The Red that Created a Revolution

In 1868, a German laboratory synthesized a color that changed the course of the Industrial Revolution.

Friedrich Bayer & Co. Dye Label. 1865. From the Edelstein Collection in the National Library of Israel

The year 2018 marks the 150th anniversary of the first synthesis in a laboratory of a complex, naturally occurring organic chemical product. This was the important red dye known as alizarin, obtained from the root of the madder plant. The madder red, second in importance only to indigo blue, had been used as a versatile dye for hundreds of years and is best known for its application in production of the famous Turkey red cloth. By clever application of the agents used to fix the dye to cloth, various shades and hues could be achieved from the same dye.

Eduard Lauber, Praktisches Handbuch des Zeugdrucks, Moscow, 1887. From the Sidney Edelstein Collection, the National Library of Israel

The chemical synthesis of alizarin was achieved in early 1868 by Carl Graebe and Carl Liebermann (a relative of the artist Max Liebermann), who were research assistants of the chemist Adolf Baeyer. The significance of this achievement lay in the tremendous industrial importance of the natural dye, which was often applied using high-speed printing machines that colored millions of yards of cloth. As an outcome of the synthesis, alizarin was manufactured on vast scales in Britain and Germany, which in a flash, almost wiped out much of the cultivation and trade in the natural dye. This success was the main stimulus for the emergence of the synthetic dye industry, which transformed coal tar waste into alizarin and a myriad of other colored textile dyes. The early dyes were based on the chemical known as aniline, which gave its name to the industry.

Carl Theodore Liebermann, 1868

Theodore Herzl was so impressed that, in 1896, he was inspired to write a short story, ‘The Aniline Inn’, in which, just like the transformation, or processing, of waste tar into ‘beautiful radiant colors’, the oppressed Jewish peoples could turn their despair into highly colorful achievement. This ‘refuse of human society’ was then waiting to be processed and given purpose in the Jewish State.

The synthesis of alizarin stimulated scientific studies into the chemical constitutions and molecular structures of both natural products such as alizarin and indigo, and others without analogous colors in nature. In 1868, only a partial structure could be drawn for alizarin. Six years later, the modern structure of alizarin was published by Adolf Baeyer and the industrial chemist Heinrich Caro at BASF, a chemical company based in Ludwigshafen.

This advance drew on, and in many ways reinforced, the acceptance of Kekulé’s famous six membered benzene ring of 1865. It also led to scientific studies into all novel colorants, such that within a few years it was possible to create color by design. This was a high point of the second industrial revolution, based on chemical industry and electricity. Synthetic dyes represented the very first high-tech science-based industry.

Badische Anilin & Soda Fabrik, Anilinfarben auf Halbwolle, Ludwigshafen, 1910. From the Sidney Edelstein Collection, the National Library of Israel

By the close of the 19th century, Germany practically dominated the industry of making synthetic dyes. This success relied on the opening of dedicated research laboratories, and collaborations between industry and technical institutes. In 1897, two German firms, BASF and Hoechst, commenced the manufacture of synthetic indigo, which within a few years displaced the blue natural product imported into Europe from India.

This revolution in the production of textile dyes, which began with synthetic alizarin, and its implications for global industries and economies, as well as for progress in science and technology, is recorded in the magnificent collection of books, pamphlets, recipes and archival documents gathered together by Sidney M. Edelstein. Today these documents are held with the Sidney M. Edelstein Library for the History and Philosophy of Science, Technology and Medicine at the National Library of Israel.




Rare and Illustrated Islamic Manuscripts

Come view select items from the National Library of Israel’s Islamic manuscript collection.

Layla and Majnūn, by the master Persian mystical poet, Nizāmī Ganjavī (d. 1209). The epic poem relates the tragic story of a young poet driven crazy (Ar., majnūn) by his forbidden love for Layla. Iranian ms from 1602.

In honor of Ramadan, the Library is holding an exhibition of rare and beautiful Islamic manuscripts, dating from the 10th through the 18th centuries.

Among the unique items exhibited is a miniature Qur’an from the 10th century; mystical poetry written in Jerusalem in 1362; a royal manuscript from the library of the Ottoman Sultan, commissioned by Hatice Sultan (1766-1821); a liturgical poem called “The Great Armor”, which is traditionally recited by Shi’ite Muslims during Ramadan; magnificently illustrated Persian poetry from the 17th century and much more.

Founded in 1924, the NLI’s Arabic and Islamic collection is the largest collection in Israel and one of the most important research collections in the Middle East.

The exhibition is open free to the public during the Library’s opening hours (9:00 – 19:00) until June 14th.

Exhibition curator: Dr. Raquel Ukeles.

During the month of Ramadan, Muslims traditionally read the Qur’an in 30 daily sections. Shown here is the final page of the 29th section of a 12th century Andalusian Qur’an, likely written in Seville.
The Celestial Lights in Praise of the Best of Creation, also known as “Poem of the Mantle,” by the Egyptian Sufi poet, Muhammad al-Buṣīrī (d. 1295). Shown here is the manuscript copied by the famous lexicographer, Muhammad al-Fairūzabādī during his time of study in Jerusalem prior to 1362.
Opening pages of a Qur’an that was copied in 1289, most likely in Baghdad. The text was written in Naskh script, and the design shows Chinese influences.
Layla and Majnūn, by the master Persian mystical poet, Nizāmī Ganjavī (d. 1209). The epic poem relates the tragic story of a young poet driven crazy (Ar., majnūn) by his forbidden love for Layla. Iranian ms from 1602.

