CHAPTER III._Bibliomania in the Middle Ages

_Scriptoria and the Scribes.--Care in copying.--Bible reading

among the monks.--Booksellers in the middle ages.--Circulating

libraries.--Calligraphic art, etc._

As the monasteries were the schools of learning, so their occupants were

the preservers of literature, and, as Herault observes, had they not

taken the trouble to transcribe books, the ancients had been lost to us

for ever; to them, therefore, we owe much. But there are many, however,

who suppose that the monastic establishments were hotbeds of superstition

and fanaticism, from whence nothing of a useful or elevated nature could

possibly emanate. They are too apt to suppose that the human intellect

must be altogether weak and impotent when confined within such narrow

limits; but truth and knowledge can exist even in the dark cells of a

gloomy cloister, and inspire the soul with a fire that can shed a light

far beyond its narrow precincts. Indeed, I scarce know whether to

regret, as some appear to do, that the literature and learning of those

rude times was preserved and fostered by the Christian church; it is

said, that their strict devotion and religious zeal prompted them to

disregard all things but a knowledge of those divine, but such is not the

case; at least, I have not found it so; it is true, as churchmen, they

were principally devoted to the study of divine and ecclesiastical lore;

but it is also certain that in that capacity they gradually infused the

mild spirit of their Master among the darkened society over which they

presided, and among whom they shone as beacons of light in a dreary

desert. But the church did more than this. She preserved to posterity the

profane learnings of Old Greece and Rome; copied it, multiplied it, and

spread it. She recorded to after generations in plain, simple language,

the ecclesiastical and civil events of the past, for it is from the terse

chronicles of the monkish churchmen that we learn now the history of what

happened then. Much as we may dislike the monastic system, the cold,

heartless, gloomy ascetic atmosphere of the cloister, and much as we may

deplore the mental dissipation of man's best attributes, which the system

of those old monks engendered, we must exercise a cool and impartial

judgment, and remember that what now would be intolerable and monstrously

inconsistent with our present state of intellectuality, might at some

remote period, in the ages of darkness and comparative barbarism, have

had its virtues and beneficial influences. As for myself, it would be

difficult to convince me, with all those fine relics of their deeds

before me, those beauteous fanes dedicated to piety and God, those

libraries so crowded with their vellum tomes, so gorgeously adorned, and

the abundant evidence which history bears to their known charity and

hospitable love, that these monks and their system was a scheme of dismal

barbarism; it may be so, but my reading has taught me different; but, on

the other hand, although the monks possessed many excellent qualities,

being the encouragers of literature, the preservers of books, and

promulgators of civilization, we must not hide their numerous and

palpable faults, or overlook the poison which their system of monachism

_ultimately_ infused into the very vitals of society. In the early

centuries, before the absurdities of Romanism were introduced, the

influence of the monastic orders was highly beneficial to our Saxon

ancestors, but in after ages the Church of England was degraded by the

influence of the fast growing abominations of Popedom. She drank

copiously of the deadly potion, and became the blighted and ghostly

shadow of her former self. Forgetting the humility of her divine Lord,

she sought rather to imitate the worldly splendor and arrogance of her

Sovereign Pontiff. The evils too obviously existed to be overlooked; but

it is not my place to further expose them; a more pleasing duty guides my

pen; others have done all this, lashing them painfully for their oft-told

sins. Frail humanity glories in chastizing the frailty of brother man.

But we will not denounce them here, for did not the day of retribution

come? And was not justice satisfied? Having made these few preliminary

remarks, let us, in a brief manner, inquire into the system observed in

the cloisters by the monks for the preservation and transcription of

manuscripts. Let us peep into the quiet cells of those old monks, and see

whether history warrants the unqualified contempt which their efforts in

this department have met with.

In most monasteries there were two kinds of Scriptoria, or writing

offices; for in addition to the large and general apartment used for the

transcription of church books and manuscripts for the library, there were

also several smaller ones occupied by the superiors and the more learned

members of the community, as closets for private devotion and study. Thus

we read, that in the Cistercian orders there were places set apart for

the transcription of books called Scriptoria, or cells assigned to the

scribes, "separate from each other," where the books might be transcribed

in the strictest silence, according to the holy rules of their

founders.[40] These little cells were usually situated in the most

retired part of the monastery, and were probably incapable of

accommodating more than one or two persons;[41] dull and comfortless

places, no doubt, yet they were deemed great luxuries, and the use of

them only granted to such as became distinguished for their piety, or

erudition. We read that when David went to the Isle of Wight, to

Paulinus, to receive his education, he used to sup in the Refectory, but

had a Scriptorium, or study, in his cell, being a famous scribe.[42] The

aged monks, who often lived in these little offices, separate from the

rest of the scribes, were not expected to work so arduously as the rest.

Their employment was comparatively easy; nor were they compelled to work

so long as those in the cloister.[43] There is a curious passage in

Tangmar's Life of St. Bernward, which would lead us to suspect that

private individuals possessed Scriptoria; for, says he, there are

Scriptoria, not only in the monasteries, but in other places, in which

are conceived books equal to the divine works of the philosophers.[44]

The Scriptorium of the monastery in which the general business of a

literary nature was transacted, was an apartment far more extensive and

commodious, fitted up with forms and desks methodically arranged, so as

to contain conveniently a great number of copyists. In some of the

monasteries and cathedrals, they had long ranges of seats one after

another, at which were seated the scribes, one well versed in the subject

on which the book treated, recited from the copy whilst they wrote; so

that, on a word being given out by him, it was copied by all.[45] The

multiplication of manuscripts, under such a system as this, must have

been immense; but they did not always make books, _fecit libros_, as

they called it, in this wholesale manner, but each monk diligently

labored at the transcription of a separate work.

