ANATHEMA!

Me diev al Scri bes a n d t he History of Boo k C urses

MARC D R O GI N

mmm

A L L A N H E L D & S C H R A M
A L L A N H E L D, O S M U N & C O. P U B LI S H E R S, I N C.
T ot o w a, N e w J ers e y

A B N E R S C H R A M L T D.
M o nt cl air, N e w J ers e y

P u blis h e d i n t h e U nit e d St at es of A m eri c a i n 1 9 8 3

b y All a n h el d, Os m u n &. C o ( A Di visi o n of Littl efi el d, A d a ms &. C o.),
8 1 A d a ms Dri v e, T ot o w a, N.J. 0 7 5 1 2 a n d b y A b n e r S c hr a m Lt d.,
3 6 P ar k Str e et, M o nt cl air, N.J. 0 7 0 4 2.

C o p y ri g ht © 1 9 8 3 b y M ar c D r o gi n

All ri g hts r es er ve d. N o p art of t his p u bli c ati o n m a y b e

r e pr o d u c e d, st or e d i n a r etri e v al s yst e m, o r tr a ns mitt e d
i n a n y f or m or b y a n y m e a ns, el e ctr o ni c, m e c h a ni c al, p h ot o ­
c o p yi n g, r e c or di n g, or ot h er wis e, wit h o ut t h e pri or p er missi o n
of t h e p u blis h er.

83 84 85 / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Pri nt e d i n t h e U nit e d St at es of A m eri c a

 To Robbie, Annie, Eric and Martha
* * *

And to the memory of George Prior, a special friend whose enthusiastic and
knowledgeable career in books and publishing enriched the lives of so many
others. A part of the pleasure in writing this book was my anticipation of
the delight 1 hoped he would find in it.
May this volume continue in motion
And its pages each day be unfurl’d,
Till an ant has drunk up the ocean,
Or a tortoise has crawl’d round the world.
Paris, 1507. From W. Roberts’ Book-Verse—
An Anthology of Poems of Books and Bookmen
from the Earliest Times to Recent Years
(London, 1896)
 C O N TE N TS

Ill ustr ati o ns ix

Pr ef ac e xiii
Ac k n o wl e d g me nts x vii
IN T R O D U C TI O N xi x
H O W B O O K S W E R E W RI T T E N / 1
T H E C A R E OF B O O KS - B ES E E C H E D 17
T H E V A L U E OF B O O KS 29
T H E C A R E OF B O O KS - D E C R E E D 36
A N AT HE M A 46
A p p e n di x - A C O N F U SI O N O F B O O K S 112
S o ur c es 129
E x pli cit 138

0 f or a B o o k e a n d a s h a di e n o o k e,
E yt h e r i n - a - d o o r e o r o ut,
Wit h t h e gr e e n e l e a v e s w his p’ri n g o v e r h e d e,
O r t h e St r e et e c r y es a l l a b o u t,
W h er e 1 m a y R e a d e a ll a t m y e as e,
B ot h o f t h e N e w e a n d Ol d e,
F o r a j olli e g o o d e B o o k e, w h e r e o n t o l o o k e,
Is b ett e r t o me t h a n G ol d e.
O l d E n glis h s o n g 76
 ILLUSTRA TIO NS

Pl at e PaSe
1 S C RI B A L T h e 6t h- c e nt ur y B. C. p hil os o p h er a n d m at h e m ati ci a n P yt h a g o-
W O R K. ii
ras, s h o w n at w or k i n a s c ul pt ur e d et ail fr o m t h e e xt eri or of C h artr es C at h e'
dr al, C h artr es, Fr a n c e. ( C o u rt es y of E diti o ns H o u v et, C h artr es)
2 M E DI E V A L M A N I N A N G U I S H. A g ar g o yl e fr o m t h e e xt eri or of N e w C oll e g e, x xii
O xf o r d. Ori gi n all y c ar v e d s h ortl y aft er 1 3 7 5, t his r e c e nt r e p r o d u cti o n r e pl a c e d
t h e ori gi n al, w hi c h h a d s uff er e d t h e a n g uis h of ti m e. ( C o u rt es y of N e w C ol ­
l e g e, O xf o r d U ni v ersit y)
3 T HE L A B O R O F B O O K P R O D U C T I O N. Ni n e vi g n ett es of t h e 1 2t h c e nt ur y, 4
s h o wi n g t h e cr e ati o n of a b o o k. ( C o u rt es y of t h e St a ats bi bli ot h e k B a m b er g,
B a m b er g, W est G er m a n y)
4 A M O N K’ S O W N B O O K. A n 8t h- c e nt ur y E n glis h m o n k’s p ers o n al e n c hiri di o n. 8
( Co u rt es y of t h e Stifts bi bli ot h e k St. G all e n, St. G all, S wit z erl a n d)
5 C u x a Cl oist er of t h e 1 3t h c e nt ur y, r e c o nstr u ct e d at
T H E C L O I S T E R S C E N E. 11
T h e Cl oist ers, N e w Y or k Cit y. ( C o u rt es y of T h e Cl oist ers, M etr o p olit a n M u ­
s e u m of Art, N e w Y or k)
6 T H E C L OIS T E R W O R K P L A C E. St. J er o m e at w or k i n a cl oist er w al k w a y, i n a 13
1 2t h- c e nt ur y ill ustr ati o n. ( C o u rt es y of T h e B o dl ei a n Li br ar y, O xf o r d)
7 T H E S C R I B E’ S P L E A T O H E A V E N. A 9t h- c e nt ur y pr a y er at t h e c o m m e n c e m e nt 14
o f a d a y’s s cri b al l a b or. ( C o u rt es y of T h e B o dl ei a n Li br ar y, O xf o r d)
 8 T H E S C R I B E’ S P L E A T O R E A D E R S. A n 1lt h/ 1 2t h- c e nt ur y c o m m e nt ar y o n s cri b al 20 I L L U S T R A TI O N S x
p ai n a n d r e a d er p olit ess e. ( C o u rt es y of T h e Britis h Li br ar y, L o n d o n)
9 T HE PLE A T h e h e artf elt r e q u est of a 9t h- c e nt ur y (?) Fr e n c h s cri b e.
R E P E A T E D. 23
( C o u rt es y of T h e Bi bli ot h è q u e N ati o n al e, P aris)
10 S A F E T Y F O R T H E S O U R C E. S e c urit y m e as ur es f or t h e m o n asti c s cri pt ori u m, 38
fr o m a 1 0t h- c e nt ur y ill ustr ati o n. ( C o u rt es y of T h e A r c hi v o Hist óri c o N a ci o n al,
M a d ri d)
11 T h e st or a g e of p a p yri r olls, fr o m a 5t h- c e nt ur y
T H E P R E - M E D I E V A L L I B R A R Y. 40
ill ustr ati o n. ( C o u rt es y of T h e Bi bli ot e c a A p ost óli c a V ati c a n a, T h e V ati c a n,
R o m e)
12 T HE M E DI E V A L E X E M P L A R A N D L I B R A R Y. T h e m ast er c o p y a n d its m e a ns of 41
st or a g e, fr o m a l at e- m e di e v al ill ustr ati o n. ( C o u rt es y of T h e Bi bli ot h è q u e R o y al e
Al b ert 1, Br uss els)
13 T H E B O O K P R O T E C T E D. A m e di e v al v ol u m e i n f ull dr ess or c h e mis e. ( C o u r ­ 44
t es y of T h e B ei n e c k e Li br ar y, Y al e U ni v ersit y, a n d T h e M etr o p olit a n M us e u m
of Art, N e w Y or k)
14 A C U RSE F O R A A 4t h- c e nt ur y B. C. P h o e ni ci a n c urs e t o pr ot e ct a
C O F F I N. 48
pri est a n d ki n g. ( C o u rt es y of T h e Ist a n b ul A r k e ol oji M u z el eri, Ist a n b ul)
15 A N A 3 8 0 0 B. C. B a b yl o ni a n ki n g’s
A N C I E N T T E M P L E ( L I B R A R Y ?) C U R S E. 51
d e a dl y t hr e at. ( C o u rt es y of T h e M us e u m of t h e U ni v ersit y of P e n ns yl v a ni a,
P hil a d el p hi a)
16 T HE O L D E S T K N O W N B O O K C U R S E. Fr o m a 7t h- c e nt ur y B. C. B a b yl o ni a n t a bl et. 53
( C o u rt es y of Mr. C h rist o p h e r W al k er, D e p art m e nt of W est er n a n d Asi ati c A nti q ui­
ti es, T h e Britis h Li br ar y, L o n d o n)
17 TH E O L D E ST C O M P L E T E W ESTERN BO O From a 1st or 3rd century
C U R SE. 56 ILLUSTRATIONS i
papyrus roll. (Courtesy of The British Library, London)
18 A C IST E R C IA N ’S SIM PLE C U R SE. From a 12th century manuscript. (Courtesy of 67
Mr. H. Clifford Maggs, Maggs Bros. Ltd., London)
19 A BISHOP’S BOO CURSE. From an 11th century manuscript. (Courtesy of The 72
Bodleian Library, O ford)
20 C U R SE. From an 11th century manuscript. (Courtesy
THE C U R A T O R ’S BO O of 74
The Pierpont Morgan Library, New ork)
21 A N E ISC ER A TIN BO O C U R SE. From a 13th ( ) century manuscript. (Cour 77
tesy of The atican Library, Rome)
22 THE CHRIST CH U RCH BO O From a medieval Apocrypha. (Courtesy
C U R SE. of 80
The Trinity College Library, Cambridge)
23 TH E PRIEST’S BO O C U R SE. From a 12th century manuscript. (Courtesy of The 85
Harvard College Library, Cambridge)
24 TH E ST. JA M E S BO OC U R SE. From a 13th century manuscript. (Courtesy of 87
The Trinity College Library, Cambridge)
25 THE TW O SA IN T S ’ BO O C U R SE. From a 12th century manuscript. (Courtesy of 89
The British Library, London)
26 From a 13th century document. (Courtesy of Mr. H.
TH E C H A R TER C U R SE. 98
Clifford Maggs, Maggs Bros. Ltd., London)
27 From a 20th century envelope. (Courtesy of
HER M A JE ST ’S P O ST A L C U R SE. 110
Prof. F. David Harvey, E eter University, E eter)

Permission by the above mentioned individuals and institutions to publish these photographs
is gratefully appreciated.
 PREFACE

It s ee ms t o me s uffici e ntl y cl e ar t hat wis d o m is t o be p urs u e d f or its o w n sa ke.

Mi hi s atis a p p ar et pr o pt er s e i ps a m a p p et e n d a s a pi e nti a.
S er vat us L u p us, E p. i *M

I t is n ot diffi c ult t o e x pl ai n h o w it all b e g a n. 1 was o n c e i ntr o d u c e d at a l e ct ur e as a h o p el ess

r o m a nti c w h o h a d f all e n i n l o v e wit h t h e m e di e v al al p h a b et. It was a n o v ersi m plifi c ati o n,
b ut n ot m u c h.
T h at e arl y p assi o n br o a d e n e d t o a n i nt er est i n h o w m e di e v al al p h a b ets w er e us e d. T o fi n d
o ut, 1 h a d t o st u d y ori gi n al t e c h ni q u es, b ut t h at r e q uir e d first l e ar ni n g a b o ut w h o h a d e m pl o y e d
t h e t e c h ni q u es —a n d t h at was m a d e cl e ar er b y st u d yi n g h o w m e di e v al s cri b es h a d b e e n t a u g ht
t h e t e c h ni q u es. R es e ar c h s e e m e d t o g o i n all dir e cti o ns. W h o was t his s cri b e? W h at w er e t h e
b o o ks h e w or k e d o n? W h er e di d h e w or k? W h at w er e his li vi n g a n d w or ki n g c o n diti o ns?
T h e r es ult was m y Me di e val C alli gr a p h y —Its Hist or y a n d T ec h ni q u e d A n d w h at I t h o u g ht
t h e n was t h e pr o p e r e n d of a n aff air pr o v e d t o b e m er el y t h e b e gi n ni n g. H o w c a n o n e st o p
b ei n g i nt er est e d? Me di e val C alli gr a p h y m e nti o n e d a si n gl e b o o k c urs e, a n d as m y r es e ar c h

‘ S u p ers cri pt n u m b ers r ef er t o t h e a ut h ors t o w h o m I h a v e t ur n e d f o r m y r es e ar c h, w h os e n a m es ar e list e d i n

al p h a b eti c al or d e r i n S o ur c es. T o ai d t h e i nt er est e d r e a d er, f oll o wi n g e a c h a ut h o r’s n a m e is a list of all of his
w or ks I h a v e r e a d i n g at h eri n g m at eri al f o r t his b o o k.
^ Al l a n h el d a n d S c hr a m, 1 9 8 0.
continued I found five, then ten, then more. It mentioned a few abecedarian sentences, but PREFACE
further reading revealed do ens. References to wa tablets, papyrus rolls, and vellum codices
made me curious about their origin, mythical and otherwise, and more information surfaced.
The brief description of scribal life fanned my interest in who these thousands of forgotten
copyists had been. How were they schooled Where did they work As I dug further, the
early medieval classroom came into focus, and with it the sound of students complaints and
the whack of a palmer against an inattentive child. Who was the teacher Why was he harried
I studied monastic life to learn about the scriptorium, only to become curious about why
scribes always moved their lips when reading. Researching this, I discovered their habit of
speaking in hand signals. Why Each bit of information, answering one uestion, raised more.
I sit here in my study, two years later, surrounded by a bookcase of file bo es overflowing
with cards of curious bits of information divided into do ens of categories details of medieval
scribal life, work, amusements, tools, techni ues, book construction, classroom procedures,
legends, anecdotes, details of script evolution. On the shelves are more than 800 books, ournal
articles, and ero es of unpublished theses from which this information was gathered. Among
them are more than 400 other books and files of ero es containing an e ual amount of
detail which I get to as I can. It is my despair that reference material is always easier found
than the time in which to digest it.
On my last visit to England I made my customary stop at Blackwell’s Anti uarian Bookshop,
housed in a lovely medieval manor in Fyfield, near O ford. I was there, as usual, to visit my
good friend Barry Mc ay, a consummate e pert in anti uarian books, and to see what
interesting volumes might have been ac uired since my previous visit. My good sense having
been blunted either by euphoria or the delicious meal we’d ust finished at an ancient inn,
I said, I’ll take that, when my eyes lit upon Sir William Dugdale’s Monasticon Anglicanum.
There is nothing wrong, of course, with picking up another reference book. In fact, I tend
to weigh the pleasure of any trip by the sheer dead weight of reference books under my
arm at the trip’s end. But this was different. Dugdale’s research constitutes eight enormous
books, the sum total in si e and heft somewhat reminiscent of a sheep. A matronly sheep.
It was a moment of happy madness that only a fellow book lover, totally without common
sense, can fully appreciate. Telling me a few days later that the set had been shipped to me,
Barry said he was in trouble with the management the Monasticon had held down that end PREFACE
of the manor which now sat, sans Dugdale, at an unsightly tilt.
I wondered yesterday where, and how, the Monasticon can possibly be housed in my little
study when it arrives. And since thought always (and dangerously, on my part) follows
thought, 1 began to wonder about Dugdale and his history of the ancient abbeys, monasteries,
hospitals, cathedral and college churches, etc., of England and Wales. Did it not all perhaps
begin one unsuspecting morning in the 17th century when, with nothing better to do, he
sat down in his study and decided to write something interesting about one unusual abbey
Had he intended only a mole hill and not a mountain Was my catalogue of filed notes the
beginning of a monstrous work so compelling that it could not be stopped, and so large that
few could or would purchase it
The notes I’ve gathered are a delight to me, and I anticipate the pleasure of relaying them
to anyone interested in ancient scribes and their books. But like two authors before me, I
am compelled to insert a cautionary note. In the 12th century a scribe wrote out the Tain,
the monumental Ulster saga of Cuchulainn (the Tain Bo Cuailnge). At its end he wrote

But I, who have written this history, or rather fable, am doubtful about many things
in this history or fable. For some of them are the figments of demons, some of them
poetic imaginings, some true, some not, some for the delight of fools 63

Present company e cluded, of course. Five hundred years later, John Taylor
inserted in his Miscellanies,

All these things heer collected, are not mine,

But divers grapes make but one sort of wine
So I, from many learned authors took
The various matters printed in this book. . . .
Some things are very good, pick out the best,
ood wits compiled them, and I wrote the rest.
 If thou dost buy it, it will uit thy cost, PREFACE
Read it, and all thy labour is not lost.76

I must similarly remind you that I am a researcher and not a scholar. I have gathered
together the truth as I could find it, and with it legends, apocryphal tales, and enticing bits
and pieces only as reliable as the sources from which they come. They are all now a part of
the fascinating perspective of medieval scribes and their books. But the past, as much as we
may write of it, is a morass of confusion across which even a saint would hesitate to tread.
In fact, take saints as an e ample how does one, in writing about St. Colman, differentiate
between the more than 130 by that name mentioned in Irish ecclesiastical records 6 How does
one know fact from legend when 66 different lives of St. Patrick were once in circulation at
the same time 78 (Let’s not even look into the fact that the purpose of early medieval biographies
was to make a religious statement, and only secondarily to relate factual data if it conveniently
fit the purpose.)
So 1 sit here with Dugdale’s manor leveling works ine orably approaching, and my own
growing daily. When I tried to carry the Monasticon from its shelf to Blackwell’s shipping
department, the sub ect of book curses came instantly to mind and thus this odd bit of
medieval past became the sub ect of this volume. May the reader find book curses as fascinating
as I do.

