THE BOOK TRADE
Secular makers of books have plied their trade in Europe since classic
times, but during the early age of monachism their numbers were very
small and they must have come nigh extinction altogether. In and after
the eleventh century they increased in numbers and importance; their
ranks being recruited not only by seculars trained in the monastic
schools, but by monks who for various reasons had been ejected from
their order. These traders were divided into several classes:
parchment-makers, scribes, rubrishers or illuminators, bookbinders, and
stationers or booksellers. The stationer usually controlled the
operations of the other craftsmen; he was the middleman. Scribes were
either ordinary scriveners called _librarii_, or writers who drew up
legal documents, known as _notarii_. But the _librarius_ and _notarius_
often trenched upon each other’s work, and consequently a good deal of
ill-feeling usually existed between them.
Bookbinders, and booksellers or _stationarii_, probably first plied
their trade most prosperously in England at Oxford and Cambridge. By
about 1180 quite a number of such tradesmen were living in Oxford; a
single document transferring property in Cat Street bears the names of
three illuminators, a bookbinder, a scribe, and two parchmenters.[489]
Half a century later a bookbinder is mentioned in a deed as a former
owner of property in the parish of St. Peter’s in the East; another
bookbinder is witness to the deed (_c._ 1232-40).[490] After this
bookbinders and others of the craft are frequently mentioned. Towards
the end of the thirteenth century Schydyerd Street and Cat Street, the
centre of University life, were the homes of many people engaged in
bookmaking and selling; the former street especially was frequented by
parchment makers and sellers. In this street, too, “a tenement called
Bokbynder’s is mentioned in a charter of 1363-4; and although
bookbinding may not have been carried on there at that date, the fact of
the name having been attached to the place seems sufficient to justify
the assumption that a binder or guild of binders had formerly been
established there. In Cat Street a Tenementum Bokbyndere, owned by Osney
Abbey, was rented in 1402 by Henry the lymner, at a somewhat later date
by Richard the parchment-seller, and in 1453 by All Souls’
College.”[491]
Stationers had transcripts made, bought, sold and hired out books and
received them in pawn. They acted as agents when books and other goods
were sold; in 1389, for example, a stationer received twenty pence for
his services in buying two books, one costing £4 and the other five
marks.[492] They attended the fair at St. Giles near Oxford to sell
books. This was not their only interest, for they dealt in goods of many
kinds. They were in fact general tradesmen: sellers, valuers, and
agents; liable to be called upon to have a book copied, to buy or sell a
book, to set a value upon a pledge, to make an inventory and valuation
of a scholar’s goods and chattels after his death. Their office was such
an important one for the well-being of the scholars that it was found
convenient to extend to them the privileges and protection of the
University, and in return to exact an oath of fairdealing from
them.[493]
Before the end of the thirteenth century the University’s privileges had
been extended to _servientes_ known as parchment-makers, scribes, and
illuminators; in 1290 the privileges were confirmed.[494] Certain
stationers were then undoubtedly within the University as _servientes_,
but in 1356 they are recorded positively as being so with parchmenters,
illuminators, and writers: and again in 1459 “alle stacioners” and “alle
bokebynders” enjoyed the privileges of the University, with “lympners,
wryters, and pergemeners.”[495] These privileges took them out of the
jurisdiction of the city, although they still had to pay taxes, which
were collected by the University and paid over to the city treasurer.