The amount of labor carried on in the Scriptorium, of course, in many

cases depended upon the revenues of the abbey, and the disposition of the

abbot; but this was not always the case, as in some monasteries they

undertook the transcription of books as a matter of commerce, and added

broad lands to their house by the industry of their pens. But the

Scriptorium was frequently supported by resources solely applicable to

its use. Laymen, who had a taste for literature, or who entertained an

esteem for it in others, often at their death bequeathed estates for the

support of the monastic Scriptoria. Robert, one of the Norman leaders,

gave two parts of the tythes of Hatfield, and the tythes of Redburn, for

the support of the Scriptorium of St. Alban's.[46] The one belonging to

the monastery of St. Edmundsbury was endowed with two mills,[47] and in

the church of Ely there is a charter of Bishof Nigellus, granting to the

Scriptorium of the monastery the tythes of Wythessey and Impitor, two

parts of the tythes of the Lordship of Pampesward, with 2s. 2d., and a

messuage in Ely _ad faciendos et emandandos libros_.[48]

The abbot superintended the management of the Scriptorium, and decided

upon the hours for their labor, during which time they were ordered to

work with unremitting diligence, "not leaving to go and wander in

idleness," but to attend solely to the business of transcribing. To

prevent detraction or interruption, no one was allowed to enter except

the abbot, the prior, the sub-prior, and the armarian,[49] as the latter

took charge of all the materials and implements used by the transcribers,

it was his duty to prepare and give them out when required; he made the

ink and cut the parchment ready for use. He was strictly enjoined,

however, to exercise the greatest economy in supplying these precious

materials, and not to give more copies "nec artavos, nec cultellos, nec

scarpellæ, nec membranes," than was actually necessary, or than he had

computed as sufficient for the work; and what the armarian gave them the

monks were to receive without contradiction or contention.[50]

The utmost silence prevailed in the Scriptorium; rules were framed, and

written admonitions hung on the walls, to enforce the greatest care and

diligence in copying exactly from the originals. In Alcuin's works we

find one of these preserved; it is a piece inscribed "_Ad Musæum libros

scribentium_;" the lines are as follows:

"Hic sideant sacræ scribentes famina legis,

Nec non sanctorum dicta sacrata Patrum,

Hæc interserere caveant sua frivola verbis,

Frivola nec propter erret et ipsa manus:

Correctosque sibi quærant studiose libellos,

Tramite quo recto penna volantis eat.

Per cola distinquant proprios, et commata sensus,

Et punctos ponant ordine quosque suo.

Ne vel falsa legat, taceat vel forte repente,

Ante pios fratres, lector in Ecclesia.

Est opus egregium sacros jam scribete libros,

Nec mercede sua scriptor et ipse caret.

Fodere quam vites, melius est scribere libros,

Ille suo ventri serviet, iste animæ.

Vel nova, vel vetera poterit proferre magister

Plurima, quisque legit dicta sacrata Patrum."[51]

Other means were resorted to besides these to preserve the text of their

books immaculate, it was a common practice for the scribe at the end of

his copy, to adjure all who transcribed from it to use the greatest care,

and to refrain from the least alteration of word or sense. Authors more

especially followed this course, thus at the end of some we find such

injunctions as this.

"I adjure you who shall transcribe this book, by our Lord Jesus Christ

and by his glorious coming, who will come to judge the quick and the

dead, that you compare what you transcribe and diligently correct it by

the copy from which you transcribe it--this adjuration also--and insert

it in your copy."[52]

The Consuetudines Canonicorum, before referred to, also particularly

impressed this upon the monks, and directed that all the brothers who

were engaged as scribes, were not to alter any writing, although in their

own mind they might think it proper, without first receiving the sanction

of the abbot, "_on no account were they to commit so great a

presumption_."[53] But notwithstanding that the scribes were thus

enjoined to use the utmost care in copying books, doubtless an occasional

error crept in, which many causes might have produced, such as bad light,

haste, a little drowsiness, imperfect sight, or even a flickering lamp

was sufficient to produce some trivial error; but in works of importance

the smallest error is of consequence, as some future scribe puzzled by

the blunder, might, in an attempt to correct, still more augment the

imperfection; to guard against this, with respect to the Scriptures, the

most critical care was enforced. Monks advanced in age were alone allowed

to transcribe them, and after their completion they were

read--revised--and reread again, and it is by that means that so uniform

a reading has been preserved, and although slight differences may here

and there occur, there are no books which have traversed through the

shadows of the dark ages, that preserve their original text so pure and

uncorrupt as the copies of the Scriptures, the fathers of the church, and

the ancient writings of the classic authors; sometimes, it is true, a

manuscript of the last order is discovered possessing a very different

reading in some particular passage; but these appear rather as futile

emendations or interpolations of the scribe than as the result of a

downright blunder, and are easily perceivable, for when the monkish

churchmen tampered with ancient copies, it generally originated in a

desire to smooth over the indecencies of the heathen authors, and so

render them less liable to corrupt the holy contemplations of the

devotee; and while we blame the pious fraud, we cannot but respect the

motive that dictated it.