Some so so things,
Some bad, some good ones here,
And that’s the way a book is made, old dear.
Marcus Valerius Martialis55
 A C K N O W LED G M EN T S

O w hat a pl e as a nt lif e it was, w he n we us e d t o sit q ui etl y a m o n g t he

l ear ne d b o xes of b o o ks, a m o n gst t he a b u n d a n c e of v ol u mes, a m o n gst t he
ve nera bl e s e nti me nts of t he Fat h ers.
O q u a m d ul cis vit a f uit, d u m s e d e b a m us q ui eti i nt er s a pi e ntis s cri ni as,
i nt er li br or u m c o pi as, i nt er v e n er a n d os p atr u m s e ns us.
Al c ui n, 9t h c e nt ur y 93

A
r es e ar c h er is o nl y w ort h t h e b o o ks h e is l e d t o, t h e fri e n ds w h o s u p p ort hi m, a n d t h e
s c h ol ars ki n d e n o u g h t o a d vis e, c orr e ct, a n d o c c asi o n all y tr a nsl at e. I h o p e t his v ol u m e
will r efl e ct t h e est e e m i n w hi c h I h ol d t h os e w h o h a v e h el p e d m e: C o r n eli a St ar ks a n d Br u c e
B ar k er- B e nfi el d, B o dl ei a n Li br ar y, O xf o r d U ni v ersit y; F. D a vi d Har v e y, F. W. Cl a yt o n, a n d
Mrs. A u dr e y Ers ki n e, E x et er U ni v ersit y, E x et er, T r e v o r K a y e, T ri nit y C oll e g e Li br ar y, C a m bri d g e
U ni v ersit y; C. B. F. W al k er a n d R. A. H. S mit h, T h e Britis h Li br ar y, L o n d o n; J a m es J. J o h n,
C or n ell U ni v ersit y, It h a c a, N. Y.; E. G. T ur n er, U ni v ersit y C oll e g e L o n d o n; Sist er Wil m a
Fit z g er al d a n d P a ul D utt o n, P o ntifi c al I nstit ut e f or M e di e v al St u di es, T o r o nt o; P et er P ars o ns,
C h rist C h ur c h, O xf o r d; J a n - Ol of Tj a d er, U p ps al a U ni v ersit y, U p ps al a; Mrs. G e o r g e H. S e ml er,
Jr., t h e Pi er p o nt M or g a n Li br ar y, N e w Y or k; D a vi d G a n z, U ni v ersit y of N o rt h C ar oli n a,
C h a p el Hill; J uli a n G. Pl a nt e, Hill M o n asti c M a n us cri pt Li br ar y, St. J o h n’s U ni v ersit y,
C oll e g e vill e, Mi n n.; P a ul M e y v a ert, T h e M e di e v al A c a d e m y of A m eri c a, B ost o n; D a vi d T h o m as
a n d Ri c h ar d M. M or a nt e, P hilli ps- E x et er A c a d e m y, E x et er, N. H..
 Also H. Clifford Maggs, Maggs Bros. Ltd., London Raphael Posner, Jerusalem J. B. (Barry) AC NOWLED viii
Mc ay, Blackwell’s Anti uarian Bookstore, Fyfield, O fordshire Christopher de Hamel, Soth­ MENTS
eby’s, London Bruce Lewington, Weatherhead’s Bookshop, Aylesbury, England Roy H. Lewis,
Bookfinders, London Robert Fleck, Oak noll Books, New Castle, Del. Emily and John
Ballinger, The Book Press, Ltd., New Castle, Del. unnlaugur S. E. Briem, London Michael
ullick, Hitchin, Hertfordshire raham Newman, Bampton Castle, O fordshire Michael W.
O’Laughlin, Somerville, Mass. Mrs. Anne Rose Hertig, Mrs. Martha Drogin, and isela Hanstein
aensler, E eter, N.H. Mark an Stone, Portsmouth, N.H. Marc Reeves, Chicago Mrs. Margaret
Broughton, Salford, England Mrs. Dewey Henderson, Edmonds, Wash. Russell Johanson,
Seattle, Wash. Mrs. Courtenay Willey, Pennington, N.J. and Miss Judith Anne Duncan,
Minneapolis, Minn., whose gift of her small volume first brought book curses to my attention.
1 am especially indebted to the works of the late . . Coulton. They bring the Middle
Ages to life because he chose, through contemporary uotes, to let medieval man speak for
himself. When Coulton’s own words were necessary, they were brief, clear, and to the point.
In all my writings 1 endeavor to imitate a form of which he was an unsurpassed master.
Last, my thanks to the authors of the works in this and following sources sections. Friends
are often busy elsewhere scholars fre uently disappear on lecture tours when you need them
most. But these authors, by their works, are always at hand. They have become to me, through
my years of reading, the source of my most en oyed hours.

I have sought for happiness everywhere, but I have found it nowhere except
in a little comer with a little book.
Thomas a empis (1380 1471 )23

i
 IN T R O D U C T IO N

• • s -j
We ma y was h a n d c o m b a d o g as m uc h as we will, yet it will still r e mai n
b ut a d o g.
A bl u e, p e ct e, c a n e m, c a nis esr, q ui a p er m a n e at i d e m.
L a v e z c h e n, p ei g n e z c h e n, t o ut e v ois n’est c hi e n q u e c h e n.
1 2t h- c e nt ur y N or m a n pr o v er b 108

S o di v ers e ar e t h e d et ails of m e di e v al lif e t h at e v er y a ut h o r w h o a p pr o a c h es it c a n e asil y

aff or d his r e a d er a u ni q u e p oi nt of vi e w. H a d o n e t h e ti m e t o r e a d e v er yt hi n g, o n e mi g ht
a c q uir e a n a c c ur at e pi ct ur e. B ut o n e w o ul d als o fi n d c o ntr a di cti o ns e v er y w h er e. W h at e v er we
tr y t o m a k e of t h e Mi d dl e A g es, t h e s c o p e d efi es us. T o r e d u c e it t o s o m et hi n g we c a n e asil y
c o m pr e h e n d, we l o w er o u r si g hts a n d att e m pt t o gr as p a p arti c ul ar ar e a. T h e b eli e v er s e es it
as t h e c hil d h o o d of C h risti a nit y; t h e w arri or s e es it as 1, 5 0 0 y e ars of i ntri g ui n g a n d s atisf yi n g
v ari ati o ns of bl o o ds h e d. T h e ar c hit e ct, t h e s o ci al s ci e ntist, t h e d o ct or or bi ol o gist s e es it as
t h e ti m e of gr e at a w a k e ni n g of w h at h as b e c o m e his o w n i nt er est. A n d s o e a c h of us, b y
r e a c hi n g f or w h at we will, l os es si g ht of t h e w h ol e i n a c q uiri n g a p art. A n d if we wis h t o
pr oj e ct a w h ol e o n t h e b asis of t h at p art, t h e dist orti o n is i n es c a p a bl e.
It is n o l ess a pr o bl e m f or t h os e of us i nt er est e d i n t h e ori gi n of o ur al p h a b et, of writi n g,
a n d of t h e hist or y of t h e b o o k. B ut if o u r i nt er est is, at t his m o m e nt, t h e m e di e v al s cri b e’s
c uri o us h a bit of i ns erti n g c urs es i n his b o o ks, p er h a ps we c a n u n d erst a n d t his pr o cli vit y b y
st arti n g wit h a br o a d er vi e w of t h e hist ori c l a n ds c a p e i n w hi c h it o c c urr e d. A n d att e m pt t o
see it not through our eyes, but through the scribe s, and learn about it as he himself described INTRODUCTION

It was not uncommon in the Middle Ages for dire curses to be laid upon books in fact,
the custom even bridged the gap from manuscript writing to printing. It is easy enough to
uote the curses. But to understand how heartfelt such curses were, it would help to have a
brief understanding of how books were produced, in what value they were held, what forces
threatened them, and with what care even resorting to the dramatic curse medieval man
attempted to protect them.
And so, on to the humble scribe, and how and why he brought down upon the reader
of his books the Anathema or curse of e communication and death.

ou should make a habit in reading books to attend

more to the sense than to the words, to concentrate on
the fruit rather than the foliage ui soletis in Scrip
turis magis sensui uam verbis incumbere, fructui
potius uam foliis inhaerere .
Notation in a 13th century monastic
chronicle (London, British Museum,
Ms. Cotton, esp. E.4)36
 HOW BO O KS WERE W RITTEN

A n i nc ura bl e itc h f or scri b bli n g t a k es p oss essi o n of

ma n y, a n d gr o ws i n vet erat e i n t heir i nsa ne br easts.
J uv e n al ( 6 0 - 1 4 0 A. D.) 23
* * *

A m o nast er y wit h o ut b o o ks is li ke a st at e wit h o ut

r es o urces, a c a m p wit h o ut tr o o ps, a kitc he n wit h o ut
cr oc ker y, a t a bl e wit h o ut f o o d, a g ar d e n wit h o ut
gr ass, a fi el d wit h o ut fl o wers, a tree wit h o ut l ea ves.
M o n ast eri u m si n e li bris est si c ut ci vit as si n e
o pi b us, c astr u m si n e n u m er us, c o q ui n a si n e s u p-
p ell e ctili, m e ns a si n e ci bis, h ort us si n e h er bis,
pr at u m si n e fl ori b us, ar b o r si n e f oliis.
J a k o b L o u ber, of t he C a r -
t h usi a n M o nast er y i n B as el 93

F or m or e t h a n 1, 0 0 0 y e ars, t h e C h risti a n C h u r c h, d es pit e its e x c ess es

a n d i n c a p a citi es, w as a s o ur c e — oft e n t h e o nl y s o u r c e — of s af et y,
s er e nit y a n d c ult ur e i n a n oft e n s elf- d estr u cti v e w orl d.
 In t h e c o urs e of t h e Mi d dl e A g es, w h e n t h e w orl d oft e n s e e m e d A N A T H E M A! 2
t o h a v e g o n e m a d, m u c h c a n b e s ai d f or t h e C h u r c h’s r ol e — w h at
it st o o d f or a n d w h at it di d —i n pr ot e cti n g a n d a d v a n ci n g w h at was
g o o d i n m a n ki n d, a n d bri n gi n g it s af el y t hr o u g h t o t h e R e n aiss a n c e.
T h at y o u a n d I k n o w a b o ut o ur p ast a n d c a n, at will, pi c k u p a
b o o k a n d l e ar n w h o we w er e a n d of w h at o ur c ult ur e was c o m pris e d,
we o w e i n gr e at m e as ur e t o t h e C h u r c h. F or if s ur vi v al w as its
b usi n ess, li k e a n y b usi n ess it was s u p p ort e d i n g o o d p art b y p a p er w or k.
It c o ul d n ot o p er at e, d ef e n d its elf, or e x p a n d i nt ell e ct u all y or g e o­
gr a p hi c all y wit h o ut e n or m o us r eli a n c e o n writt e n m at eri al. It n e e d e d
c o pi es n ot o nl y of G o d’s w or d, b ut of t h e milli o ns of w or ds i n
c o m m e nt ar y u p o n His: c o m m e nt ari es, s er m o ns, m or al t al es, a n d li v es
of t h e s ai nts (i n a P assi o nari us). It n e e d e d c o pi es of its o w n m o n asti c
r ul es (i n a R e g ul a), a n d t h e n t h e hist ori es of its c o m m u niti es ( C h r o n ­
i cl es) a n d r e c or ds of t h eir ass e m bli es’ d e cisi o ns ( C o ns u et u di n ari a).* It ‘ T h e r e a d er will fi n d i n t h e A p p e n di x, A
C o n f usi o n of B o o ks, d es cri pti o ns of t h e m a n y
n e e d e d d e e ds a n d wills a n d l ett ers t o g u ar a nt e e its l e g al p ositi o n.* diff er e nt t y p es of c h ur c h-r el at e d b o o ks t h at
A n d it c o ul d n ot c o m m u ni c at e a m o n g all its p arts wit h o ut l ett ers mi g ht b e f o u n d i n us e i n t h e Mi d dl e A g es.
fr o m m o n asti c h o us e t o R o m e, a n d fr o m m o n ast er y t o m o n ast er y. fit off er e d t his s er vi c e t o o utsi d ers as a
S o m e t hi n gs n e e d e d t o b e writt e n o nl y o n c e, b ut f or C at h oli c m at eri al m e a ns of o c c asi o n al r e v e n u e. 11
( a nti p h o n ari es, bi bl es, c a n o ns, di ur n al es, e pist ol ari a ... s e e A p p e n di x)
t h er e was a n e v er- e n di n g d e m a n d f or c o p y u p o n c o p y. A n d w h e n ** Gl oss a ori gi n all y m e a nt a n u n us u al w or d,
b ut l at er r ef err e d t o t h e d efi niti o n p e n n e d
a n y w or k b e c a m e a nti q u at e d, it was n e c ess ar y t o g o b a c k t hr o u g h a b o v e it i n mi n us c ul e writi n g. Fr o m c oll e c­
it a n d gl oss t h e m a n us cri pt t o m a k e it o n c e a g ai n u n d e rst a n d a bl e.** ti o ns a n d d efi niti o ns of gl oss a e we a c q uir e d
A n d n ot j ust C at h oli c m at eri al: m u c h of w h at c o ul d b e f o u n d t h e t er m gl oss ar y
fr o m t h e c ult ur es of a n ci e nt Gr e e c e a n d R o m e was pr es er v e d a n d f f P a g a n, as us e d h er e, a n d heat he n m e a n
c o pi e d. N ot b e c a us e C h ur c h l e a d ers w er e at all e c u m e ni c al w h e n it n o n- C at h oli c. B ut b ot h h a d si mil ar ori gi ns
c a m e t o p a g a n m at eri al at first.** P o p e Gr e g or y o n c e e x pl ai n e d: h a vi n g n ot hi n g t o d o wit h, or wit h o ut, r eli-

The devils know well that the knowledge of profane literature helps
us to understand sacred literature.71
But it was perhaps more clearly put in a notation, shortly after 1025,
in an Italian diary
Why does this reverent Abbot place the heathen authors, the histories
of tyrants, and such books, among theological works To this we answer
in the words of the Apostle, that there are vessels of clay as well as
of gold. By these means the tastes of all men were e cited to study
the intention of the gentile writings is the same as that of the Scriptures,
to give us a contempt for the world and secular greatness.97
HOW BOO S WERE WRITTEN 3
gion. Paganus, in Latin, meant peasant. In
the Roman army a paganus was contemptible,
a fellow who didn’t enlist. It later came to
mean a heathen or one who was not a soldier
of Christ. Rather unfair, really the haethen
(Old English) was one who lived in the
haeth, i.e., a country fellow whose only fault
was that city dwellers, believing themselves
more sophisticated, considered haethens to be
uncouth.