Stationers regarded as the University’s servants were sworn, as we have
already indicated. The document giving the form of their oath is
undated, but most likely the rules laid down were observed from the time
the stationers were first attached to the University. The oath was
strict. A part of their duties was the valuation of books and other
articles which were pledged by scholars in return for money from the
University chests. These chests or hutches were expressly founded by
wealthy men for the assistance of poor scholars. By the end of the
fifteenth century there were at Oxford twenty-four such chests, valued
at two thousand marks; a large pawnbroking fund, but probably by no
means too large.[496] Mr. Anstey, the editor of _Munimenta Academica_,
has drawn a vivid picture of the inspection of one of these chests and
of the business conducted round them, and we cannot do better than
reproduce it. Master T. Parys, principal of St. Mary Hall, and Master
Lowson are visiting the chest of W. de Seltone. We enter St. Mary’s
Church with them, “and there we see ranged on either side several
ponderous iron chests, eight or ten feet in length and about half that
width, for they have to contain perhaps as many as a hundred or more
large volumes, besides other valuables deposited as pledges by those who
have borrowed from the chest. Each draws from beneath his cape a huge
key, which one after the other are applied to the two locks; a system of
bolts, which radiate from the centre of the lid and shoot into the iron
sides in a dozen different places, slide back, and the lid is opened. At
the top lies the register of the contents, containing the
particulars;--dates, names, and amounts--of the loans granted. This they
remove and begin to compare its statements with the contents of the
chest. There are a large number of manuscript volumes, many of great
value, beautifully illuminated and carefully kept, for each is almost
the sole valuable possession perhaps of its owner! Then the money
remaining in one corner of the chest is carefully counted and compared
with the account in the register. If we look in we can see also here and
there among the books other valuables of less peaceful character. There
lie two or three daggers of more than ordinary workmanship, and by them
a silver cup or two, and again more than one hood lined with minever. By
this time a number of persons has collected around the chest, and the
business begins. That man in an ordinary civilian’s dress who stands
beside Master Parys is John More, the University stationer, and it is
his office to fix the value of the pledges offered, and to take care
that none are sold at less than their real value. It is a motley group
that stands around; there are several
[Illustration: _PLATE XXXII_
A SCRIBE AT WORK]
masters and bachelors, ... but the larger proportion is of boys or quite
young men in every variety of coloured dress, blue and red, medley, and
the like, but without any academical dress. Many of them are very
scantily clothed, and all have their attention rivetted on the chest,
each with curious eye watching for his pledge, his book or his cup,
brought from some country village, perhaps an old treasure of his
family, and now pledged in his extremity, for last term he could not pay
the principal of his hall the rent of his miserable garret, nor the
manciple for his battels, but now he is in funds again, and pulls from
his leathern money-pouch at his girdle the coin which is to repossess
him of his property.”[497] Naturally their duty as valuers of
much-prized property invested the stationers with some importance. Their
work was thought to be so laborious and anxious that about 1400 every
new graduate was expected to give clothes to one of them; such method of
rewarding services with livery or clothing being common in the middle
ages.[498] The form of their oath was especially designed to make them
protect the chests from loss. All monies received by them for the sale
of pledges were to be paid into the chests within eight days. The sale
of a pledge was not to be deferred longer than three weeks. Without
special leave they could not themselves buy the pledges, directly or
indirectly: a wholesome and no doubt very necessary provision. Pledges
were not to be lent for more than ten days. All pledges were to be
honestly appraised. When a pledge was sold, the buyer’s name was to be
written in the stationer’s indenture. No stationer could refuse to sell
a pledge; nor could he take it away from Oxford and sell it elsewhere.
He was bound to mark all books exposed for sale, as pledges, in the
usual way, by quoting the beginning of the second folio. All persons
lending books, whether stationers or other people, were bound to lend
perfect copies. This oath was sworn afresh every year.[499]
Many stationers were not sworn. They speedily became serious competitors
with the privileged traders. By 1373 their number had increased largely,
and restrictions were imposed upon them. Books of great value were sold
through their agency, and carried away from Oxford. Owners were cheated.
All unsworn booksellers living within the jurisdiction of the University
were forbidden, therefore, to sell any book, either their own property,
or belonging to others, exceeding half a mark in value. If disobedient
they were liable to suffer pain of imprisonment for the first offence, a
fine of half a mark for the second--a curious example of graduated
punishment--and a prohibition to ply their trade within the precincts of
the University for the third.[500]
At this time bookselling was a thriving trade. De Bury tells us: “We
secured the acquaintance of stationers and scribes, not only within our
own country, but of those spread over the realms of France, Germany and
Italy, money flying forth in abundance to anticipate their demands: nor
were they hindered by any distance, or by the fury of the seas, or by
the lack of means for their expenses, from sending or bringing to us the
books that we required.”[501]
Records of various transactions are extant, of which the following may
serve as examples. In 1445, a stationer and a lymner in his employ had a
dispute, and as the two arbiters to whom the matter was referred failed
to reach a settlement in due time, the Chancellor of the University
stepped in and determined the quarrel. The judgment was as follows: the
lymner, or illuminator, was to serve the stationer, _in liminando bene
et fideliter libros suos_, for one year, and meantime was to work for
nobody else. His wage was to be four marks ten shillings of good English
money. The lymner in person was to fetch the materials from his master’s
house, and to bring back the work when finished. He was to take care not
to use the colours wastefully. The work was to be done well and
faithfully, without fraud or deception. For the purpose of
superintending the work the stationer could visit the place where the
lymner wrought, at any convenient time.[502] The yearly wage for this
lymner was nearly fifty pounds of our money.