But as regards the Scriptures, we talk of the carelessness of the monks

and the interpolations of the scribes as if these were faults peculiar to

the monastic ages alone; alas! the history of Biblical transmission tells

us differently, the gross perversions, omissions, and errors wrought in

the holy text, proclaim how prevalent these same faults have been in the

ages of _printed literature_, and which appear more palpable by being

produced amidst deep scholars, and surrounded with all the critical

acumen of a learned age. Five or six thousand of these gross blunders, or

these wilful mutilations, protest the unpleasant fact, and show how much

of human grossness it has acquired, and how besmeared with corruption

those sacred pages have become in passing through the hands of man, and

the "revisings" of sectarian minds. I am tempted to illustrate this by an

anecdote related by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange of Hunstanton, and preserved

in a MS. in the Harlein collection.--"Dr. Usher, Bish. of Armath, being

to preach at Paules Crosse and passing hastily by one of the stationers,

called for a Bible, and had a little one of the London edition given him

out, but when he came to looke for his text, that very verse was omitted

in the print: which gave the first occasion of complaint to the king of

the insufferable negligence, and insufficience of the London printers and

presse, and bredde that great contest that followed, betwixt the univers.

of Cambridge and London stationers, about printing of the Bibles."[54]

Gross and numerous indeed were the errors of the corrupt bible text of

that age, and far exceeding even the blunders of monkish pens, and

certainly much less excusable, for in those times they seldom had a large

collection of codices to compare, so that by studying their various

readings, they could arrive at a more certain and authentic version. The

paucity of the sacred volume, if it rendered their pens more liable to

err, served to enforce upon them the necessity of still greater scrutiny.

On looking over a monastic catalogue, the first volume that I search for

is the Bible; and, I feel far more disappointment if I find it not there,

than I do at the absence of Horace or Ovid--there is something so

desolate in the idea of a Christian priest without the Book of Life--of a

minister of God without the fountain of truth--that however favorably we

may be prone to regard them, a thought will arise that the absence of

this sacred book may perhaps be referred to the indolence of the monkish

pen, or to the laxity of priestly piety. But such I am glad to say was

not often the case; the Bible it is true was an expensive book, but can

scarcely be regarded as a rare one; the monastery was indeed poor that

had it not, and when once obtained the monks took care to speedily

transcribe it. Sometimes they only possessed detached portions, but when

this was the case they generally borrowed of some neighboring and more

fortunate monastery, the missing parts to transcribe, and so complete

their own copies. But all this did not make the Bible less loved among

them, or less anxiously and ardently studied, they devoted their days,

and the long hours of the night, to the perusal of those pages of

inspired truth,[55] and it is a calumny without a shadow of foundation to

declare that the monks were careless of scripture reading; it is true

they did not apply that vigor of thought, and unrestrained reflection

upon it which mark the labors of the more modern student, nor did they

often venture to interpret the hidden meaning of the holy mysteries by

the powers of their own mind, but were guided in this important matter by

the works of the fathers. But hence arose a circumstance which gave full

exercise to their mental powers and compelled the monk in spite of his

timidity to think a little for himself. Unfortunately the fathers,

venerable and venerated as they were, after all were but men, with many

of the frailties and all the fallabilities of poor human nature; the pope

might canonize them, and the priesthood bow submissively to their

spiritual guidance, still they remained for all that but mortals of dust

and clay, and their bulky tomes yet retain the swarthiness of the tomb

about them, the withering impress of humanity. Such being the case we,

who do not regard them quite so infallible, feel no surprise at a

circumstance which sorely perplexed the monks of old, they unchained and

unclasped their cumbrous "Works of the Fathers," and pored over those

massy expositions with increasing wonder; surrounded by these holy

guides, these fathers of infallibility, they were like strangers in a

foreign land, did they follow this holy saint they seemed about to

forsake the spiritual direction of one having equal claims to their

obedience and respect; alas! for poor old weak tradition, those

fabrications of man's faulty reason were found, with all their orthodoxy,

to clash woefully in scriptural interpretation. Here was a dilemma for

the monkish student! whose vow of obedience to patristical guidance was

thus sorely perplexed; he read and re-read, analyzed passage after

passage, interpreted word after word; and yet, poor man, his laborious

study was fruitless and unprofitable! What bible student can refrain from

sympathizing with him amidst these torturing doubts and this crowd of

contradiction, but after all we cannot regret this, for we owe to it more

than my feeble pen can write, so immeasurable have been the fruits of

this little unheeded circumstance. It gave birth to many a bright

independent declaration, involving pure lines of scripture

interpretation, which appear in the darkness of those times like fixed

stars before us; to this, in Saxon days, we are indebted for the labors

of Ælfric and his anti-Roman doctrines, whose soul also sympathized with

a later age by translating portions of the Bible into the vulgar tongue,

thus making it accessible to all classes of the people. To this we are

indebted for all the good that resulted from those various heterodoxies

and heresies, which sometimes disturbed the church during the dark ages;

but which wrought much ultimate good by compelling the thoughts of men to

dwell on these important matters. Indeed, to the instability of the

fathers, as a sure guide, we may trace the origin of all those efforts of

the human mind, which cleared the way for the Reformation, and relieved

man from the shackles of these spiritual guides of the monks.

But there were many cloistered Christians who studied the bible

undisturbed by these shadows and doubts, and who, heedless of patristical

lore and saintly wisdom, devoured the spiritual food in its pure and

uncontaminating simplicity--such students, humble, patient, devoted, will

be found crowding the monastic annals, and yielding good evidence of the

same by the holy tenor of their sinless lives, their Christian charity

and love.

But while so many obtained the good title of an "_Amator Scripturarum_,"