The end result was that instead of being lost in the chaos of the
early Middle Ages, the great works of reece and Rome were preserved
by copying and recopying. (It is a most appropriate term. To have
a copy is to be enriched. It is from the Latin copia, meaning
abundance, that the French ac uired copie and we took copy. )30
As the Middle Ages progressed, the ancient works were more and
more appreciated. And it is only because of their having been copied
in the Middle Ages that we know virtually anything of the history,
philosophy, poetry, plays, or scientific pursuits of the Classical Age.
The bridge between the ancient past and the modern age, then, was
not forged by memory, but by the incredible and interminable process,
hour after day after millenium, of copying books.
So important was the production of books that in the monasteries
(the first and, for much of the Middle Ages, the only sanctuary of
 Plate 3 THE LABOR OF B O O K P R O D U C T IO N .
So important was book production that some monastic
orders specified it in their Rules. T h at it w as complex
and time-consuming is seen in a set of nine miniatures
from a manuscript produced in Germ any, c.
1100-1150. Monks are shown (1 ) preparing
parchment; (2 ) cutting it to size or scoring lines for
lettering; (3 ) cutting a quill pen; (4 ) painting or
trimming pages; (5 ) sewing the folios or quires
together; (6 ) making the book's cover and (7 ) its clasp;
(8 ) showing its completion, or its purpose in that one
can learn from it oneself or (9) use it to teach others.
( Bam berg, Staatsbibliothek Bamberg, MSC. Pair. 5
fB.ii.5J, folio 1 verso)
our culture) the tools for writing and the regulations regarding reading HOW BOOKS WERE w r i t t e n
were an intrinsic part of the operating Rules (see Plate 3). In later
years the production of books was specified

By this constitution we order that every monk not otherwise reasonably

prevented at the time and place appointed be occupied in the study
of reading, or in writing, correcting, illuminating, and likewise in
binding books.
From the Statutes of the Benedictines.
England, 13th and 14th centuries33
In place of manual labour the Abbot shall appoint other occupations
for their claustral monks according to their capabilities namely study,
writing, correcting, illuminating and binding books.
Ruling of the General Chapter
of Canterbury, 127733

In early, primitive monastic communities, all members shared all

labor, yet monasteries were not established for work, but for con­
templation and prayer. As the community gained in si e and wealth,
an ever increasing number of menial tasks were turned over to lay
brothers and employees. Writing was left to those most skilled at it,
because of its importance. In the latter part of the Middle Ages
much of this work was turned over to paid professionals, part of
the si able population of self employed scribes who catered to busi­
nesses, private collectors, and the enormous demands for te ts during
the rise of the universities.
If we accept the all pervading need to have books, we can begin
to understand how much effort might willingly be e pended by ANATHEMA 6
medieval man in ac uiring and reproducing them. Any book, even
badly produced and riddled with errors, might well be the only one
on that sub ect that anyone in the community had ever seen. It was
the result, in some cases, of weeks or months of negotiation with a
distant house for its loan the putting up of a si able pledge for its
security the wait for its arrival. And the copying of it, proofreading,
decoration, and binding could involve months of labor on the part
of several people. So highly valued was the act of loaning a book
for copying that the house loaning its book would commonly ask
that, for services rendered, the original be safely returned plus a copy.
In the latter half of the 9th century, Lupus, the Abbot of Ferrieres,* *It is odd that an Aramaic word, abba
(father), became abbot the father of his
loved to borrow books so much that he was not above re uesting flock, the head of his monastery (or abbey).
copies from Pope Benedict III. When his victim understandably seemed
unenthusiastic, Lupus insisted that the book in uestion was average
in si e and could easily be sent to him. But when anyone attempted
to borrow a book from Lupus, he insisted that it was far too large
or much too precious, or that the ourney would be far too dangerous.26
We find it difficult today, surrounded by libraries, pestered by
book clubs, tripped up in supermarkets by racks of books, to appreciate
how rare a book was. Not so Apollinaris Sidonius. Hearing that a
monk was passing nearby on his way to Britain with a particular
manuscript, he rushed down the road with his secretaries, stopped
the monk, and beside the road dictated the te t to his staff.80 Some
monks who left their communities on pilgrimage and were given
hospitality at a distant monastery are known to have stolen a book
they found there 4 the gaining of knowledge for their own community
was more worthy than the crime was sinful. And no studious monk HOW BOO S WERE WRITTEN
abroad failed to carry his own enchiridion (notebook)* in which to *See Appendi , A Confusion of Books.
ot down as much as he could of interest from every new book he
found in his travels and which he could not afford to purchase (see
Plate 4). So valuable were these e cerpts that, to his fellows, they
constituted a literary work in themselves.
Because of its reliance on books, the monastery devoted some of
its space and much of its efforts toward the production of materials
for and the copying of books. ood scribes were treasures. Odo, the
Abbot of St. Martin’s at Tournay in the late 11th century,
used to e ult in the number of writers the Lord had given him for
if you had gone into the cloister you might in general have seen a
do en young monks sitting on chairs in perfect silence, writing at
tables carefully and artificially constructed. Many important works
he caused to be transcribed. So that you would scarcely have found
such a monastery in that part of the country, and everybody was
begging for copies to correct their own.18

The study of the production of books (the evolution of the

materials and tools involved, the location and furnishing of work
areas, the rules regarding what was to be copied, who was to do it,
and how it was to be done) is a lengthy and comple one. Only a
few points need to be made here to make it clear that, stripped of
its romanticism, the copying of books was a tedious and debilitating
task, a mass production effort. Even a brief knowledge of this will
increase our understanding of how highly the end product was
esteemed.
 ? C U C Ű- X M h oft c c r U c e o Я м, r:
р и С В Д Т Шр Pocjc í' p ol ^ Q C p dif Í Kl S 1
CJ ^ - U ü - f l ¿ h u ^ c V c u u - p ^ .
<• ff mij* f o o pj p fj ¿c v pt yc c ul p a r о с щ e
- ki ü rít - mi п и щ: т , ц *.
~ , vX* r r o m íi xj v Ыю m t n fif -t " ct ^ C u (rl- c/irf c m p e p
t n ct pi e n o R e c o m e o xi c di b p c c c q:
t-fa. J¿ p ó l u s j < 9 c ^ o yti p K Ь у ' т m f q s o ^
j M- p e p p h ^ pi q: 5l o b u m ft o c n d u n t
T ^ ""- ^ • . l m . p . « V „ ;1 * .
c u a p x c c a p- o y c et n: и х с г р « A d uc d
_ di ctf Uf m - ^ - «i r p u nt
Л с u*- г щ. c c U m u ñ ó n ". . T p o cl eif l U v p't h í)-. mi n u us t o nf p c c c
., r n v mttr- u ej c of w n- a p i n o ct u u m c oi o p mi p ot a u nt íi
i p o p t o p p o U p a ^ ífi c e c h m c cf a c c u
n r' ^ w W u fft e d f[t v.
tft h o m o ut eiit mf c c Ct é " d p h- m c o p df

Pl at e 4: A M O N K ’ S O W N B O O K . E v e r y m o n k i n p u r s uit o f k n o wl e d g e c a r ri e d wit h hi m a
n ot e b o o k i n w hi c h h e g at h e r e d, i n o r d e r o f a c q uisiti o n, w h at e v e r h e c o nsi d e r e d mi g ht b e o f l at e r
us e. T his e n c hiri di o n b el o n g e d t o a n E n glis h m o n k c. 7 8 0 - 9 0, w h o c a r ri e d it w hil e o n a missi o n
t o G e r m a n y. O n e o f its p a g e s s u g g ests t h at h e w a s a t e a c h e r o f y o u n g st u d e nts o r s c ri b es, f o r it
c o nt ai ns t w o A b e c e d a ri a n s e nt e n c es (s e e M arc D r o gi n, M e di e v al C alli g r a p h y ( All a n h el d &
S c h r a m, 1 9 8 0 ], p p. 1 2 - 1 3 ). ( St. G all, Stifts bi bli ot h e k St. G all e n, M s. 9 1 3, p. 8 9 )
 Fr o m al m ost t h e b e gi n ni n g of m o n asti c hist or y, r e g ar dl ess of t h e H O W B O O KS WE RE W RI T T E N 9
e d u c ati o n al v al u e of b o o ks, t h eir c o p yi n g was c o nsi d er e d m a n u al
l a b or a n d pr o m ot e d as a wa y of i n v ol vi n g t h e p ers o n i n h ar d w or k
f or t h e b e n efit of his s o ul i n t h e h er e aft er. 41 Alt h o u g h A b b ot J o h n
T ritt e n h ei m of t h e M o n ast er y of S p a n h ei m li v e d at t h e e n d of t h e
e r a,* his w or ds w o ul d h a v e r u n g as tr u e al m ost a t h o us a n d y e ars " Tritt e n h ei m is m or e c o m m o nl y r ef err e d t o
e arli er. H e ur g e d his m o n ks at t h eir s cri b al w or k i n 1 4 8 6: as Trit h e mi us a n d was t h e a ut h or of d e l a u d e
Scri pt or u m (I n Pr ais e of S cri b es).

I ha v e di mi nis h e d y o ur l a b o urs o ut of t he m o nast er y, l est b y w or ki n g

ba dl y y o u s h o ul d o nl y a d d t o y o ur si ns; a n d ha v e e nj o y n e d o n y o u
t he ma n ual l a b o ur of writi n g a n d bi n di n g b o o ks. T h es e, a n d si mil ar
o c c u p ati o ns, y o u ma y carr y o n wit h tr a n q uilit y of mi n d a n d b o d y,
wit hi n t he i ncl os ur e of t he m o nast er y. 1 wis h t hat y o u ma y dili g e ntl y
p erf or m e v e n t hes e w or ks of y o ur ha n ds f or t he l o v e of G o d, l est y o u
eat t he br e a d of i dl e ness. T h er e is, i n m y o pi ni o n, n o ma n ual l a b o ur
m or e b e c o mi n g a m o n k t ha n t he writi n g of eccl esi asti cal b o o ks, a n d
pr e p ari n g w hat is n e e df ul f or ot h ers w h o writ e t he m; f or t his h ol y
l a b o ur will g e n er all y a d mit of b ei n g i nt err u pt e d b y pr a y er, a n d of
wat c hi n g f or t he f o o d of t he s o ul n o l ess t ha n of t he b o d y. N e e d als o
ur g es us t o l a b o ur dili g e ntl y i n writi n g b o o ks, if we desir e t o ha v e at
h a n d t he mea ns of us ef ull y e m pl o yi n g o urs el v es i n s pirit u al st u di es. 54

T h e m o n asti c s cri b e was t h e s oil i n w hi c h his m o n ast er y gr e w a n d

s et o ut offs h o ots f or, wit h o ut hi m, it w o ul d wit h er a n d di e. T h e
s cri b e’s was a m e ni al t as k, b ut n ot m e ni all y p er c ei v e d. A b b ots f o u n d
ti m e t o sit a n d c o p y. St. D a vi d hi ms elf b e g a n a c o p y of t h e G os p el
of St. J o h n, a n d St. D u nst a n n ot o nl y t ur n e d t o s u c h w or k fr e q u e ntl y,
b ut was f a m o us f or his s kill. 33 E v er y h a n d t h at c o ul d writ e, di d s o.
St. Columba, among his many works, copied a psalter. He might ANATHEMA 10

better have left it uncopied. It was borrowed from his teacher, Finian,
apparently without permission. To copy without permission was
considered embe lement. Finian demanded back the original and
the copy as well. St. Columba refused, and the disagreement became
so acrimonious that it reached ing Diarmid. He ruled in Finian’s
favor, demanding the copy be returned with the psalter, as calf
must go with the cow. St. Columba and his followers went to war
to regain it, and were forced into e ile.95
The monastic scribe worked in far from productive conditions. In
European and perhaps in Irish monasteries, an unheated room was
provided ,for all to gather for copywork. In some cases, if the scribe
were a ranking officer of the monastery, he might have his own
simple workroom, and this was the case in later days with Carthusian
monks.26 The English monk engaged in writing, e cept in rare cases,
had no writing room or scriptorium14 (until at least the 14th century).26
Instead he, like many of his contemporaries outside England, sat at
a desk between arches of the covered walkway that surrounded the
center of the monastic community, the cloister. Originally meaning
any enclosed space, the claustrum later referred to the rectangular
area formed by the surrounding walls of the monastic buildings, in
the center of which was the garden or lawn, the cloister garth (see
Plate 5). A logical architectural plan, it gave the community a center
and allowed easy access to all the ma or structures. It also led to a
feeling of being securely enclosed and in some cases, unfortunately,
trapped. It is from claustrum that the word claustrophobia derives,
Plate 5 THE CLOISTER S C E N E . The C u x a Cloister, formed by the
monastic buildings’ placement in the 13th century a s an open central area,
appears a serene attraction to eye and mind. The cloister w as the center
of the monastery’s activities, at one and the same time a haven and a
confinement. Monks once flocked across the garth (or lawn, but in this
cloister a garden) on various errands, while teachers taught and others met
in the shadowed surrounding walkway, and scribes sat copying between the
walkway pillars. (T he Cloisters of the M etropolitan Museum of A rt, New
York)
t h e f e ar of b ei n g e n cl os e d, 30 w hi c h, o n o c c asi o n, s e nt m o n ks i nt o a A N A T H E M A! 12

