curator Paul Espinosa. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- “The collection does not remain static,” Espinosa says. Along with other librarians and curators at Johns Hopkins, Espinosa works with book dealers to add to the holdings. “We’re always looking for Don Quixote, we’re always looking for material that was printed here in Baltimore.” Books on odd topics like mesmerism are also a priority. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- “The collection does not remain static,” Espinosa says. Along with other librarians and curators at Johns Hopkins, Espinosa works with book dealers to add to the holdings. “We’re always looking for Don Quixote, we’re always looking for material that was printed here in Baltimore.” Books on odd topics like mesmerism are also a priority. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
- “The collection does not remain static,” Espinosa says. Along with other librarians and curators at Johns Hopkins, Espinosa works with book dealers to add to the holdings. “We’re always looking for Don Quixote, we’re always looking for material that was printed here in Baltimore.” Books on odd topics like mesmerism are also a priority. (Christina Tkacik/Baltimore Sun)
Walking through the upper floors of the Peabody Library is a bit like stepping into the psyche of the Baltimorean during the city’s golden age. Sure, there are the normal books you’d expect to find in a library that opened in 1878: books on antiquity, religion, and foreign countries. Old issues of Harper’s, first editions of Moby Dick and books by Edgar Allan Poe.
But then there’s the weird stuff. The books on madness, witchcraft and the evils of prostitution. There are guides to phrenology – a quack science that said the shape of someone’s skull determined their moral character, and mesmerism – which proclaimed to allow others to control people’s thoughts.
“It’s all informing the literature and the science of that time period,” says the Peabody’s curator, Paul Espinosa. Though most of these ideas – phrenology, for one – have long since been debunked, he says, “It provides kind of a snapshot in time to what they thought was important.”
They’re all reminders of the institution philanthropist George Peabody envisioned when he commissioned the library be built in the 19th century, hiring librarians to travel to the most impressive libraries in America in search of what a proper library should have.
“Their principles were that they were buying important books – sort of top of the line scholarly books, not penny dreadfuls and run of the mill fashion magazines, but books that would be ‘beneficial to the moral and intellectual culture of the inhabitants of Baltimore’ is what they literally said.”
The books were never meant to circulate (they never did and never will) – but to be readily available. “The easiest way to lose a book is to lend it out,” Espinosa says. “It doesn’t sound very democratic not to lend out books, but it was prescient at the time.”
Other libraries later stepped in as lending libraries notably when Enoch Pratt, who was on the original board of trustees at the Peabody, opened his library in 1882. Most of the patrons were likely to be scholars and students, particularly those affiliated with Johns Hopkins, which had been located next door.
It was important to George Peabody that his library be open to the public without charge – a mission that the library fulfills today. “Even though we’re part of Johns Hopkins today, anybody can come in and use the collection,” Espinosa says.
The inner sanctum of the library is the rare books room, housing any book printed before 1700. These include a music book from the 1400s hand-printed on cow’s hide – the print large enough to be read by monks standing at a distance. There are satirical cartoons lampooning Martin Luther, drawings of microscopic views of insects from the 1600s. One gem includes a book of figures of death – with skeletons seen tormenting bishops and farmers. It’s just one example of the memento mori tradition, which is meant to remind readers: death comes for us all.
“Sometimes we lament that we weren’t born 100 years earlier or 100 years later,” says Espinosa, alluding to the drawings. “But when all is said and done we’re pretty lucky.” For one thing, there’s no more bubonic plague.
Sadly for George Peabody, death came to him nine years before the library ever opened, and he never saw it complete.
Correction: An earlier version of this story misspelled the name of Edgar Allan Poe.