as the bible student was called in those monkish days, I do not pretend

to say that the Bible was a common book among them, or that every monk

possessed one--far different indeed was the case--a copy of the Old and

New Testament often supplied the wants of an entire monastery, and in

others, as I have said before, only some detached portions were to be

found in their libraries. Sometimes they were more plentiful, and the

monastery could boast of two or three copies, besides a few separate

portions, and occasionally I have met with instances where besides

several _Biblia Optima_, they enjoyed Hebrew codices and translations,

with numerous copies of the gospels. We must not forget, however, that

the transcription of a Bible was a work of time, and required the outlay

of much industry and wealth. "Brother Tedynton," a monk of Ely, commenced

a Bible in 1396, and was several years before he completed it. The

magnitude of the undertaking can scarcely be imagined by those

unpractised in the art of copying, but when the monk saw the long labor

of his pen before him, and looked upon the well bound strong clasped

volumes, with their clean vellum folios and fine illuminations, he seemed

well repaid for his years of toil and tedious labor, and felt a glow of

pious pleasure as he contemplated his happy acquisition, and the comfort

and solace which he should hereafter derive from its holy pages! We are

not surprised then, that a Bible in those days should be esteemed so

valuable, and capable of realizing a considerable sum. The monk,

independent of its spiritual value, regarded it as a great possession,

worthy of being bestowed at his death, with all the solemnity of a

testamentary process, and of being gratefully acknowledged by the fervent

prayers of the monkish brethren. Kings and nobles offered it as an

appropriate and generous gift, and bishops were deemed benefactors to

their church by adding it to the library. On its covers were written

earnest exhortations to the Bible student, admonishing the greatest care

in its use, and leveling anathemas and excommunications upon any one who

should dare to purloin it. For its greater security it was frequently

chained to a reading desk, and if a duplicate copy was lent to a

neighboring monastery they required a large deposit, or a formal bond

for its safe return.[56] These facts, while they show its value, also

prove how highly it was esteemed among them, and how much the monks loved

the Book of Life.

But how different is the picture now--how opposite all this appears to

the aspect of bible propagation in our own time. Thanks to the

printing-press, to bible societies, and to the benevolence of God, we

cannot enter the humblest cottage of the poorest peasant without

observing the Scriptures on his little shelf--not always read, it is

true--nor always held in veneration as in the old days before us--its

very plentitude and cheapness takes off its attraction to irreligious and

indifferent readers, but to poor and needy Christians what words can

express the fulness of the blessing. Yet while we thank God for this

great boon, let us refrain from casting uncharitable reflections upon the

monks for its comparative paucity among them. If its possession was not

so easily acquired, they were nevertheless true lovers of the Bible, and

preserved and multiplied it in dark and troublous times.

Our remarks have hitherto applied to the monastic scribes alone; but it

is necessary here to speak of the secular copyists, who were an important

class during the middle ages, and supplied the functions of the

bibliopole of the ancients. But the transcribing trade numbered three or

four distinct branches. There were the Librarii Antiquarii, Notarii, and

the Illuminators--occasionally these professions were all united in

one--where perseverance or talent had acquired a knowledge of these

various arts. There appears to have been considerable competition between

these contending bodies. The notarii were jealous of the librarii, and

the librarii in their turn were envious of the antiquarii, who devoted

their ingenuity to the transcription and repairing of old books

especially, rewriting such parts as were defective or erased, and

restoring the dilapidations of the binding. Being learned in old writings

they corrected and revised the copies of ancient codices; of this class

we find mention as far back as the time of Cassiodorus and Isidore.[57]

"They deprived," says Astle, "the poor librarii, or common scriptores, of

great part of their business, so that they found it difficult to gain a

subsistence for themselves and their families. This put them about

finding out more expeditious methods of transcribing books. They formed

the letters smaller, and made use of more conjugations and abbreviations

than had been usual. They proceeded in this manner till the letters

became exceedingly small and extremely difficult to be read."[58] The

fact of there existing a class of men, whose fixed employment or

profession was solely confined to the transcription of ancient writings

and to the repairing of tattered copies, in contradistinction to the

common scribes, and depending entirely upon the exercise of their art as

a means of obtaining a subsistence, leads us to the conclusion that

ancient manuscripts were by no means so very scarce in those days; for

how absurd and useless it would have been for men to qualify themselves

for transcribing these antiquated and venerable codices, if there had

been no probability of obtaining them to transcribe. The fact too of its

becoming the subject of so much competition proves how great was the

demand for their labor.[59]

We are unable, with any positive result, to discover the exact origin of

the secular scribes, though their existence may probably be referred to a

very remote period. The monks seem to have monopolized for some ages the

"_Commercium Librorum_,"[60] and sold and bartered copies to a

considerable extent among each other. We may with some reasonable

grounds, however, conjecture that the profession was flourishing in Saxon

times; for we find several eminent names in the seventh and eighth

centuries who, in their epistolary correspondence, beg their friends to

procure transcripts for them. Benedict, Bishop of Wearmouth, purchased

most of his book treasures at Rome, which was even at that early period

probably a famous mart for such luxuries, as he appears to have journeyed

there for that express purpose. Some of the books which he collected were

presents from his foreign friends; but most of them, as Bede tells us,

were _bought_ by himself, or in accordance with his instructions, by his

friends.[61] Boniface, the Saxon missionary, continually writes for books

to his associates in all parts of Europe. At a subsequent period the

extent and importance of the profession grew amazingly; and in Italy its

followers were particularly numerous in the tenth century, as we learn

from the letters of Gerbert, afterwards Silvester II., who constantly

writes, with the cravings of a bibliomaniac, to his friends for books,

and begs them to get the scribes, who, he adds, in one of his letters,

may be found in all parts of Italy,[62] both in town and in the country,

to make transcripts of certain books for him, and he promises to

reimburse his correspondent all that he expends for the same.

These public scribes derived their principal employment from the monks

and the lawyers; from the former in transcribing their manuscripts, and

by the latter in drawing up their legal instruments. They carried on

their avocation at their own homes like other artisans; but sometimes

when employed by the monks executed their transcripts within the

cloister, where they were boarded, lodged, and received their wages till

their work was done. This was especially the case when some great book

was to be copied, of rarity and price; thus we read of Paulinus, of St.