st at e of d e pr essi o n a n d e v e n of vi ol e n c e.
T h e s cri b e’s o nl y pr ot e cti o ns fr o m t h e el e m e nts w er e t h e c eili n g,
his cl ot hi n g, a n d p er h a ps a s cr e e n b et w e e n t h e ar c h es. T h e E n glis h
a n d c o nti n e nt al s cri b e w or k e d i n r el ati v e sil e n c e (r el ati v e i n t h at h e
r e cit e d al o u d t o hi ms elf t h e t e xt w hi c h h e was c o p yi n g) wit h ot h er
s cri b es o n eit h er si d e of hi m. B e n e at h hi m w as a b a c kl ess st o ol a n d
b ef or e hi m a s e v er el y tilt e d w or k s urf a c e (s e e Pl at e 6.) If t h er e was
n o h urri e d n e e d f or a p arti c ul ar b o o k, it was gi v e n t o t h e s cri b e t o
c o p y fr o m b e gi n ni n g t o e n d. B ut w h e n pr o d u cti o n s p e e d was c all e d
f or, t h e b o o k was di vi d e d i nt o s e cti o ns, a n d a p orti o n gi v e n t o e a c h
of s e v er al s cri b es t o r e pr o d u c e. T h e s cri b e h a d n o r e c o urs e s h o ul d
h e wis h t o c o p y a n ot h er, or n ot c o p y it at all. T o o bj e ct m e a nt
d e pri v al of wi n e or e v e n f o o d at t h e e n d of t h e d a y. ( T o r ef us e
m e a nt gr e at er p u nis h m e nt, i n o n e c as e t h e e xtr e m e of b ei n g c h ai n e d
t o his d es k u ntil t h e w or k was c o m pl et e d.) 16 T h e m at eri al h e c o pi e d
mi g ht b e of i nt er est t o hi m — b ut mi g ht w ell n ot. It c o ul d e v e n b e
i n a l a n g u a g e f or ei g n t o hi m, w hi c h m a d e t h e c o p yi n g all t h e m or e
diffi c ult.
T h e w e at h er mi g ht b e u n c o mf ort a bl e, t h e li g ht p o or ( n o artifi ci al
li g ht was all o w e d, f or f e ar of d a m a gi n g eit h er t h e e x e m pl ar or t h e
c o p y),* a n d t h e t e xt diffi c ult t o r e a d or t e di o us t o c o nt e m pl at e. If " T h e e x e m pl ar was t h e m ast er c o p y fr o m
w hi c h ot h er c o pi es w er e m a d e. G r e at c ar e
t h e s cri b e w er e a m o n k still u n d e r g oi n g st u di es, h e mi g ht w ell b e mi g ht b e t a k e n t h at t h e c o pi es w er e p erf e ct
q u esti o n e d o n t h e t e xt w h e n it was c o m pl et e d. E v e n if h e w er e n ot, i n c o nt e nt, e v er y w or d b ei n g pr o ofr e a d a n d
t h e t hr e at of dis a p pr o v al or p u nis h m e nt h u n g o v er hi m, b e c a us e his e v e n, i n s o m e c as es, d o u bl e- c h e c k e d a g ai nst
its e x e m pl ar. H e n c e a m ost v al u a bl e, i n d e e d
w or k w o ul d b e pr o ofr e a d b y t h e el d ers ( e v e n p er h a ps b y t h e a b b ot). e x e m pl ar y, c o p y.
T o m a k e a n err or was t o c o m mit a si n, f or a n err or m a d e a n d
Plate 6 THE CLOISTER WOR ­
PLACE. The early 12th-century English
illuminator Hugo Pictor, to illustrate St.
Jerome in the act of writing, set the scene
as it w as most fam iliar to himself. St.
Jerome is seated between arches in a
cloister walkway. Only because saints
deserve elevated status is he shown with a
pillow for comfort and fmer-than-
functional seat and work-support. In
England the cloister was, until late in the
M iddle Ages, the scribe’s work center.
Elsewhere in Europe the custom of
establishing a scribe’s room or scriptorium
came into use much earlier. (O xford,
Bodleian Library, M s. Bodley 717, folio
V I recto)
u n c orr e ct e d w o ul d b e c o pi e d a g ai n a n d a g ai n as ot h ers b orr o w e d t h e \f. o w & U m nfr. $ c c U* bi x z x > v ~- h n И 1* М У'
т' Ь и С лггг я н/'- i w' rr-t vzr mifi H'
b o o k. A n err or-fr e e e x e m pl ar was a m o n ast er y’s tr e as ur e, s o u g ht aft er у ^ У л Л х л л тс п х х л-' C ° и f' Vf zrti zst * - V
e v er y w h er e, as O d o w ell k n e w. I n a d diti o n t h e s cri b e, i n his c o p yi n g, , Î U. Ауг о Ъо у с л к - ^i k b a pt*- - v** «)*, w x «
kt- с п а л ■ р л $ ôébf hÆzr вг
h a d t o k e e p as cl os el y as p ossi bl e t o a pr es et s p a ci n g s o t h at his p o r­ y iQ c ( yXt z & k - C ui ct wf *, C o nfi a
ti o n of t h e b o o k w o ul d fit c orr e ctl y i n n u m b er- of- p a g e s e q u e n c e wit h r nr zr u tt* n r c &
c uf e a /
- £*-
р с ф Е г и - di •
t h os e b ei n g c o pi e d b y ot h ers t o pr e c e d e a n d f oll o w it. A n d l ast, if ui ri u r r u \ и З et x b u r j o y n o y ~/"( h
4 r z r u 0 & oii/ V ^ a à a z Îi - О - ^ с н ч - Си п а » ^ ^ - ,
h e b eli e v e d, r eli gi o usl y, i n t h e p o w er of his t as k, h e k n e w t h at his TÇ>ci- Н л / ^ r o • xi n -i ur u v/ Zr viii-тг? m
l a b or wit h p e n w as t h e e q ui v al e nt of a n ot h e r’s wit h s w or d or b att eri n g ^ Л ? л .г &1< Ь э а ./ C o wf c a x. c o nfi ­
e r a cr u v/'■ Qt x n b o Qrzf O 1mz y- A. t(t £f
r a m: his was t h e r es p o nsi bilit y of fi g hti n g t h e D e vil b y m ulti pl yi n g i H.'t ' Olft ^ ô O V M, v » С и / f cl u t t A - p cIt Mf
G o d’s w or ds. N ot wit h o ut r e as o n, t h er ef or e, di d s o m e s cri b es as e arl y -4 1 1 - é S- ^i След. f u O rr z z p& £,ca- > w bi ®
iu3û4 с / '
as t h e 8t h c e nt ur y b e gi n t h eir d a y’s l a b or b y p e n ni n g a bri ef pr a y er, e ptezr o Lx.- p & b C O A- GIfit. ^ pi ûX-^ C A^J
i n t h e c or n er of t h eir first s h e et of p ar c h m e nt, as ki n g f or C h rist’s Ъ о ц л- a o b <“a c;is ei ai u - р а- р л
tf c b p ^ î > e p. <s ci o pf- p A e c Ati
h el p (s e e Pl at e 7). 50
’■ л д р о р г о Ь с о- t ni h, op, pof c. ï w m pi ui-и
It was als o c ust o m ar y f or t h e s cri b e t o j ot d o w n, at t h e e n d of L u C ut éii o р л р л t a , ni. mi r ô
t h e m a n us cri pt, t h e titl e of t h e w or k, o c c asi o n all y t h e pl a c e of c o p yi n g, tt k p'l ô C V p UÇ T U
^.ЛГЙИП. П л и л г к и с д л ^
оt n pr T Tl

a n d e v e n his o w n n a m e. T h e s p a c e at t h e e n d of t h e m a n us cri pt Pl at e 7: T H E S C R I B E’ S P L E A T O
was k n o w n as t h e fi nit ( “ e n d ” i n L ati n), t h e c ol o p h o n ( “ fi nis hi n g H E A V E N . S o g r e at w er e t h e s c ri b e’s
t o u c h ” i n Gr e e k), or e x pli cit ( a n a b br e vi ati o n of t h e L ati n e x pli cit us r es p o nsi biliti es i n t e r m s o f p r o d u cti o n a n d
est li ber, “ t h e b o o k is u n r oll e d,” a p hr as e a p pr o pri at e t o its ori gi n al a c c u r a c y t h at it is u n d e rst a n d a bl e t h at h e
a p p e ar a n c e i n t h e e arl y p a p yr us r olls). 24 I n ti m e t his was e x p a n d e d w o ul d l o o k t o a hi g h e r s o u r c e f o r s u p p o rt.
t o i n cl u d e a n ot ati o n b y t h e s cri b e r e g ar di n g t h e r eli gi o us e nt h usi as m S o, m a n y 9t h - c e nt u r y s c ri b es b e g a n t h eir
wit h w hi c h h e h a d u n d ert a k e n t h e w or k. O n c e t h e pr e c e d e nt h a d d a y’s b o o k p r o d u cti o n b y p e n ni n g a b ri ef
b e e n est a blis h e d, t h e s cri b es c o nsi d er e d t h at s p a c e s uit a bl e f or a n yt hi n g pl e a ( x b, t h e o v e r b a r i n di c ati n g t h at t h e x
t h at c a m e t o mi n d: c o m pl ai nts, pr a y ers, j o k es, s al a d or f a c e cr e a m a n d b w er e a b b r e vi ati o n s — f o r C h rist e
B e n e di c o r “ C h ri st bl ess ” ). ( O xf o r d,
r e ci p es, 97 a m us e m e nts, p u ns, et c. M u c h of w h at we k n o w of s cri b es
B o dl ei a n Li b r a r y, M s. Di g b y 6 3, f oli o 5 1
is d eri v e d fr o m t h eir o w n w or ds i n t h eir e x pli cits.
v e rs o)
P er h a ps a c e nt ur y l at er, a s cri b e j ott e d d o w n t h e f oll o wi n g e x pli cit:
 The art of scribes is hard compared with all other arts
the work is difficult, hard too to bend the neck,
and plough the sheets of parchment for twice three hours.
Ardua scriptorum prae cunctis artibus est:
Difficilis labor est, durus quoque flectere colla,
Et membranas bis ternas sulcare per horas.52

If the pages of a manuscript were large and the te t carefully

written, it is estimated that the scribe’s average speed was two to
four pages daily. With an entire book copied on standard si e sheets,
the average manuscript would have re uired three to four months’
labor. A Bible might involve a year’s work of si hours per day, si
days per week. In the early Middle Ages the scribe was both letterer
and illuminator, in the later days the two tasks were undertaken by
different men. But a particularly fine manuscript complete with colored
initials and miniature art work, done by a single scribe, could well
take several years to complete.4 (As a result, a library did not resemble
anything close to our sense of the word. When Bishop Leofric took
over E eter Cathedral in 1050, he found its library contained only
five books. He almost immediately established a scriptorium of skilled
workers. By the time of his death in 1072, the crew had produced
in the intervening 22 years only si ty si books.85 Similarly, the
Monastery of St. Alban’s recorded that swift work enabled its scribes
to transcribe eighty works during the reign of Henry I. Henry ruled
for 39 years, hence St. Alban’s scriptorium production rate was two
manuscripts a year.)61
 I hope I have not been misleading. Many scribes found oy in ANATHEMA
copying and have left heartfelt e plicits that leave no doubt. But
there was travail in achieving this oy, and many found nothing
other than travail. We cannot know, for instance, how the scribe
meant it, but we can read much into one little notation made by a
late medieval scribe in a margin of a manuscript of Aelfric s De
Temporibus Anni (Cot. Tiberius B. .). He undoubtedly wrote what
thousands of others had felt
od helpe minum handum 77
 THE CARE OF
B O O K S — BESEECHED

Pl e as e w as h y o ur h a n ds / B ef or e t o u c hi n g t his b o o k.
Q uis q uis q u er n t eti g erit / Sit illi l ot a m a n us.
N ot e i n a m a n us cri pt,
M o n ast er y of M o nt e C assi n o
( C at. M o nt e C assi n o, II. 2 9 9) 13

P er h a ps n o o n e w o ul d h a v e a gr e at er i n v est m e nt i n a b o o k t h a n
t h e s cri b e w h os e h o urs of t oil a n d c o n c e ntr ati o n pr o d u c e d it.
R estr ai n e d fr o m v ar yi n g a n i ot a i n t h e c o p yi n g of t h e t e xt, t h e
m e di e v al s cri b e, o n c e it was c o m pl et e d, was fr e e t o us e his o w n w or ds
i n as ki n g t h at his w or k n ot b e f or n a u g ht. W h e n we n ot e t h e fr e e d o m
of t h os e w or ds, his r eli ef a n d a n xi et y ar e q ui c kl y r e v e al e d. A s t h e
s cri b e Fl or e n ci o wr ot e at t h e c o n cl usi o n of his c o p y of a m a n us cri pt
i n 9 4 5:

He w h o k n o ws n ot h o w t o writ e t hi n ks t h at writi n g is n o l a b o ur, b ut

b e c ert ai n, a n d 1 ass ur e y o u t h at it is tr u e, it is a p ai nf ul t as k. It
 e xti n g uis h es t h e li g ht fr o m t h e e y es, it b e n ds t h e b a c k, it cr us h es t h e A N AT HE M A
vis c er a a n d t h e ri bs, it bri n gs f ort h p ai n t o t h e ki d n e ys, a n d w e ari n ess
t o t h e w h ol e b o d y. T h er ef or e, O r e a d er, t ur n y e t h e l e a v es wit h c ar e,
k e e p y o ur fi n g ers f ar fr o m t h e t e xt, f or as a h ail-st or m d e v ast at es t h e
fi el ds, s o d o es t h e c ar el ess r e a d er d estr o y t h e s cri pt a n d t h e b o o k.
K n o w y e h o w s w e et t o t h e s ail or is arri v al at p ort? E v e n s o f or t h e
c o p yist i n tr a ci n g t h e l ast li n e. 79

W hil e m a n y s cri b es p e n n e d t h eir wis h es i n bri ef, s u c h as i n a c o p y

of a m a n us cri pt f or m erl y i n t h e li br ar y of St. Vi ct or,

M a y t his b o o k n e v er c o m e n e ar t h e h a n ds of a ma n w h o d o es n’t
k n o w h o w t o tr e at pr e ci o us b o o ks d e c e ntl y.
Q ui s er v ar e li bris pr e ci osis n es cit h o n or e m
Illi us a m a ni b us sit pr o c ul ist e li b er. 13

m ost, b y di nt of pr of essi o n, w er e n e v er at a l oss f or w or ds. N o r wer e

t h e y, a g ai n b y t h e st a n d ar ds of t h eir o c c u p ati o n, t h e l e ast bit h esit a nt
t o c o p y ot h ers. A w ell-t ur n e d t h o u g ht w as a d mir e d a n d a d o pt e d.
T his fi n e art of t a ki n g a n ot h er m a n’s i d e as a n d cl ai mi n g t h e m as
o n e’s o w n is a n e x a m pl e of t h e diff er e nt attit u d e t h at e xist e d i n t h e
Mi d dl e A g es as c o m p ar e d n ot o nl y wit h t o d a y, b ut wit h t h e Cl assi c al
p eri o d t h at pr e c e d e d it. M e di e v al writ ers f elt t h at all t h e lit er at ur e
t h at e xist e d i n t h eir ti m e was a f u n d of m a n’s k n o wl e d g e, r at h er
t h a n b el o n gi n g t o its i n di vi d u al a ut h ors. A writ er w o ul d b orr o w
fr o m a p ast w or k wit h o ut c ar e or c o n c er n i n cr e diti n g its a u t h o r -
e v e n if h e k n e w w h o it w as — a n d w o ul d t h e n, oft e n, n ot c o nsi d er
it important to sign his own work. Thus the difficulty modern scholars THE CARE OF BOO S BESEECHED 19
have in establishing who wrote what. In the Roman era such a
concept would have been inconceivable. In the legal terminology of
the Empire, the heinous crime of man stealing was known as plagium,
and a person who stole a child or slave, or tried to take a free person
and sell him into slavery, was known as a plagiarius. That Martial
would use such a term in describing the borrowing by one man of
another man’s words as his own indicates how severe a crime it was
considered to be. Plagium, of course, became plagiare in French, and
thus, in English, plagiarism,7' and did not again become a crime until
after the Middle Ages had passed.
With this prevalent attitude toward copying, it is not surprising
that the pleas of scribes over the centuries began to take on a familiar
tone. For instance, Prior Petrus, of the Spanish Monastery of Santo
Domingo de Silos, wrote at his conclusion of the Beatus Commentary
on the Apocalypse, circa 1091 1109 (see Plate 8)