An inscription in one codex tells us it was pawned to a bookseller in
1480 for thirty-eight shillings. Pawnbroking was an important part of a
bookseller’s business. Lending books on hire was usual among both
booksellers and tutors, for it was the exception, rather than the rule,
for university students to own books, while in the college libraries
there were sometimes not enough books to go round. For example, the
statutes of St. Mary’s College, founded in 1446, forbade a scholar to
occupy a book in the library above an hour, or at most two hours, so
that others should not be hindered from the use of them.[503]
At Cambridge the trade was not less flourishing. From time to time it
was found necessary to determine whether the booksellers and the allied
craftsmen were within the University’s jurisdiction or not. In 1276 it
was desired to settle their position as between the regents and scholars
of the University and the Archdeacon of Ely. Hugh de Balsham, Bishop of
Ely, when called in as arbiter, decided that writers, illuminators, and
stationers, who exercise offices peculiarly for the behoof of the
scholars, were answerable to the Chancellor; but their wives to the
Archdeacon. Nearly a century later, in 1353-54, we find Edward III
issuing a writ commanding justices of the peace of the county of
Cambridge to allow the Chancellor of the University the conusance and
punishment of all trespasses and excesses, except mayheim and felony,
committed by stationers, writers, bookbinders, and illuminators, as had
been the custom. But the question was again in debate in 1393-94, when
the Chancellor and scholars petitioned Parliament to declare and adjudge
stationers and bookbinders scholars’ servants, as had been done in the
case of Oxford. This petition does not seem to have been answered. But
by the Barnwell Process of 1430, it was decided that “transcribers,
illuminators, bookbinders, and stationers have been, and are wont and
ought to be--as well by ancient usage from time immemorial undisturbedly
exercised, as by concession of the Apostolic See--the persons belong and
are subject to the ecclesiastical and spiritual jurisdiction of the
Chancellor of the University for the time being.” Again in 1503 was it
agreed, this time between the University and the Mayor and burgesses of
Cambridge, that “stacioners, lymners, schryveners, parchment-makers,
boke-bynders,” were common ministers and servants of the University and
were to enjoy its privileges.[504]
Fairs were so important a means of bringing together buyers and sellers
that we should expect books to be sold at them. And in fact they were.
The preamble of an Act of Parliament reads as follows: “Ther be meny
feyers for the comen welle of your seid lege people as at Salusbury,
Brystowe, Oxenforth, Cambrigge, Notyngham, Ely, Coventre, and at many
other places, where lordes spirituall and temporall, abbotes, Prioures,
Knyghtes, Squerys, Gentilmen, and your seid Comens of every Countrey,
hath their comen resorte to by and purvey many thinges that be gode and
profytable, as ornaments of holy church chaleis, bokes, vestmentes
[etc.] ... also for howsold, as vytell for the tyme of Lent, and other
Stuff, as Lynen Cloth, wolen Cloth, brasse, pewter, beddyng, osmonde,
Iren, Flax and Wax and many other necessary thinges.”[505] The chief
fairs for the sale of books were those of St. Giles at Oxford, at
Stourbridge, Cambridge, and St. Bartholomew’s Fair in London.
London, however, speedily asserted its right to be regarded as England’s
publishing centre. The booksellers with illuminators and other allied
craftsmen established themselves in a small colony in “Paternoster
Rewe,” and they attended St. Bartholomew’s Fair to sell books. By 1403
the Stationers’ Company, which had long been in existence, was
chartered; its headquarters were in London, at a hall in Milk Street.
This guild did not confine its attention to the book-trade; nor did the
booksellers sell only books. Often, indeed, this was but a small part of
general mercantile operations. For example, William Praat, a London
mercer, obtained manuscripts for Caxton. Grocers also sold manuscripts,
parchment, paper and ink. King John of France, while a prisoner in
England in 1360, bought from three grocers of Lincoln four “quaires” of
paper, a main of paper and a skin of parchment, and three “quaires” of
paper. From a scribe of Lincoln named John he also bought books, some of
which are now in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.[506]
We have a record of an interesting transaction which took place at the
end of the manuscript period (1469). One William Ebesham wrote to his
most worshipful and special master, Sir John Paston, asking, in a
hesitating, cringing sort of way, for the payment of his little bill,
which seems to have been a good deal overdue, as is the way with bills.
All this service most lowly he recommends unto his good mastership,
beseeching him most tenderly to see the writer somewhat rewarded for his
labour in the “Grete Boke” which he wrote unto his said good mastership.
And he winds up his letter with a request for alms in the shape of one
of Sir John’s own gowns; and beseeches God to preserve his patron from
all adversity, with which the writer declares himself to be somewhat
acquainted. He heads his bill: Following appeareth, parcelly, divers and
sundry manner of writings, which I William Ebesham have written for my
good and worshipful master, Sir John Paston, and what money I have
received, and what is unpaid. For writing a “litill booke of Pheesyk” he
was paid twenty pence. Other writing he did for twopence a leaf.
Hoccleve’s _de Regimine Principum_ he wrote for one penny a leaf, “which
is right wele worth.” Evidently Ebesham did not find scrivening a too
profitable occupation.[507]