Albans, sending into distant parts to obtain proficient workmen, who were

paid so much per diem for their labor; their wages were generously

supplied by the Lord of Redburn.[63]

The increase of knowledge and the foundation of the universities gave

birth to the booksellers. Their occupation as a distinct trade originated

at a period coeval with the foundation of these public seminaries,

although the first mention that I am aware of is made by Peter of Blois,

about the year 1170. I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter of

this celebrated scholar, but I may be excused for giving the anecdote

here, as it is so applicable to my subject. It appears, then, that whilst

remaining in Paris to transact some important matter for the King of

England, he entered the shop of "a public dealer in books"--for be it

known that the archdeacon was always on the search, and seldom missed an

opportunity of adding to his library--the bookseller, Peter tells us,

offered him a tempting collection on Jurisprudence; but although his

knowledge of such matters was so great that he did not require them for

his own use, he thought they might be serviceable to his nephew, and

after bargaining a little about the price he counted down the money

agreed upon and left the stall; but no sooner was his back turned than

the Provost of Sexeburgh came in to look over the literary stores of the

stationer, and his eye meeting the recently sold volume, he became

inspired with a wish to possess it; nor could he, on hearing it was

bought and paid for by another, suppress his anxiety to obtain the

treasure; but, offering more money, actually took the volume away by

force. As may be supposed, Archdeacon Peter was sorely annoyed at this

behavior; and "To his dearest companion and friend Master Arnold of

Blois, Peter of Blois Archdeacon of Bath sent greeting," a long and

learned letter, displaying his great knowledge of civil law, and

maintaining the illegality of the provost's conduct.[64] The casual way

in which this is mentioned make it evident that the "_publico mangone

Librorum_" was no unusual personage in those days, but belonged to a

common and recognized profession.

The vast number of students who, by the foundation of universities, were

congregated together, generated of course a proportionate demand for

books, which necessity or luxury prompted them eagerly to purchase: but

there were poor as well as rich students educated in these great

seminaries of learning, whose pecuniary means debarred them from the

acquisition of such costly luxuries; and for this and other cogent

reasons the universities deemed it advantageous, and perhaps expedient,

to frame a code of laws and regulations to provide alike for the literary

wants of all classes and degrees. To effect this they obtained royal

sanction to take the trade entirely under their protection, and

eventually monopolized a sole legislative power over the _Librarii_.

In the college of Navarre a great quantity of ancient documents are

preserved, many of which relate to this curious subject. They were

deposited there by M. Jean Aubert in 1623, accompanied by an inventory of

them, divided into four parts by the first four letters of the alphabet.

In the fourth, under D. 18, there is a chapter entitled "Des Libraires

Appretiateurs, Jurez et Enlumineurs," which contains much interesting

matter relating to the early history of bookselling.[65] These ancient

statutes, collected and printed by the University in the year 1652,[66]

made at various times, and ranging between the years 1275 and 1403, give

us a clear insight into the matter.

The nature of a bookseller's business in those days required no ordinary

capacity, and no shallow store of critical acumen; the purchasing of

manuscripts, the work of transcription, the careful revisal, the

preparation of materials, the tasteful illuminations, and the process of

binding, were each employments requiring some talent and discrimination,

and we are not surprised, therefore, that the avocation of a dealer and

fabricator of these treasures should be highly regarded, and dignified

into a profession, whose followers were invested with all the privileges,

freedoms and exemptions, which the masters and students of the university

enjoyed.[67] But it required these conciliations to render the

restrictive and somewhat severe measures, which she imposed on the

bookselling trade, to be received with any degree of favor or submission.

For whilst the University of Paris, by whom these statutes were framed,

encouraged and elevated the profession of the librarii, she required, on

the other hand, a guarantee of their wealth and mental capacity, to

maintain and to appreciate these important concessions; the bookseller

was expected indeed to be well versed in all branches of science, and to

be thoroughly imbued with a knowledge of those subjects and works of

which he undertook to produce transcripts.[68] She moreover required of

him testimonials to his good character, and efficient security, ratified

by a solemn oath of allegiance,[69] and a promise to observe and submit

to all the present and future laws and regulations of the university. In

some cases, it appears that she restricted the number of librarii, though

this fell into disuse as the wants of the students increased. Twenty-four

seems to have been the original number,[70] which is sufficiently great

to lead to the conclusion that bookselling was a flourishing trade in

those old days. By the statutes of the university, the bookseller was

not allowed to expose his transcripts for sale, without first submitting

them to the inspection of certain officers appointed by the university,

and if an error was discovered, the copies were ordered to be burnt or a

fine levied on them, proportionate to their inaccuracy. Harsh and

stringent as this may appear at first sight, we shall modify our opinion,

on recollecting that the student was in a great degree dependent upon the

care of the transcribers for the fidelity of his copies, which rendered a

rule of this nature almost indispensable; nor should we forget the great

service it bestowed in maintaining the primitive accuracy of ancient

writers, and in transmitting them to us through those ages in their

original purity.[71]

In these times of free trade and unrestrained commercial policy, we shall

regard less favorably a regulation which they enforced at Paris,

depriving the bookseller of the power of fixing a price upon his own

goods. Four booksellers were appointed and sworn in to superintend this

department, and when a new transcript was finished, it was brought by the

bookseller, and they discussed its merits and fixed its value, which

formed the amount the bookseller was compelled to ask for it; if he

demanded of his customer a larger sum, it was deemed a fraudulent

imposition, and punishable as such. Moreover, as an advantage to the

students, the bookseller was expected to make a considerable reduction in

his profits in supplying them with books; by one of the laws of the

university, his profit on each volume was confined to four deniers to

student, and six deniers to a common purchaser. The librarii were still

further restricted in the economy of their trade, by a rule which forbade

any one of them to dispose of his entire stock of books without the

consent of the university; but this, I suspect, implied the disposal of

the stock and trade together, and was intended to intimate that the

introduction of the purchaser would not be allowed, without the

cognizance and sanction of the university.[72] Nor was the bookseller

able to purchase books without her consent, lest they should be of an

immoral or heretical tendency; and they were absolutely forbidden to buy

any of the students, without the permission of the rector.