A man who knows not how to write may think this is no great feat.
But only try to do it yourself and you will learn how arduous is the
writer’s task. It dims your eyes, makes your back ache, and knits your
chest and belly together it is a terrible ordeal for the whole body.
So, gentle reader, turn these pages carefully and keep your finger far
from the te t. For ust as hail plays havoc with the fruits of spring,
so a careless reader is a bane to books and writing.
London, British Museum,
Ms. Add. 11,69575
 nnommfr ItitCmcn ptrLtfi ucpfocraaicnf COTiftiu imuiff&n ir
Ltttauf 4 L mCTiiu a a a v m i it’iluf Uni
if uJ litf a u c a c fltu f . Jera llu ommo
u m Y u fa tiic 11 m l'fo fib rtC OfU cnCtMvio
k lfitiO o u.iniinnc.10 Cu Ifitiofo •, ol41ienortn fcifekifcclamchcin
• <• ft v f L v •iifu i'J riu f fftn V u m i'I’ ll i*nui U
L a l o f fctiten caf- Ldc.etunf .T jtc d e fic ia corpofi UU
turf Q m f q u it (K.y iulio<^fc'^i"tfotHtt‘ i'ViY>’ f i i 1 ?
, r i i n o n iliJ ic ^ n ftn tn tm fm tn iif^ u a d r ifIn u K C u o u f ^
in . i 'll .Tfi-X u m i u u i a jp a u i f A1 • Lnt>fo u f’ cftn cu ii o fu a ion tf »
inCrc&Jtin r t a iii( j ln aA n ^ oftliftn cli ijud dodrif fciffu if fittfilufftf

liif ffin a frtxnbu "KHiftni]'u a nfifcia fcttl'Aft1 ia i'cifftn iiu iU m i l

6 c c n m a a e ffe - lia m fiu iL lffc iftfin C ju la a itn n u n a jo c n l'I t|uum W

fu t’ C i*H 1'i-tifi.i.tft' VvMuiuf- v v iU if iu ii.jiiu lu f u f ia ■ iti’tlm u .n I
c u fk a a .c n fa u f Ctuiciutrtln jtunCjlcr-, ffm l?d oL oflin in m ia c a a , A
ftio in t .w \ .< n i f i n t u m i t u ia f ia • |r>en icu iiV ai’f ;iliat‘ fV m f ;i
u irfu Ionc,eiiLicrfr.f dtcnctof crfh f a ia fc ’a c ,fu .n d o M :u n d ic tu a ?
aillut
lamc |iu am fu a
aonf uouiffimuf uerfuf

Plate 8 THE S C R IB E ’S P L E A T O R E A D E R S. When Petros, prior of

the M onastery o f Santo Domingo de Silos, a t last completed his copy of
Beatus’s Commentary on the Apocalypse, he appreciated more than
could anyone else the time and effort that the task had required. So, on
the last page of the manuscript completed c. 1091 -1 1 0 9 , he begged future
readers to treat the book with care, and explained why in no uncertain
terms. (London, The British Library, M s. A d d . 11,695, last page)
 Since this is the second consecutive uote by a scribe who has the CARE OF BOOKS—b e s e e c h e d 21
assured us that life in the medieval secretarial pool left him at death’s
door, an e planation is in order. Researchers who are not calligraphers
can too easily make the assumption that the act of writing was a
physically superhuman task. In reality, the movement of uill upon
vellum is effortless and the act of lettering brings an instantaneous
visual reward. The scribes’ lament of e ternal and internal disasters
was a popular litany appearing at the end of manuscripts at least as
far back as the last uarter of the 3rd century B.C.65 The scribes were
referring to the normal and understandable discomfort of sitting too
long in an uncomfortable position, having to concentrate on material
they may not have been interested in or even understood and the
tensions of fearing to make an error and having to complete a given
work in a specified time.
Or consider this anonymous scribe’s conclusion to the Silos Beatus
in the 12th century

The labour of the writer is the refreshment of the reader. The one
depletes the body, the other advances the mind. Whoever you are,
therefore, do not scorn but rather be mindful of the work of the one
labouring to bring you profit. . . . If you do not know how to write
you will consider it no hardship, but if you want a detailed account
of it let me tell you that the work is heavy it makes the eyes misty,
bows the back, crushes the ribs and belly, brings pain to the kidneys,
and makes the body ache all over. Therefore, O reader, turn the leaves
gently and keep your fingers away from the letters, for as the hailstorm
ruins the harvest of the land so does the unserviceable reader destroy
 the book and the writing. As the sailor finds welcome the final harbour, ANATHEMA 22
so does the scribe the final line. Deo gratias semper.42

If the words are not sufficient, consider the moment itself. Having
finished a long and arduous task, the scribe could have put down
his pen, leaned back, rested his eyes and refreshed himself before
the ne t task at hand. But instead, he chose to stay hunched over
his last vellum leaf to write yet another five or ten lines. Reginbert
is a fine e ample a gentle man, the Abbot of the Monastery of
Reichenau, ermany, he had great affection and pride for the library
in his care, and fre uently added, at the end of the manuscripts he
copied,

In the loving name of od he swears an oath that no one give

this work to anyone from outside unless that person gives his oath
and pledge that he return safe to this house what he has taken.
Dear friend, pay heed to the difficult effort of a scribe. Take me,
open me, read me, do not harm me, close me and put me back.15
Adjurat cunctos Domini per amabile nomen,
Hoc ut nullus opus cuiquam concesserit extra,
Ni prius ille fidem dederit vel denique pignus,
Donee ad has aedes quae accepit salva remittat.
Dulcis amice, gravem scribendi attende laborem:
Tolle, aperi, recita, ne laedas, claude, repone.

Alas, history suggests that his plea was often unheeded.15 And then
there was poor Raoul
 B e car ef ul wit h y o ur fi n g ers; d o n’t p ut t he m o n m y writi n g. Y o u d o T H E C A R E OF B O O KS —B ES E E C H E D 23
n ot k n o w w hat it is t o writ e. It is e xc essi v e dr u d g er y; it cr o o ks y o ur
ba c k, di ms y o ur si g ht, t wists y o ur st o ma c h a n d si des. Pra y, t he n, m y
br ot h er, y o u w h o r ea d t his b o o k, pr a y f or p o or Ra o ul, G o d’s s er va nt,
w h o has c o pi e d it e ntir el y wit h his o w n ha n d i n t he cl oist er of St.
Ai g n a n. 80

H er e w e s e e a n a d d e d el e m e nt. M e ssi n g wit h a s c ri b e’s w o r k is o n e

t hi n g; m essi n g wit h his S u p e ri o r c a n b e s o m et hi n g els e a g ai n. S o m e
s c ri b es, wit h j u stifi a bl e f e r v o r, b r o u g ht t h e Al mi g h t y i nt o t h e pi ct u r e
(s e e Pl at e 9):

(: M o L i u f t s t U i'
Pl at e 9: T H E P L E A R E P E A T E D. T h e
9t h - c e nt u r y F r e n c h s c ri b e W a r e m b e r t, a
p r e d e c ess o r o f P ri o r P et r us, f elt a ki ns hi p
o f st r ai n i n b o o k p r o d u cti o n. W h at g a v e
hi m t h e s e v e r est p o st - p a rt u m bl u es aft e r
A w t cf s oi Li ois w ri ui Di oi Ti m N t ni s u w t o U r ri » A S &i U A ? fi nis hi n g his w e a ri n g t a s k w a s t h e n oti o n
Yc Wl Mf** n u üi 4 T Of & p «r.*r • Cj ui Afl v U C o f a r e a d e r h ol di n g a p a g e o f t h e b o o k
a n d a c ci d e nt all y c r u m pli n g o r ri p pi n g it.
r u m i n a ! >• ¡ »/ c n p wi'ti N w uif'fi m ui* u er-f uf
S o h e t o o k t h e ti m e t o s u g g est t h at o n e’s
m b' a m v ^ \i n - mc u me or y nif Li b or-jr ' O O C R. X C I N S
h a n d s b e k e pt s af el y a b o ut t h e c o v e rs of
t h e b o o k. ( P a ri s, Bi bli ot h è q u e N ati o n al e,
C 5 C o | v O T v o m i > ! c a u # i «j c m » c |i T u S 5 c M p S T * ’ M s. L at. 1 2 2 9 6 )
 A N AT HE M A
Fri e n d w h o r e a ds t his, h ol d y o ur fi n g ers i n b a c k l est y o u s u d d e nl y
bl ot o ut t h e l ett ers; f or a m a n w h o d o es n ot k n o w h o w t o writ e t hi n ks
it is n’t w or k. 38 His l at est li n e is as s w e et t o a writ er as p o rt is t o a
s ail or. T hr e e fi n g ers h ol d t h e p e n, b ut t h e w h ol e b o d y t oils. T h a n ks
b e t o G o d. I W ar e m b ert wr ot e t his i n G o d’s n a m e. T h a n ks b e t o G o d.
A mi c e q ui l e gis, r etr o di gitis t e neas, ne s u bit o litt er as del eas, q ui a ill e h o mo
q ui nescit s cri ber e n ull u m se p ut at ha ber e l a b or e m ; q ui a si c ut na vi g a nti b us
d ul cis est p ort us, it a s cri pt ori n o vissi m us vers us. C al a m us tri b us di gitis
c o nti net ur, t ot u m c or p us l a b or at. De o gr ati as. E g o, i n Dei n o mi ne, V uar e m b ert us
s cri psi. De o gr ati as.
F r o m t h e 9t h c e nt ur y 13' 69 ( or 1 5 2 3) 23 t h e
A b b e y of C or bi e. P aris, Bi bli ot h è q u e
* N ati o n al e, Ms. L at. 1 2 2 9 6

“ T hr e e fi n g ers h ol d t h e p e n b ut t h e w h ol e b o d y t oils ” is p er h a ps
t h e m ost p o p ul ar o c c u p ati o n al s elf- d es cri pti o n i n all s cri b al- e x pli cit
hist or y. It a p p e ars wit h m o n ot o n o us r e g ul arit y i n m a n us cri pts, a n d
c a n b e tr a c e d b a c k t o a G r e e k p a p yr us-r oll c ol o p h o n of t h e 3r d
c e nt ur y B. C. It was s o f a mili ar t o s cri b es t h at it p r o b a bl y was i ns ert e d
al m ost wit h o ut t h o u g ht, as s e e ms t o b e t h e c as e h er e w h er e it o c c urs
n e ar t h e e n d, as t h o u g h it w er e r e m e m b er e d at al m ost t h e l ast m o m e nt.
N or m all y it b e g a n or a p p e ar e d e arl y i n a n e x pli cit, a n d was t h e n
e m p h asi z e d b y t h e f a mili ar list of b o dil y ills. B ut t his is t h e first
e x a m pl e I h a v e s e e n of its a p p e ar a n c e a c c o m p a n yi n g a pl e a t o t h e
r e a d er.
Ot h er s cri b es i n v o k e d t h e pr ot e cti o n of G o d e v e n m or e e x pli citl y.
I n a 1 4t h- c e nt ur y m a n us c ri pt fr o m t h e li br ar y of St. Vi ct or a p p e ars:
 Whoever pursues his studies in this book, should be careful to handle
the leaves gently and delicately, so as to avoid tearing them by reason
of their thinness and let him imitate the e ample of Jesus Christ, who,
when he had uietly opened the book of Isaiah and read therein atten­
tively, rolled it up with reverence, and gave it again to the minister.13

And, more to the point

Take thou a book into thine hands as Simeon the Just took the Child
Jesus into his arms to carry him and kiss him. And when thou hast
finished reading, close the book and give thanks for every word out
of the mouth of od because in the Lord’s field thou has found a
hidden treasure.
T h o m a s a K e m p is to his stu d e n ts13

These words indicate a wider range of concern because they were

not appended by a scribe to a book he had ust copied, but constituted
the teaching of monastic, church, or general community elders. And
such words of guidance in behalf of books spanned centuries and
cultures.
The following words by Rabbi Judahben Samuel Sir Leon Chassid
suggest a grim ac uaintance with the mis purpose to which books
can be put.

Nor shall a man write any accounts upon the pages of a book or
scribble anything on any part of it.
T h e Sefer Chasidon (B o o k o f the
P io u s), R egensburg, G e rm a n y , 1 1 9 0
 He w h o l o v e d a n d d ef e n d e d b o o ks, w h et h er s cri b e or t e a c h er, A N AT HE M A
k n e w t h e p ot e nti al of m a n’s i n c o nsi d er ati o n. Ri c h ar d d e B ur y, t h at
m ost f a m o us b o o k-l o v er a n d c oll e ct or of t h e l at er Mi d dl e A g es, k n e w
e x a ctl y w h at mi g ht h a p p e n. I n t h e P hil o bi bl o n w hi c h was writt e n i n
1 3 4 4 eit h er b y hi m 33' 35> 106 or u n d er his i ns pir ati o n, 103 t h e h orr ors ar e
r e c o u nt e d i n C h a pt e r 1 7 u n d er t h e h e a di n g e ntitl e d O f ha n dli n g b o o ks
i n a cl ea nl y ma n n er a n d kee pi n g t he m i n or der.