Rare Photos: The Persian Princess Visits the Jewish Fashion Designers

This photo collection of Iran of the 1950s and 1960s shows the story of a world lost in history.

צילום: הארכיון המרכזי לתולדות העם היהודי

These pictures are from the global headquarters of ORT in Geneva, an organization founded in 1888 and focused on professional and vocational training in Jewish communities worldwide. The organization worked in the former Soviet Union, Germany, France, and many other European counties, not to mention, of course, their work in schools in Tehran, Shiraz, and other cities in Iran.

In this collection of photographs found in the NLI’s Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People, some of which are published here for the first time, there are dozens of pictures of Jewish teenage girls learning to sew and studying to join the world of fashion design in Iran.

These young fashion designers learned the basics of sewing, measuring, and pattern making, but the school also boasted a curriculum of the history of fashion, as well as other creative workshops.

The prestige bestowed upon the Jews of Iran at that time is clear when you consider who came to see the final projects of this fashion design school. Among the many politicians and VIPs were the wife and daughter of the Persian Shah.




The Search for Sella Podbielski’s Books

How the National Library of Israel contributes to book provenance research.

I came to the National Library in December, 2017 in search of Sella’s books. Sella Podbielski née Weiss was born in Gostyn in Poland in 1888 and was most likely murdered in Auschwitz. Her books – if they still exist – would be the only surviving items from her possessions.

One of her two sons, the writer Gerhard René Podbielski, left Poland in January 1939 and I have been working for his son since 2015, exploring the family’s tabooed fate.

My autopsy work place in the reading room on 19 December 2017. Photo: Marc Jarzebowski

Sella’s books first came to my attention during an online search in a tangle of digitized microfilms from the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) in Washington. They were recorded in the Offenbach Archival Depot (OAD), established in early 1946 by the Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives section of the American military government to collect books, manuscripts and archival materials that had been looted, confiscated or taken by the German army under the Nazi government.

In 1947, the organization, Jewish Cultural Reconstruction Inc. (JCR), was founded to deal with the restitution procedure of Jewish property and heirlooms following the Holocaust. Its executive secretary from 1949 to 1952 was the political theorist Hannah Arendt. When the Offenbach Depot was cleared in June 1949, the remaining items from the more than three million volumes which had been handled there, most of which had already been restituted, were transferred to the Central Collecting Point (CCP) Wiesbaden. In Oct 1949 a list of books received from Offenbach was compiled, containing about 45000 books previously owned by private Jewish owners identifiable by signatures, stamps or ex-libris. According to this list, three of the books contained Sella’s signature.

I realized that I was searching for a needle in a haystack as the lists from Offenbach and Wiesbaden named the previous owners of the books but listed no book titles. But it was too early for me to give up. I found out in the NARA microfilms that about 12,000 books from this list were packed in cases and mostly sent to New York and Jerusalem in 1950. I realized that JCR provenances have not been recorded in the library catalogs, even more so the names of the previous owners. My correspondences with library staff showed that not much institutional knowledge of the processes of book distributions in the 1950s has remained.

I was fortunate that Daniel Lipson of Israel National Library was also interested in the books from the JCR and in their stories. He put much effort into responding to my request and he created an excel list with thousands of books, which the National Library had received from the JCR in the 1950s.

It is a reconstruction and – as Lipson puts it – definitely not complete and far from being accurate. But it was something to work with and I decided to work by taking random samples. I chose 40 books written by authors read and appreciated by Sella’s son – this was the only possible lead I had – and requested them into the reading room for an autopsy.

Jewish Cultural Reconstruction (JCR) label

Some of them still had the JCR label from Wiesbaden, but in other cases it has fallen off or has been lost during re-binding.

I found stamps, from institutions like the Jewish communities of Dresden and Frankfurt upon Main or the Königsberg Zionist Association, but also of Nazi institutions which had formed libraries mainly from looted books. I also found signatures, and some of such private owner marks can be directly connected to the 1949 list.

Just to give one example: The library’s third copy of Arnold Zweig’s Novellen um Claudia contains the following handwritten entry: Else Ehrlich, Hildesheim, Juli 1921 v. L. Meyerhof (Else Ehrlich, a resident of the city of Hildesheim, has received this book from L. Meyerhof in July 1921).

Signature of Else Ehrlich, Hildesheim in Arnold Zweig’s “Novellen um Claudia”

 

Else Hildesheim entry in 1949 Wiesbaden list

The Wiesbaden source does not contain the name Else Ehrlich, but lists one book from the possession of a Hildesheim Ehrlich. Evidently the person in charge could not decipher Else or simply forgot to include the given name in the list and put Hildesheim into the column for the given name instead of the place column.

As much research is being done on the victims of the Nazi terror, it took me only five minutes and a few clicks to find out about the deportation of Else Ehrlich from Hildesheim in April 1942 into Warsaw Ghetto. Her date and place of death are unknown, but this one book – and maybe more – has survived and we can hold it physically in our hands.

Book provenance research is – in the shadow of art provenance research – still quite a young discipline, but many public libraries in Germany have started to check their stocks for looted items and to document their previous owners, for example in the cooperative looted cultural assets database, with six – so far – participating institutions such as the Free University Berlin Library.

I did not find Sella’s books. But I found books from the possession of people who shared her fate. And with the help of Daniel Lipson I found a way to regain knowledge which had been lost over the decades in the shut library stacks. Ten matches out of the 40 books I have checked and compared with the 1949 list is a promising quota, but it is only just the start.