But restricted as they thus were, the book merchants nevertheless grew

opulent, and transacted an important and extensive trade; sometimes they

purchased parts and sometimes they had whole libraries to sell.[73] Their

dealings were conducted with unusual care, and when a volume of peculiar

rarity or interest was to be sold, a deed of conveyance was drawn up with

legal precision, in the presence of authorized witnesses.

In those days of high prices and book scarcity, the poor student was

sorely impeded in his progress; to provide against these disadvantages,

they framed a law in 1342, at Paris, compelling all public booksellers to

keep books to lend out on hire. The reader will be surprised at the idea

of a circulating library in the middle ages! but there can be no doubt

of the fact, they were established at Paris, Toulouse, Vienna, and

Bologne. These public librarians, too, were obliged to write out regular

catalogues of their books and hang them up in their shops, with the

prices affixed, so that the student might know beforehand what he had to

pay for reading them. I am tempted to give a few extracts from these

lists:

St. Gregory's Commentaries upon Job, for reading 100 pages, 8 sous.

St. Gregory's Book of Homilies, 28 pages for 12 deniers.

Isidore's De Summa bona, 24 pages, 12 deniers.

Anselm's De Veritate de Libertate Arbitrii, 40 pages, 2 sous.

Peter Lombard's Book of Sentences, 3 sous.

Scholastic History, 3 sous.

Augustine's Confessions, 21 pages, 4 deniers.

Gloss on Matthew, by brother Thomas Aquinas, 57 pages, 3 sous.

Bible Concordance, 9 sous.

Bible, 10 sous.[74]

This rate of charge was also fixed by the university, and the students

borrowing these books were privileged to transcribe them if they chose;

if any of them proved imperfect or faulty, they were denounced by the

university, and a fine imposed upon the bookseller who had lent out the

volume.

This potent influence exercised by the universities over booksellers

became, in time, much abused, and in addition to these commercial

restraints, they assumed a still less warrantable power over the

original productions of authors; and became virtually the public censors

of books, and had the power of burning or prohibiting any work of

questionable orthodoxy. In the time of Henry the Second, a book was

published by being read over for two or three successive days, before one

of the universities, and if they approved of its doctrines and bestowed

upon it their approbation, it was allowed to be copied extensively for

sale.

Stringent as the university rules were, as regards the bookselling trade,

they were, nevertheless, sometimes disregarded or infringed; some

ventured to take more for a book than the sum allowed, and, by

prevarication and secret contracts, eluded the vigilance of the laws.[75]

Some were still bolder, and openly practised the art of a scribe and the

profession of a bookseller, without knowledge or sanction of the

university. This gave rise to much jealousy, and in the University of

Oxford, in the year 1373, they made a decree forbidding any person

exposing books for sale without her licence.[76]

Now, considering all these usages of early bookselling, their numbers,

their opulence, and above all, the circulating libraries which the

librarii established, can we still retain the opinion that books were so

inaccessible in those ante-printing days, when we know that for a few

sous the booklover could obtain good and authenticated copies to peruse,

or transcribe? It may be advanced that these facts solely relate to

universities, and were intended merely to insure a supply of the

necessary books in constant requisition by the students, but such was not

the case; the librarii were essentially public _Librorum Venditores_, and

were glad to dispose of their goods to any who could pay for them.

Indeed, the early bibliomaniacs usually flocked to these book marts to

rummage over the stalls, and to collect their choice volumes. Richard de

Bury obtained many in this way, both at Paris and at Rome.

Of the exact pecuniary value of books during the middle ages, we have no

means of judging. The few instances that have accidentally been recorded

are totally inadequate to enable us to form an opinion. The extravagant

estimate given by some as to the value of books in those days is merely

conjectural, as it necessarily must be, when we remember that the price

was guided by the accuracy of the transcription, the splendor of the

binding, which was often gorgeous to excess, and by the beauty and

richness of the illuminations.[77] Many of the manuscripts of the middle

ages are magnificent in the extreme. Sometimes they inscribed the gospels

and the venerated writings of the fathers with liquid gold, on parchment

of the richest purple,[78] and adorned its brilliant pages with

illuminations of exquisite workmanship.

The first specimens we have of an attempt to embellish manuscripts are

Egyptian. It was a common practice among them at first to color the

initial letter of each chapter or division of their work, and afterwards

to introduce objects of various kinds into the body of the manuscript.

The splendor of the ancient calligraphical productions of Greece,[79] and

the still later ones of Rome, bear repeated testimony that the practice

of this art had spread during the sixth century, if not earlier, to these

powerful empires. England was not tardy in embracing this elegant art. We

have many relics of remote antiquity and exquisite workmanship existing

now, which prove the talent and assiduity of our early Saxon forefathers.

In Ireland the illuminating art was profusely practised at a period as

early as the commencement of the seventh century, and in the eighth we

find it holding forth eminent claims to our respect by the beauty of

their workmanship, and the chastity of their designs. Those well versed

in the study of these ancient manuscripts have been enabled, by extensive

but minute observation, to point out their different characteristics in

various ages, and even to decide upon the school in which a particular

manuscript was produced.

These illuminations, which render the early manuscripts of the monkish

ages so attractive, generally exemplify the rude ideas and tastes of the

time. In perspective they are wofully deficient, and manifest but little

idea of the picturesque or sublime; but here and there we find quite a

gem of art, and, it must be owned, we are seldom tired by monotony of

coloring, or paucity of invention. A study of these parchment

illustrations afford considerable instruction. Not only do they indicate

the state of the pictorial art in the middle ages, but also give us a

comprehensive insight into the scriptural ideas entertained in those

times; and the bible student may learn much from pondering on these

glittering pages; to the historical student, and to the lover of

antiquities, they offer a verdant field of research, and he may obtain in

this way many a glimpse of the manners and customs of those old times

which the pages of the monkish chroniclers have failed to record.