W e h ol d t hat it is e x p e di e nt t o e x h ort st u d e nts u p o n vari o us

n e gli g e nci es w hi c h ca n be a v oi d e d b ut w hi c h ar e w o n d erf ull y i nj uri o us
t o b o o ks.
I n t he first pl ace, t he n, l et t her e be a mat ur e d e c or u m i n o p e ni n g
a n d cl osi n g of v ol u mes, t hat t he y ma y n eit h er be u n cl as p e d wit h
pr e ci pit o us hast e, n or t hr o w n asi d e aft er i ns p e cti o n wit h o ut b ei n g d ul y
cl os e d, f or it is n ec ess ar y t hat a b o o k s h o ul d be m uc h m or e car ef ull y
pr es er v e d t ha n a s h oe. B ut s c h o ol f ol k ar e i n g e ner al p er v ers el y e d ucat e d,
a n d if n ot r estr ai n e d b y t he r ul e of t h eir s u p eri ors, ar e p uff e d u p wit h
i nfi nit e a bs ur diti es; t h e y act wit h p et ul a nc e, s well wit h pr es u m pti o n,
j u d g e of e v er yt hi n g wit h c ert ai nt y, a n d ar e u n e x p eri e n c e d i n a n yt hi n g.
Y o u will p er ha ps s ee a stiff- nec ke d y o ut h l o u n gi n g sl u g gis hl y i n his
st u d y, a n d w he n t he wi nt er’s fr ost is s har p, his n os e r u n ni n g fr o m
t he ni p pi n g c ol d dri ps d o w n, n or d o es he t hi n k of wi pi n g it wit h his
p o c k et- ha n d k er c hi ef u ntil he has b e d e we d t he b o o k b ef or e hi m wit h
t he u gl y m oist ur e.
W o ul d t hat he ha d b ef or e hi m n o b o o k b ut a c o b bl er’s a pr o n! His
nails ar e st uff e d wit h f eti d filt h as bl a c k as j et, wit h w hi c h he mar ks
a n y pass a g e t hat pl eas es hi m. He distri b ut es a m ultit u d e of stra ws,
w hi c h he i ns erts t o sti c k o ut i n diff er e nt pl ac es, s o t hat he ma y recall
b y t he mar k w hat his me m or y c a n n ot r et ai n. T h es e stra ws, b eca us e
the book has no stomach to digest them, and which nobody takes
out, at first distend the book from its accustomed closure, and being
carelessly left to oblivion, at last become putrid. He is not ashamed to
eat fruit and cheese over an open book, and to transfer his empty
cup from side to side upon it and because he has not his alms bag
at hand he leaves the rest of the fragments in his books.
Continually chattering, he is never weary of disputing with his
companions, and while he alleges a crowd of senseless arguments, he
wets the book lying open in his lap with sputtering showers. Aye,
and then hastily folding his arms, he leans forward on the book with
his elbows, and by a brief spell of study invites a prolonged nap and
then, by way of mending the wrinkles, he folds back the margin of
the leaves, to the no small detriment of the book.
Now the rain is over and gone, and the flowers have appeared in
our land. Then the scholar we are describing, the neglector rather than
the inspector of books, stuffs his volume with firstling violets, roses
and uadrifoils. He will ne t apply his wet hands to turning over the
volumes, then beat the white parchment all over with his dusty gloves,
and with his finger clad in long used leather will hunt line by line
through the page then at the sting of the biting flea the sacred book
is flung aside, and is hardly shut for another month, until it is so full
of the dust that has found its way within, that it resists the effort to
close it.
Especially, moreover, must we restrain impudent youths from han­
dling books those youths who, when they have learned to draw the
shapes of letters, soon begin, if opportunity be granted them, to be
uncouth scribblers on the best volumes and, where they see some larger
margin about the te t, make a show with monstrous letters and if
any other triviality whatsoever occurs to their imagination, their
unchastened pen hastens at once to draw it out. There the Latinist
 a n d t h e s o p hist er ( o n e w h o p urs u es or tr a ns mits k n o wl e d g e) 65 a n d A N AT HE M A
e v er y u nl e ar n e d s cri b e pr o v es t h e g o o d n ess of his p e n, a pr a cti c e w hi c h
we h a v e s e e n t o b e t o o oft e n i nj uri o us t o t h e b est of b o o ks, b ot h as
c o n c er ns t h eir us ef ul n ess a n d t h eir pri c e.
N o r l et t h e cr yi n g c hil d a d mir e t h e pi ct ur es i n t h e c a pit al l ett ers,
l est h e s oil t h e p ar c h m e nt wit h w et fi n g ers: f or a c hil d i nst a ntl y t o u c h es
w h at e v er h e s e es. M or e o v er, t h e l ait y, w h o l o o k at a b o o k t ur n e d
u psi d e d o w n j ust as if it w er e o p e n i n t h e ri g ht wa y, ar e utt erl y
u n w ort h y of a n y c o m m u ni o n wit h b o o ks.
T h er e ar e als o c ert ai n t hi e v es w h o m a k e t erri bl e h a v o c b y c utti n g
off t h e m ar gi ns f or p a p e r o n w hi c h t o writ e t h eir l ett ers, l e a vi n g o nl y
t h e writt e n t e xt; or t h e y t ur n t o v ari o us a b us es t h e fl yl e a v es w hi c h
ar e b o u n d i n f or t h e pr ot e cti o n of t h e b o o k. T his s ort of s a cril e g e
o u g ht t o b e pr o hi bit e d u n d er p ai n of a n at h e m a.
«

/■ ft î e h ar d, i n mi d­• r a m p a g e,
i n a g o o d c a us e:
It gr e atl y s uits wit h t h e h o n or a bl e b e h a vi or of s c h ol ars t h at s o oft e n
as t h e y r et ur n t o t h eir st u d y aft er e ati n g, a w as hi n g s h o ul d al w a ys
pr e c e d e t h eir r e a di n g. N o r s h o ul d a fi n g er s m e ar e d wit h gr e as e t ur n
o v er t h e l e a v es or l o os e n t h e cl as ps of t h e b o o k.
L et t h e cl er k s e e t o t his als o, t h at n o dirt y s c ulli o n gr e as y fr o m
his p ots a n d y et u n w as h e d s h all t o u c h t h e lili es of t h e b o o ks; b ut h e
t h at w al k et h wit h o ut bl e mis h s h all mi nist er t o t h e pr e ci o us v ol u m es.
A g ai n, a b e c o mi n g cl e a n n ess of h a n ds w o ul d a d d m u c h b ot h t o
b o o ks a n d s c h ol ars, if it w er e n ot t h at t h e it c h a n d pi m pl es ar e m ar ks
of t h e cl er g y. As oft e n as d ef e cts of b o o ks ar e n oti c e d, we m ust q ui c kl y
r u n t o m e n d t h e m; f or n ot hi n g l e n gt h e ns f ast er t h a n a slit, a n d a
r e nt w hi c h is n e gl e ct e d at t h e ti m e . will b e r e p air e d aft er w ar d wit h
us ur y. 19’ ”• 106
 THE VALUE OF BOOKS

W h e n I g et a littl e m o n e y, l b u y b o o ks; a n d if a n y is
l eft, I b u y f o o d a n d cl ot h es.
D esi d eri us Er as m us
( 1 4 6 5 - 1 5 3 6) 23

* * *

[It is] f a r m or e s e e ml y t o h a v e t h y St u di e f ull of

B o o k es, t h a n t h y P urs e f ull of m o n e y.
E u p h u es 43

I n t h e pr e c e di n g c h a pt ers we h a v e s e e n b o o ks v al u e d b e c a us e of
t h e ti m e s p e nt i n t h eir pr o d u cti o n, a n d as r e c e pt a cl es of k n o wl e d g e,
o n w hi c h c o m m o diti es it was diffi c ult t o p ut a pri c e. B ut t h eir v al u e
is e v e n m or e e asil y ass ess e d w h e n o n e e x a mi n es h o w m e di e v al m a n
d e alt wit h his f ell o ws w h e n it c a m e t o his b o o ks.
N o m att er h o w f ar b a c k o n e r e a ds i n t h e lit er at ur e of t h e Mi d dl e
A g es, o n e fi n ds a p assi o n f or b o o ks; r e a d ers a n xi o usl y s o u g ht a n yt hi n g
writt e n o n s u bj e cts t h at i nt er est e d t h e m. 67 T h os e w h o c o ul d c o p y
b o o ks di d s o, r e g ar dl ess of t h e c ostli n ess of p ar c h m e nt. If f or s o m e
r e as o n t h e b u y er c o ul d n ot m a k e a c o p y hi ms elf, h e mi g ht p a y f or
t h e a v er a g e b o o k i n his ti m e w h at a c oll e ct or p a ys t o d a y f or a r ar e
volume, finely bound.80 et it is ironic what a small percentage of ANATHEMA

the book’s cost went to the copier. The medieval scribe, even self
employed, usually received little pay for his work. The ma or portion
of the book’s e pense was material (inks, brushes, paints, sheet and
ground gold, vellum) and binding, covers, clasps, etc. In 1384, for
instance, the illuminating materials and the illuminator’s fee consti­
tuted five si ths of the cost of Abbot Litlington’s Missal.81 The
illuminator’s fee and, even more so, the scribe’s fee (after the early
Middle Ages, speciali ation had set in and seldom were the two obs
done by the same person) were relatively insignificant sums. The
average scribe in the later Middle Ages, for instance, had to work
three to seven days for the sum earned in one day by a common
foot soldier slogging through Scotland in ing Edward’s army.14
At the end of the 15th century, even the advent of printing did
little to reduce a book’s price. It was more of a saving to buy
parchment or paper, inks, etc., and copy a book than to purchase
even a second hand printed copy.10 To build a good library, therefore,
whether by purchase or copying, was enormously e pensive. Credit
Abbot Marchwart, of the Abbey of Corvey in North ermany, with
a good idea he made it a rule, when he was in charge late in the
11th century, that every novice who decided to oin the abbey per­
manently must contribute a book to its library.73 Abbot Raphael de
Marcatellis, on the other hand, couldn’t leave something that im­
portant to others. His solution proved that building a good library
could be in urious to one’s health. The head of St. Bavon’s Abbey
in hent (1437 1508), he spent so much attention on and diverted
so much of the monastery’s funds for the library that the upkeep
o f th e m o n a s te r y su ffe re d , a s b e c a m e p a in f u lly o b v io u s o n e d a y w h e n THE ALUE OF BOO S 31
th e d o r m it o r y r o o f fe ll in .20
It is e tremely difficult to report, in contemporary terms and/or
contemporary coin of the realm, the price of a medieval book. First,
a book’s value at a given figure really depends on how hard one
has to work to earn it, or what else one could buy for the price of
the book. Second, surviving accounts of the value of books usually
were written because the cost was so unusually high that it was worth
mentioning. So e isting reports invariably concern the most e pensive.
But a general feeling for books’ value can be ac uired from a few
odd historical notes.
A Bible often represented a greater sum than the entire yearly
income of a priest, and so very few priests were known to possess
copies.14 A parish priest in France in 1470, who felt compelled to
own an antiphonary, paid a sum e ual to the cost of 160 bushels
of wheat.93 Few could ever hope to own a newly printed utenberg
Bible, for it cost roughly the e uivalent of more than a do en well
fed cattle or the title to a house in town.40 Another account states
that the average bound book of vellum pages at the end of the
Middle Ages had a price tag e uivalent to a month’s wages paid to
an average Neapolitan court official.10 In 1331 ing Edward III paid
the e uivalent of eighty o en for an illuminated volume.24
Those who could not afford to pay in cash for books resorted to
barter. A erman nun, Diemude of Wessobrunn, penned a Bible
which she traded, in 1057, for a farm.68 An inscription in Latin
written early in the 9th century establishes that the book in which
it appears, the Gospel Book of St. Chad, written perhaps a century
 e arli er, was t a k e n i n tr a d e f or t h e o w n er’s b est h ors e. 2 W h e n a w or k A N A T H E M A! 32
o n c os m o gr a p h y b y B e n et Bis c o p was a d mir e d b y Ki n g Alfr e d, t h e
a ut h or tr a d e d it t o hi m f or ei g ht hi d es of l a n d, 43 pr o p ert y s uffi ci e nt
i n si z e t o s u p p ort ei g ht f a mili es.* 78 T h e C o u nt ess of A nj o u s o m u c h * A hi d e h as als o b e e n d es cri b e d as t h e
w a nt e d a c o p y of t h e H o mili es of Hai m o n, Bis h o p of Hal b erst a dt, t h at a m o u nt of l a n d a m a n c o ul d k e e p till e d i n a
y e ar, 53 b ut it is r e all y u n c ert ai n w h at is
s h e g a v e 2 0 0 s h e e p, fi v e q u art ers of w h e at a n d fi v e q u art ers of r y e. 33 m e a nt, si n c e its d efi niti o n v ari e d i n E n gl a n d
W h e n Willi a m d e L o n g c h a m p, w h o l at er b e c a m e Bis h o p of El y i n fr o m c o u nt y t o c o u nt y. 58
1 1 9 0, wis h e d t o r ais e f u n ds t o c o ntri b ut e t o t h e r a ns o m d e m a n d e d
f or t h e r et ur n t o E n gl a n d of Ri c h ar d Li o n h e art, h e di d n’t p a w n a
c astl e; h e p ut u p t hirt e e n c o pi es of t h e G os p els. A n d i n t h e llt h' °
or 1 2t h c e nt ur y 39 a Miss al w as k n o w n t o h a v e b e e n tr a d e d f or a
vi n e y ar d. 10' 33 P er h a ps t h e gr e at est tr a d e off er e d f or a b o o k was t h at
m a d e b y a B a v ari a n offi ci al, w h o pr o mis e d a m o n asti c c o m m u nit y
t h e o w n ers hi p of a n e ntir e t o w n (i n eff e ct, t h e r e v e n u es fr o m it, i n
p er p et uit y) i n e x c h a n g e f or a si n gl e m a n us cri pt. Aft e r m u c h c o nsi d­
er ati o n t h e off er was r ej e ct e d, a n d n ot b e c a us e it w as n’t a f air e x c h a n g e.
T h e m o n ks k n e w t h at t h e offi ci al c o ul d t a k e b a c k t h e t o w n a n y ti m e
h e w a nt e d t o —a n d p r o b a bl y w o ul d. 54
P e o pl e w er e, lit er all y, willi n g t o gi v e t h eir li v es f or b o o ks. A n
E n glis h s c h o ol m ast er, G e offr e y, li vi n g n e ar t h e M o n ast er y of St.
Al b a n’s, b orr o w e d s o m e b o o ks fr o m t h at i nstit uti o n i n t h e l at e 1 2t h
c e nt u r y — a n d w at c h e d i n a bs ol ut e h or r or as t h e y w er e d estr o y e d
w h e n his h o m e w e nt u p i n fl a m es. A s p a y m e nt h e off er e d t o b e c o m e
a m o n k f or t h e r est of his lif e. 40 I n 1 5 2 5 i n T o ul o us e, a s c h ol ar’s
b o o ks w er e b u r n e d a n d t h e c ul prits w er e t h er ef or e c o n d e m n e d t o
h a n g. 47 I n s o m e c o m m u niti es t o w ar d t h e e n d of t h e Mi d dl e A g es,
t h e p e n alt y f or b o o k t h eft was d e at h. 15 A n d it w as n ot a n i dl e t hr e at.
John Leycestre and his wife Cecilia were hung for stealing a book THE ALUE OF BOO S 33

from Stafford church.43

When books were borrowed, pledges were taken, and if a book
was not returned, there was hell to pay. In Poland, in the Renaissance,
it was not unusual for the borrower to be taken to court.95 When
a book was purchased, therefore, it is understandable that it involved
as much legal fuss as if the transaction had involved a house or
land.91 In fact, in the 14th century, the person selling the book, to
prove (a) that he owned it and (b) that it was a copy free of error
and unabridged, offered as a pledge not only all his worldly goods,
but himself as well (tows et chacun de ses biens, et guarantie de son corps
metne), and the pledge was witnessed by not one but two notaries.71
Should the owner of a book fall upon hard times, he might be
stripped of many things, but Jewish law from the 11th century onward
forbade his being deprived of his book or books. The only e ception
was the case of a school teacher, who could sei e his te tbook.70
With this in mind we can see why, when a man died, he neither
forgot to mention his books in his will nor simply mentioned their
gift en masse to a friend or relative, as we might do today. In the
Middle Ages, a book might not only be willed to a friend, but
instructions might be included concerning who the book should go
to after the friend’s demise.80
The chamberlain to Pope Paul I , Ulric Fugger of Augsburg, was
so partial to books that he spent enormous sums in their behalf
so much so that his relatives went to court and had him declared
incapable of managing his own affairs. Whether it was because his
books were taken away, or simply because he could not buy another,
I cannot tell but the result was that, in 1584, he died of melancholy.43 ANATHEMA
His had been an e tensive passion, but even the man who wanted
only one book had sufficient reason to be melancholy about affording
it. Wrote Robert Copland in the early 1500s