But all this prodigal decoration greatly enhanced the price of books, and

enabled them to produce a sum, which now to us sounds enormously

extravagant. Moreover, it is supposed that the scarcity of parchment

limited the number of books materially, and prevented their increase to

any extent; but I am prone to doubt this assertion, for my own

observations do not help to prove it. Mr. Hallam says, that in

consequence of this, "an unfortunate practice gained ground of erasing a

manuscript in order to substitute another on the same skin. This

occasioned, probably, the loss of many ancient authors who have made way

for the legends of saints, or other ecclesiastical rubbish."[80] But we

may reasonably question this opinion, when we consider the value of books

in the middle ages, and with what esteem the monks regarded, in spite of

all their paganism, those "heathen dogs" of the ancient world. A doubt

has often forced itself upon my mind when turning over the "crackling

leaves" of many ancient MSS., whether the peculiarity mentioned by

Montfaucon, and described as parchment from which former writing had been

erased, may not be owing, in many cases, to its mode of preparation. It

is true, a great proportion of the membrane on which the writings of the

middle ages are inscribed, appear rough and uneven, but I could not

detect, through many manuscripts of a hundred folios--all of which

evinced this roughness--the unobliterated remains of a single letter. And

when I have met with instances, they appear to have been short

writings--perhaps epistles; for the monks were great correspondents, and,

I suspect, kept economy in view, and often carried on an epistolary

intercourse, for a considerable time, with a very limited amount of

parchment, by erasing the letter to make room for the answer. This,

probably, was usual where the matter of their correspondence was of no

especial importance; so that, what our modern critics, being emboldened

by these faint traces of former writing, have declared to possess the

classic appearance of hoary antiquity, may be nothing more than a

complimentary note, or the worthless accounts of some monastic

expenditure. But, careful as they were, what would these monks have

thought of "paper-sparing Pope," who wrote his Iliad on small pieces of

refuse paper? One of the finest passages in that translation, which

describes the parting of Hector and Andromache, is written on part of a

letter which Addison had franked, and is now preserved in the British

Museum. Surely he could afford, these old monks would have said, to

expend some few shillings for paper, on which to inscribe that for which

he was to receive his thousand pounds.

But far from the monastic manuscripts displaying a scantiness of

parchment, we almost invariably find an abundant margin, and a space

between each line almost amounting to prodigality; and to say that the

"vellum was considered more precious than the genius of the author,"[81]

is absurd, when we know that, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,

a dozen skins of parchment could be bought for sixpence; whilst that

quantity written upon, if the subject possessed any interest at all,

would fetch considerably more, there always being a demand and ready sale

for books.[82] The supposition, therefore, that the monastic scribes

erased _classical_ manuscripts for the sake of the material, seems

altogether improbable, and certainly destitute of proof. It is true, many

of the classics, as we have them now, are but mere fragments of the

original work. For this, however, we have not to blame the monks, but

barbarous invaders, ravaging flames, and the petty animosities of civil

and religious warfare for the loss of many valuable works of the

classics. By these means, one hundred and five books of Livy have been

lost to us, probably forever. For the thirty which have been preserved,

our thanks are certainly due to the monks. It was from their unpretending

and long-forgotten libraries that many such treasures were brought forth

at the revival of learning, in the fifteenth century, to receive the

admiration of the curious, and the study of the erudite scholar. In this

way Poggio Bracciolini discovered many inestimable manuscripts. Leonardo

Aretino writes in rapturous terms on Poggio's discovery of a perfect copy

of Quintillian. "What a precious acquisition!" he exclaims, "what

unthought of pleasure to behold Quintillian perfect and entire!"[83] In

the same letter we learn that Poggio had discovered Asconius and Flaccus

in the monastery of St. Gall, whose inhabitants regarded them without

much esteem. In the monastery of Langres, his researches were rewarded by

a copy of Cicero's Oration for Cæcina. With the assistance of Bartolomeo

di Montepulciano, he discovered Silius Italicus, Lactantius, Vegetius,

Nonius Marcellus, Ammianus Marcellus, Lucretius, and Columella, and he

found in a monastery at Rome a complete copy of Turtullian.[84] In the

fine old monastery of Casino, so renowned for its classical library in

former days, he met with Julius Frontinus and Firmicus, and transcribed

them with his own hand. At Cologne he obtained a copy of Petronius

Arbiter. But to these we may add Calpurnius's Bucolic,[85] Manilius,

Lucius Septimus, Coper, Eutychius, and Probus. He had anxious hopes of

adding a perfect Livy to the list, which he had been told then existed in

a Cistercian Monastery in Hungary, but, unfortunately, he did not

prosecute his researches in this instance with his usual energy. The

scholar has equally to regret the loss of a perfect Tacitus, which Poggio

had expectations of from the hands of a German monk. We may still more

deplore this, as there is every probability that the monks actually

possessed the precious volume.[86] Nicolas of Treves, a contemporary and

friend of Poggio's, and who was infected, though in a slight degree, with

the same passionate ardor for collecting ancient manuscripts, discovered,

whilst exploring the German monasteries, twelve comedies of Plautus, and

a fragment of Aulus Gellius.[87] Had it not been for the timely aid of

these great men, many would have been irretrievably lost in the many

revolutions and contentions that followed; and, had such been the case,

the monks, of course, would have received the odium, and on their heads

the spleen of the disappointed student would have been prodigally

showered.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Martene Thesaurus novus Anecdot. tom. iv. col. 1462.

[41] See Du Cange in Voc., vol. vi. p. 264.

[42] Anglia Sacra, ii. 635. Fosbrooke Brit. Monach., p. 15.

[43] Martene Thes. Nov. Anec. tom. iv. col. 1462. Stat. Ord.

Cistere, anni 1278, they were allowed for "_Studendum vel

recreandum_."