A peny I trow is ynough on bokes

It is not so soone goten, as this worlde lokes.
By saynt Mary I cannot tell the brother
Money ever goeth for one thyng or for other.
od helpe my fryende, this worlde is harde &. kene
They that have it wyll not let it be sene.
Seven Sorrows that Women have
when theyr husbandes be deade3

But, ah, to have a beautiful book enriched the soul. John Skelton,
the poet and tutor to Henry III, wrote upon seeing the books around
him,

With that of boke lo ened diamond shaped were the clasps,

The margin was illumined with golden railes lines ,
Embiced using blue or green pigment and pictured with
grasshoppers and waspes,
And butterflies and fresh peacocks’ tailes
Englo ed gla ed or made shining with pictures well touched
and uickly,
It wold have made a man hole that had right to be sickly italics
mine .34
What had apparently moved him, as it does all of us when we are THE ALUE OF BOO S 35
fortunate enough to first see an original e ample of such workmanship,
was an illuminated manuscript probably a Book of Hours.
How could such treasures, priceless in terms of labor, purchase
value, content, and esthetics, be protected The answer was by
anathemas.
 THE CARE OF
BOOKS — DECREED

If a b o o k h as f all e n t o t h e gr o u n d, a n d at t h e s a m e
ti m e s o m e m o n e y or a s u m pt u o us g ar m e nt h as f all e n
als o, h e s h all first pi c k u p t h e b o o k. If a fir e br e a ks
o ut i n his h o us e, h e s h all first r es c u e his b o o ks, a n d
t he n his ot h er pr o p ert y. N or s h all h e e v er t hi n k t he
ti m e s p e nt u p o n att e n di n g t o b o o ks w ast e d; a n d e ve n
if h e fi n ds a b o o k s o f ull of err ors a s t h at c orr e cti o n
of t h e m w o ul d b e us el ess, he s h all n ot d estr o y t he
b o o k, b ut pl a c e it i n s o m e o ut- of-t h e- w a y c or n er.
S ef er C h assi d o n, R e g e ns b ur g,
G er m a n y, 1 1 9 0 2’

T h e s cri b es w h o c o pi e d b o o ks b e g g e d r e a d ers t o t a k e c ar e; el d ers

l e ct ur e d o n a n d wr ot e a b o ut t h e v al u e of b o o ks. B ut t h e c o n c er n
w e nt d e e p er, t o t h e e xt e nt t h at t h e c ar e of b o o ks b e c a m e p art of
t h e R ul e ( o p er ati n g r e g ul ati o ns) of m a n y m o n ast eri es. T h e f oll o wi n g
of t h es e pr e c e pts h a d a n eff e ct n ot o nl y u p o n t h e p h ysi c al a p p e ar a n c e
o f the m o n a s ti c c o m m u n it y, b ut may eve n h a v e i n fl u e n c e d t h e i r T HE C A R E OF B O O KS — D E C R E E D 37
d r e s s.
E arl y m o n asti c c o m m u niti es oft e n c e nt er e d a b o ut t all st o n e t o w ers
b uilt t o pr ot e ct t h e m ost pr e ci o us it e ms: m o n ks, of c o urs e, a n d t h eir
b o o ks (s e e Pl at e 1 0). Wit h t h e est a blis h m e nt of l ar g er c o m m u niti es
a n d t h er ef or e m or e c o m pl e x str u ct ur es, li br ari es w er e est a blis h e d. We
m ust k e e p i n mi n d t h at a si z a bl e c oll e cti o n mi g ht r a n g e fr o m t w o
t o t w e nt y v ol u m es. T h e li br ar y of tr e as ur es br o u g ht t o E n gl a n d b y
St. A u g usti n e i n 5 9 7 c o nsist e d of o nl y ni n e b o o ks. 61 T h e f a m o us
1 2t h- c e nt ur y t e a c h er B er n ar d of C h artr es o w n e d o nl y 2 4 b o o ks at
t h e ti m e of his d e at h. 14 T h e R o y al Li br ar y of P aris c o nt ai n e d o nl y
f o ur cl assi cs i n t h e 1 4t h c e nt ur y. 61 Ri c h ar d of L o n d o n, a n a b b ot of
P et er b or o u g h i n t h e 1 3t h c e nt ur y, h a d a pri v at e li br ar y of t e n b o o ks. 43
At t h e s a m e ti m e i n all E n gl a n d, t h er e w er e f e w er b o o ks t h a n i n
t h e a v er a g e li br ar y i n 1 9 3 3,!il a n d t h e li br ar y of O xf o r d U ni v ersit y
c o nsist e d of a f e w b o o ks k e pt i n a c h est u n d er St. M ar y’s C h u r c h. 61
T h e li br ar y of C a m b ri d g e U ni v ersit y, r e m ar k a bl e f or its 1 2 2 b o o ks
i n 1 4 2 4, l a b or e d f or a h alf- c e nt ur y t o i n cr e as e t h e n u m b er t o 3 3 0.' °
T h e e v ol uti o n of a n ci e nt a n d m e di e v al li br ari es is a si z a bl e st u d y
i n its elf. I n si m pl est t er ms, a li br ar y c o nsist e d of a b o x or tr u n k i n
w hi c h b o o ks w er e st a c k e d (s e e Pl at es 11 a n d 1 2). I n t h e Mi d dl e A g es,
it b e c a m e p o p ul ar t o st or e b o o ks i n a w o o d e n c a bi n et, n ot wit hi n
a p arti c ul ar b uil di n g b ut al o n g t h e cl oist er w al k w a y. S o c ust o m ar y
was t his t h at o n e m a y still s e e t o d a y t h e r e c ess e d ar e a of st o n e wall
i n w hi c h s u c h a c a bi n et c ust o m aril y st o o d i n s o m e m o n ast eri es. Wit hi n
it t h e b o o ks w er e us u all y k e pt o n t h eir si d es, n ot st a n di n g, a n d wit h
t h eir s pi n es t o w ar d t h e b a c k of t h e s h elf b e c a us e t h e y w er e c o nsi d er e d
Plate 10 SAFET FOR T H E S O U R C E . If books were o f value, those who
produced them were no less prized. Com pleting a Beatus Commentary a t the
Monastery of San Salvador de T a b a ra in Spain in 970, the scribe and
illuminator Emeterius illustrated himself a t work, his assistant Senior seated
across from him, and another assistant behind him, in the next room, cutting
a parchment. A ll are on the second floor o f a monastic tower building under
m axim um security 105 bells can signal the alarm if an enemy appears, and
ladders can be pulled up to deter access. This illustration w as the model for
a picture produced in 1220 in the Commentarius super Apocalypsum of
Beatus o f Liebana, produced at the Cistercian convent of L as Huelgas near
Burgos, Spain (N ew York, The Pierpont M organ Library, Ms. 429, folio 183;
see Drogin, Medieval Calligraphy, Plate 1). (M ad rid , Archivo Historico
N acional, C od. /0978, folio 168)
more important to safeguard than the edges o f the pages, which faced THE CARE OF BOO S DECREED 39
the door. If a book was marked with its title, the title was occasionally
penned across the surface o f the ends o f the pages, or burned into
the edges with a hot iron.114
Books were not only bound for their protection, but further
precautions were taken. Couchers and legers, because o f their weight,
could have their covers damaged when slid along a table. Because
they rested on their back covers, the covers were given small legs
(called noduli)107 so that the back covers were kept clear o f the surface.
Because the leaves o f books were vellum, and vellum left unconfined
may buckle, it was advisable for books to be kept firmly closed, so
each was often supplied with a clasp (called a signaculum).107 M inor
details, perhaps, but not overlooked by high Church officials whose
task it was to visit area monasteries and churches to make certain
that all was well. Returning in 1519 from a visit to ork Minster,
one such official reported unhappily that

we fynde grete neclygense o f ye d econ s an d clerkis o f ye vestre yt the

m esbuke M issale is n o t clasped, w hereby a fayre b o k e is nye lost.107

O ddly enough, few monastic rules mention or dictate, as part of
community life, the production of books. The Rule o f St. Benedict,
in fact, orders no books to be copied but suggests it only by inference.*
et almost every Rule, regardless o f its length, is devoted in significant
part to the caring for books.
T h e library shall be in the keep in g o f the cantor. . . . W hen he is
away, the succentor sub can tor if he shall be fit fo r the office, shall
*It is obvious that the monks were intended
to be involved in writing for, in a chapter
discussing the fact that all possessions are the
property of the community as a whole, ap­
pears the phrase whether book or tablets or
pen or whatever it may be . . St. Bene­
dict discussed manual labor at length it is
believed that he did not single out writing
and copying because he considered it part of
normal manual labor.
 ANATHEMA 40

Plate 11 THE P R E -M E D IE V A L
LIBRARY. Before the creation of the
codex (or book in the form we recognize
it today) books consisted o f long rolls of
papyrus. In this manuscript c. 4 5 0 -5 0 0 ,
the author is shown seated between his
desk and his library, a box capable of
being securely latched, and holding what
we may presume is a copy of the book in
which this illustration appears. Romans
with larger libraries constructed shelving
so that rolls could be placed to rest in
pigeon-holes. (Rome, Biblioteca Apostólica
V aticana, M s. V at. Lat. 3867, folio 3
verso)

keep the library keys but should he be giddy and light minded, he
shall give them to the prior or sub prior.
Customary of the Monastery of Abingdon13

Whoever had charge of the case, or press, of books might easily

become giddy simply from the responsibility. Books were often the
community s most treasured belongings comple rules e isted re­
garding the loaning of books to and regaining them from the monks,
who were often ordered to become familiar with specific te ts through
Pl at e 1 2: T H E M E D I E V A L E X E M P L A R A N D
LI B R A R Y. S o v al u a bl e w er e b o o ks i n t h e Mi d dl e A g e s
t h at m or e t h a n o n e c o nstit ut e d a si z a bl e c oll e cti o n; a
li b r a r y o f b o o ks t h er ef or e mi g ht b e n o l a r g e r t h a n — a n d
u s u all y w a s — a c a bi n et o r s m all tr u n k. O f g r e at est
v al u e a n d m ost us e w a s a c o p y k n o w n t o b e f r e e o f
err or, f o r it c o ul d b e r eli a bl y us e d a s t h e e x e m pl a r
f r o m w hi c h t o m a k e a d diti o n al c o pi es. L at e i n t h e
Mi d dl e A g e s, P hili p t h e G o o d, r ul e r o f t h e N et h e r ­
l a n d s, e m pl o y e d a p r of essi o n al c alli g r a p h e r, J e a n Mi e -
l ot, s h o w n h er e i n a s c e n e b y c o nt e m p o r a r y ill u mi n at o r
J e a n l e T a v e r ni e r o f Br u g es. N ot e t h e e x e m pl a r s af el y
p ositi o n e d a b o v e t h e w o r k -t a bl e a n d h el d i n a n o p e n
p ositi o n, a n d t h e “ li b r a r y " b e hi n d t h e s c ri b e's c h ai r. If
t h e w o r k a r e a s e e ms u n c o m m o nl y c o mf o rt a bl e, r e m e m ­
b er t h at t his t e as n ot a m o n a sti c s c ri b e, a n d t h e “ r e ­
w a r d s " w er e n ot p o st - d at e d t o t h e H e r e aft e r. ( B r u ss els,
Bi bli ot h e q u e R o y al e Al b e rt 1, M s. 9 2 7 8 - 8 0, f oli o 1 0
r e ct o)
out a given year. For the Carthusian monks, a Benedictine offshoot ANATHEMA
that w as established in 1084, the matter was clearly spelled out

Moreover he receives two books out of the press for reading. He is

admonished to take the utmost care and pains that they be not soiled
by smoke or dust or dirt of any kind for it is our wish that books,
as being the perpetual food of our souls, should be most ealously
guarded, and most carefully produced, that we, who cannot preach the
word of od with our lips, may preach it with our hands.13

eeping after the monks was one thing, but the librarian had
wider duties that posed greater danger

The precentor cannot sell, or give away, or pledge any books nor can
he lend any e cept on deposit of a pledge, of e ual or greater value
than the book itself. It is safer to fall back on a pledge, than to proceed
against an individual. Moreover he may not lend e cept to neighboring
churches, or to persons of conspicuous worth.
Customs of the Benedictine Monastery
of Abingdon, late 12th century13

While the day was laid out to allow time for the reading of books
(indeed, Rules stipulated that when monks were busy at other tasks,
such as dining, books would be read to them), and the physical
layout accommodated the production and storing of books, a similar
concern may have played a role in their dress. The long sleeves of
monks’ habits were so designed, it is said, either to cover their hands
as a sign of humility, or to suggest that the monks’ purpose in life
was contemplation rather than physical labor hence a sleeve unhandy THE CARE OF BOO S DECREED 43
for one who needed the freedom to use his hands. But one law
suggests the possibility of another reason

When the religious are engaged in reading in cloister or church, if it

be possible, they shall hold the books on their left hands, wrapped
in the sleeve of their tunics and resting on their knees. Their right
hands shall be uncovered with which to hold and turn the leaves of
their books.
The Traditio eneralis Capituli
of the Benedictines of England31

Brother Leot of Novara, having completed the copying of a te t

in the 10th century, was not concerned with which hand the reader
used, as long as it was clean. Nor was he concerned about whether
the reader sat or stood. Actually, he preferred that the reader not
touch his book at all. Faced with the inevitable, however, Leot
suggested the book be nestled in a protective layer of clothing (either
the sleeve or another loose portion of the habit)

Reader, turn the leaves gently, wash your hands, and if you must hold
the book, cover it with your tunic.26

In similar fashion, the invention of the handkerchief led to

instructions regarding books. When Italian monks ob ected to hand­
kerchiefs as an effeminate accouterment, the monastic regulations of
Monte Casino (established by St. Benedict) were amended to make
a special ruling allowing their use not only for the e pected purpose,
Pl a t e 1 3: T H E B O O K P R O T E C T E D. A m a n u s c ri pt u >as
v al u a bl e a n d w a s t h e r ef o r e i n v a ri a bl y p r ot e ct e d b y a h a r d
c o v er. B ut t h e o w n er’s c o n c er n oft e n w e nt f u rt h e r: a cl a s p t o
h ol d t h e b o o k s e c u r el y cl os e d, a n d o c c a si o n all y e v e n “ f e et, ” o r
a st u d a t e a c h c o m e r o f t h e b a c k o f t h e b o o k s o t h at, w h e n
it l a y o n a t a bl e, t h e b o o k its elf w o ul d b e f r e e o f t h e s u rf a c e.
A si m pl e r a n d m or e f u n cti o n al p r ot e cti o n w as t h e c h e mis e, a
cl ot h c o v er t h at n ot o nl y w r a p p e d its elf s e c u r el y a b o ut t h e
b o o k, b ut e xt e n d e d f a r e n o u g h b e y o n d t h e b o o k t o b e ti e d i n
a k n ot a n d sli p p e d b e n e at h o n e’s b elt s o t h at t h e b o o k c o ul d
b e t a k e n a b o ut wit h o ut f e a r o f l oss. ( T h e B ei n e c k e Li b r a r y,
Y al e U ni v e rsit y; T h e M et r o p olit a n M u s e u m o f A r t, Ne w
Y o r k)
but also for wrapping around the manuscripts which the brethren THE CARE OF BOO S DECREED 45
handle, according to the Cat. Monte Cassino, II.299.13 Other mon­
asteries also re uired their inhabitants to hold their books in a sleeve
or wrapped in a handkerchief.80 Such wrapping was so sensible that
occasionally books were bound in such a way that they could be
wrapped in their own covers. The large covers not only could be
folded over the front of a book, but were e tended above the top
of the book to such a length that the end could be tied in a knot.
By slipping this knot under one’s belt, a book could easily be carried
about. A binding of that sort was called a chemise (see Plate 13).37
The term today refers to a small portfolio that protects but is not
an integral part of the book.58 But in the Middle Ages it was part
of the book itself and popular not only as a protective measure but
as a means of easily keeping a treasured possession safely at hand.
This is clear, for instance, from the wording of a portion of a late
15th century will in which a doting father ordered

that my doughter lady ffit hugh have a boke of gold, enameled, that
was my wiffes, whiche she was wounte to were wear .107

Poor Lady Ffit hugh and ffolk like Ffawkes and Llewellyn and
Lloyd all suffered from typesetters’ misunderstanding. In gothic times
the capitals F and L were designed with each repeated to give the
finished capital letter form more strength. When printing came into
vogue the handwritten capitals were misinterpreted as FF and LL
instead of F and L, and therefore were set in type as Ff and LI.
 A N A TH EM A !