[44] Hildesh. episc apud Leibuit., tom. i. Script. Brunsvic, p. 444.

I am indebted to Du Cange for this reference.

[45] King's Munimenta Antiqua. Stevenson's Suppl. to Bentham, p. 64.

[46] Matt Paris, p. 51.

[47] Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry, p. cxiv. Regest. Nig. St. Edmund.

Abbat.

[48] Stevenson's Sup. to Bentham's Church of Norwich, 4to. 1817, p.

51.

[49] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ritib., cap. xxi. tom. iii. p. 263.

[50] _Ibid._

[51] Alcuini Opera, tom. ii. vol. i. p. 211. Carmin xvii.

[52] Preface to Ælfric's Homilies MS. Lansdowne, No. 373, vol. iv.

in the British Museum.

[53] Const. Can. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[54] MS. Harl. 6395, anecdote 348.--I am indebted to D'Israeli for

the reference, but not for the extract.

[55] The monks were strictly enjoined by the monastic rules to study

the Bible unceasingly. The Statutes of the Dominican order are

particularly impressive on this point, and enforce a constant

reading and critical study of the sacred volume, so as to fortify

themselves for disputation; they were to peruse it continually, and

apply to it before all other reading _semper ante aliam lectionem_.

_Martene Thesan. Nov. Anecdot._, tom. iv. col. 1932. See also cols.

1789, 1836, 1912, 1917, 1934.

[56] About the year 1225 Roger de Insula, Dean of York, gave several

copies of the bible to the University of Oxford, and ordered that

those who borrowed them for perusal should deposit property of equal

value as a security for their safe return.--_Wood's Hist. Antiq.

Oxon._ ii. 48.

[57] Muratori Dissert. Quadragesima tertia, vol. iii. column 849.

[58] Astle's Origin of Writing, p. 193.--See also Montfaucon

Palæographia Græca, lib. iv. p. 263 et 319.

[59] In the year 1300 the pay of a common scribe was about one

half-penny a day, see Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the

Church of Ely. p. 51.

[60] In some orders the monks were not allowed to sell their books

without the express permission of their superiors. According to a

statute of the year 1264 the Dominicans were strictly prohibited

from selling their books or the rules of their order.--_Martene

Thesaur. Nov. Anecdot._ tom. iv. col. 1741, et col. 1918.

[61] Vita Abbat. Wear. Ed. Ware, p. 26. His fine copy of the

Cosmographers he bought at Rome.--_Roma Benedictus emerat._

[62] Nosti quot Scriptores in Urbibus aut in Agris Italiæ passim

habeantur.--Ep. cxxx. See also Ep. xliv. where he speaks of having

purchased books in Italy, Germany and Belgium, at considerable cost.

It is the most interesting Bibliomanical letter in the whole

collection.

[63] Cottonian MS. in the Brit. Mus.--_Claudius_, E. iv. fo. 105, b.

[64] Epist. lxxi. p. 124, Edit. 4to. His words are--"Cum Dominus Rex

Anglorum me nuper ad Dominum Regum Francorum nuntium distinasset,

libri Legum venales Parisius oblati sunt mihi ab illo B. publico

mangone librorum: qui cum ad opus cujusdam mei nepotis idoner

viderentur conveni cum eo de pretio et eos apud venditorem

dismittens, ei pretium numeravi; superveniente vero C. Sexburgensi

Præposito sicut audini, plus oblulit et licitatione vincens libros

de domo venditories per violentiam absportauit."

[65] Chevillier, Origines de l'Imprimerie de Paris, 4to. 1694, p.

301.

[66] "Actes concernant le pouvoir et la direction de l'Université de

Paris sur les Ecrivains de Livres et les Imprimeurs qui leur ont

succédé comme aussi sur les Libraires Relieurs et Enlumineurs," 4to.

1652, p. 44. It is very rare, a copy was in Biblioth. Teller, No.

132, p. 428. A statute of 1275 is given by Lambecii Comment. de

Augus. Biblioth. Cæsarea Vendobon, vol. ii. pp. 252-267. The

booksellers are called "Stationarii or Librarii;" _de Stationariis,

sive Librariis ut Stationarus, qui vulgo appellantur_, etc. See also

_Du Cange_, vol. vi. col. 716.

[67] Chevillier, p. 301, to whom I am deeply indebted in this branch

of my inquiry.

[68] Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84. Chevillier, p. 302.

[69] The form of oath is given in full in the statute of 1323, and

in that of 1342, Chevillier.

[70] Du Breuil, Le Théâtre des Antiq. de Paris, 4to. 1612, p. 608.

[71] _Ibid._, Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84.

[72] Chevillier, p. 303.

[73] Martene Anecd. tom. i. p. 502. Hist. Lit. de la France, ix. p.

142.

[74] Chevillier, 319, who gives a long list, printed from an old

[75] Chevillier, 303.

[76] Vet. Stat. Universit. Oxoniæ, D. fol. 75. Archiv. Bodl.

[77] The Church of Norwich paid £22, 9s. for illuminating a Graduale

and Consuetudinary in 1374.

[78] Isidore Orig., cap. ii.--Jerome, in his Preface to Job, writes,

"_Habeant qui volunt veteres libros, vel in membranes purpurus auro

argentique colore purpuros aurum liquiscit in literis._" Eddius

Stephanus in his Life of St. Wilfrid, cap xvi., speaks of "Quatuor

Evangeliæ de auro purissimo in membranis de purpuratis coloratis pro

animæ suæ remidis scribere jusset." Du Cange, vol. iv. p. 654. See

also Mabillon Act. Sanct., tom. v. p. 110, who is of opinion that

these purple MSS. were only designed for princes; see Nouveau Traité

de Diplomatique, and Montfaucon Palæog. Græc., pp. 45, 218, 226, for