I a m t he g u ar di a n of t he l ett ers. . . . K e e p off.

1 st c e nt ur y 83

S o pr e ci o us w er e b o o ks i n t h e Mi d dl e A g es t h at a n y m e as ur e
t a k e n t o pr ot e ct t h e m was w el c o m e d. O n c e a b o o k h a d b e e n
pr o d u c e d, it was c ar ef ull y c at al o g u e d a n d l o c k e d i n a s e c ur e pl a c e,
wit h t h e k e ys k e pt b y a m ost r es p o nsi bl e offi ci al. M o n asti c c o m m u nit y
r e g ul ati o ns s p e cifi e d i n d et ail h o w b o o ks w er e t o b e g u ar d e d, w h o
was t o b e r es p o nsi bl e f or t h e m, h o w t h e r e a d er was t o b orr o w t h e m,
a n d t h e pr o c e d ur e f or t h eir r et ur n aft er a s p e cifi e d a m o u nt of ti m e.
T o l o a n a b o o k t o s o m e o n e o utsi d e t h e m o n ast er y w alls was c o nsi d er e d,
b y s o m e, e q ui v al e nt t o t hr o wi n g it a w a y. If a b o o k h a d t o b e l o a n e d,
a h e a v y pl e d g e was pl a c e d a g ai nst it. B ut n o pl e d g e, t o s o m e, c o ul d
c o m p e ns at e f or t h e l oss of a b o o k, a n d s e v er al c o m m u niti es p ass e d
stri ct l a ws pr o hi biti n g a n y l o a n u n d e r a n y cir c u mst a n c es. 71
O utsi d e t h e m o n asti c w alls, t h e b o o k was n o l ess v al u e d. Wit h
t h e ris e of u ni v ersiti es a n d a h ei g ht e n e d lit er a c y r at e i n t h e l at er
Mi d dl e A g es, t h e cl assi c al c o n c e pt of s c h o ol a n d p u bli c li br ari es was
r ei ntr o d u c e d. B ut s o pr e ci o us w er e t h e f e w b o o ks i n a n y li br ar y’s
 collection that each was protected by rules and regulations. Richard ANATHEMA! 47
de Bury, although familiar with what could happen to books, donated
some to Oxford University—but demanded that, in return, it be
firm policy that no book could be loaned out unless a duplicate
copy was safely shelved.43 To many people even this was insufficient,
and it became customary in many libraries to secure each book to
the shelf or reading table with heavy lengths of unbreakable chain.
The notion of a “ lending library” was in most cases inconceivable.
But how does one find the ultimate protection for a book? Any
book can be stolen and, even if it is chained to a desk, what can
protect it from smudges, stains, unwelcome notations or, most tragic,
the ripping out of a particularly interesting page? Medieval man had
the ultimate solution: he who had placed his existence in the hands
of the Almighty decided that there was room there for his books as
well. And so they were placed under God’s protection—a Librarian
few if any would be foolhardy enough to cross.
The concept of placing an inanimate object under the protection
of a diety must be as old as man’s first acquaintance with or creation
of his god(s). From the first, that relationship established gods with
powers over man, and man asking their aid and protection. Surely
one of the earliest requests was that man be aided and protected
not only from Nature and Fate, but from a most dangerous enemy—
his fellow man. A religious man was the stronger for the gods to
whom he prayed, and could threaten others or be protected from
others with the gods’ power. Hence the concept of a curse may be
as old as religion itself. And if man sought protection during his
lifetime, he was known to have sought it as well for his mortal
 ANATHEMA! 48

Plate 14: A C U R SE FO R A C O F F IN .

fflwM>^ y ■* -4 m A
A
i 7-
5 i'
M an ’s ability to threaten his fellow man
with the awesome power of his gods has

^Wf*W***%\7
tUr!- been a benefit of religion since the most
.. * t ancient of times. O u r ancestors may have
thought to place G o d ’s curse on their books
-v . .•
-> “1 r T T 7 7),7
because they had even earlier been
U
« k* ^ ^ ^ A‘ > > accustomed to placing G o d ’s curse on
something they valued even more —
^ /w ^ e r-g o
WlV, ■- / themselves. In the 4th century B.C., the king
> r' ( * '- • l u x '* A LXf * ..... ...VI. W o f Sidon departed this vale with a curse
not upon his lips, but upon his coffin.
(Courtesy of the Istanbul Arkeoloji
Muzelen, Istanbul, Turkey)
t
remains when his life’s span ended. Curses laid against the desecration
of burial sites are known from the most ancient times; those of the
pharaohs of Egypt are a case in point. Less familiar, but most eloquent,
is that of a king of Sidon (see Plate 14), who died about 350 B.C.
and upon whose coffin, now in the Istanbul Arkeoloji Muzelen, is
inscribed

I, Tabnith, priest of Ashtart, King of the Sidonians, son of Eshmun-

azar, priest of Ashtart, king of the Sidonians, lie in this coffin. My
 1

curse be with whatever man thou art that bringest forth this coffin! ANATHEMA! 49
Do not, do not open me, nor disquiet me, for I have not indeed silver,
1 have not indeed, gold, nor any jewels of . . . only 1 am lying in this
coffin. Do not, do not open me, nor disquiet me, for that thing is an
abomination to Ashtart. And if thou do at all open me, and at all
disquiet me, mayest thou have no seed among the living under the
sun nor resting place among the shades!56

Two thousand years later, William Shakespeare caused to be

engraved on his tomb at Stratford-on-Avon:

GOOD FREND FOR IESVS SAKE FORBEARE,

TO D1GG THE DVST ENCLOASED HEARE:
BLESE BE | MAN \ SPARES THES STONES,
AND CVRST BE HE \ MOVES MY BONES.56

Of course, man was concerned with his own remains before thought
of his books occurred. At any rate, the idea of protecting what was
his with the vengeance of God was not a new concept when man
reached a stage in which he had books and worried about them.
Historians suggest that the idea of book curses originated with
Eastern manuscripts. The ingredients for godly intervention certainly
existed from the very beginning of writing. Perhaps without exception,
every civilization which created for itself a form of writing felt that
the skill had originated as a direct gift from superhuman sources.
We who are so accustomed to reading cannot truly comprehend the
awe with which early man viewed his new-found ability to take the
spoken word and make it (a) visible, (b) capable of storage, and (c) ANATHEMA! 50
able to be spoken again at any future time. Because the magical art
of writing was a gift from his god(s), and because only the most-
educated of men could comprehend it—and they were the priests—
the earliest writings were invariably religious; the sacred and most-
holy secret writings of that civilization. As such they were kept in
the temple and protected by the gods.
What may well be the oldest such curse we know is now almost
6,000 years old. I say may be because it protected the temple’s “ library”
only by implication (see Plate 15). The curse was inscribed on the
temple’s door socket (now in the museum of the University of
Pennsylvania) by order of Sargon I, who ruled Nippur, in Babylon,
c. 3800 B.C.:

Shargani-shar-ali {Sargon}, son of Itti-Bel, the mighty King of Accad

and the dominion of Bel, the builder of Ekur, the Temple of Bel in
Nippur. Whoever removes this inscribed stone, may Bel and Shamash
tear out his foundation and exterminate his posterity.*56 *Bel, perhaps more familiar as Ba’al, was the
Father of the Gods; Shamash, the Sun God,
was also considered the embodiment of Jus­
A nasty prospect to imagine one’s foundation being torn out, let tice.”
alone having one’s posterity exterminated. Actually, the curse may
have been as deadly as it was sincere. The record is confusing, but
when King Nabonidas ordered excavation work for renovations 3,450
years later, it may have been at the site of this same temple. If indeed
it was—and if he disturbed the foundation—it is interesting to note
that Nabonidas was the last king of Babylon.
About 3,000 years after Sargon I had cursed his way into history,
a similar custodial concern was offered in behalf of Darius, one of ANATHEMA! 51

the kings of ancient Persia. Carved in rock at Behistun is the following

inscription:

Thus saith Darius the King: If thou seest this panel or these figures
and destroyest them, . . . may Ahuramazda smite thee, may thy family
come to nothing; whatever thou doest, may Ahuramazda destroy it.*32 • “Ahuramazda” means the Wise Lord or Good
Spirit.”
The ancients had a refreshing way of wasting few words while
simultaneously expressing ultimate concepts.
While collections of Egyptian religious writings can be found as
far back as 3200 B.C., they are no older than the Egyptian belief in
Thoth, the god who created writing. All books, and consequently
all temple libraries, were under his guardianship. While there is no
evidence of his stipulating a curse against anyone damaging or
removing his books, there is ample written evidence of his specifying

Plate 15: AN ANCIEN T TEMPLE (L IB R A R Y ?) C U R S E . As early as

3800 B.C ., if not earlier, the curse was employed in protection of books— if
one accepts a temple curse a s applicable to its holy volumes. This curse on
the door socket of the Temple of Bel, ordered carved there by K ing Sargon I
(c. 3800 B .C .) may be the w orld’s oldest surviving book curse— mincing no
words and damning the miscreant, his past, and his future. (Courtesy of The
Museum of the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia)
exactly who he was, and one can presume that it was quite clear ANATHEMA!
that he was not to be irritated:

I am Thoth the perfect scribe, whose hands are pure, who opposes
every evil deed, who writes down justice and who hates every wrong,
he who is the writing reed of the inviolate god, the lord of laws, whose
words are written and whose words have dominion over the two earths.
The Book of the Dead

While a god ruled from above, he who ruled on earth was, as

king, a god himself. Pharaoh, for instance, was at the same time god
and king; as we advance to the Western world in the Middle Ages
the king ceased to be god but at least ruled by Divine Right. Books
that in earliest times belonged to god belonged as well to the king,
being one and the same. As time progressed and the authority of
the religious and civilian authority diverged, the few books which
existed outside the temple were invariably inside the court. And what
may be the earliest surviving curse to specifically mention books
protected the library of clay tablets belonging to King Assurbani-
pal (668-626 B.C.) who ruled Babylon, the capital province of Assyria.
His curse is found repeated on most of the tablets (see Plate 16):

The palace of Ashur-bani-pal, king of hosts, king of Assyria, who

putteth his trust in the gods Ashur and Belit* . . . 1 have transcribed •Supreme earth god and goddess.”
upon tablets the noble products of the work of the scribe which none
of the kings who had gone before me had learned, together with the
wisdom of Nabu insofar as it existeth [in writing}. I have arranged
them in classes, I have revised them and 1 have placed them in my
 palace, that I, even I, the ruler who knoweth the light of Ashur, the ANATHEMA! 53
king of the gods, may read them. Whosoever shall carry off this tablet,
or shall inscribe his name on it, side by side with mine own, may
Ashur and Belit overthrow him in wrath and anger, and may they
destroy his name and posterity in the land.15' 95

Far more is implied by “destroy his name” than the simple threat
of “ being forgotten.” One must remember in what great awe the
written word was still being held. The Egyptian gods had been so
much a part of the words written by or about them that they were
the words themselves. The name of a god teas that god. In religious
processions, the carrying of his written name constituted his actual
presence.74 To erase anyone’s name was not to remove the recollection
of him, but to cause him to have ceased to exist, the reason for the

Plate 16: THE OLDEST KNOWN B O O K C U R S E . While the book curse

can be traced back into the 39th century B.C. by the temple curse’s association
with the temple contents, the curse specifying books is certainly at least a s old
as the 7th century B.C. Perhaps the oldest known true book curse w as ordered
inscribed on innumerable clay tablets by the ruler of Babylon, King
A ssurbani'pal, who w as concerned not only with his books’ safety, but with
the credit due him for having ordered their production and collection. This
-'Tprnr
tablet, from Ninevah, contains an almost complete curse." (T ablet K 155,
courtesy of Mr. Christopher Walker, Department of Western and A siatic
Antiquities, The British Library, London)
chiseling off of certain pharaoh’s names from cartouches and other ANATHEMA
stone, such as occurred after Akhenaton’s death. Given the attitude
in nearby Egypt at that time, it is safe to presume that Assurbani-
pal, in Babylonia, was offering to have his gods not only kill the
transgressor, his children, and their children, but void no less than
the existence of his ancestors. This is indeed “ rage and fury.” (While
damning one’s past may at first seem a sophisticated, if not philo­
sophical concept, consider this: to tell a Maori “go and cook your
father” is considered a great curse, but minor compared to “go and
cook your great-grandfather,” because it implies wiping out the
designated chef’s entire ancestry, self, and future.)18
When such a curse came into use in the Western world is not
known. But more than 300 years passed before the first surviving
indication. Sometime in the last quarter of the 3rd century B.C., a
Greek scribe finished copying a papyrus of a portion of Menander’s
Sikyonios and jotted down what is, today, the oldest known Greek
colophon. What remains of the three lines is

Do not jeer at the script . . .

Of he who jeers at his leg . . .
{paragraph mark}
[So happily] 1 rest my thre{e fingers].65

It is certainly incomplete, and the meaning is unclear. But some

scholars believe it could be a curse against the roll’s mishandling.65
Might the scribe, having asked the reader not to jeer, then gone on
to explain what would happen if he did?
As mentioned earlier, this is the oldest surviving mention of the
use of three fingers to hold the pen (an extremely popular reference ANATHEMA! 55

throughout the entire Middle Ages); we also note mention of the

act of writing, and the leg, which suggest the familiar medieval plaints.
But instead of the scribes crediting writing with pain to their eyes,
backs, chests, bellies, ribs, kidneys, and viscera, this is an attack
below the belt. The reason is quite simple: the medieval scribes
worked at desks and/or tables; here we deal with scribes who were,
among other things, their own desks. The Greek and Roman scribe
sat on a stool or bench, his legs bent before him and both feet
firmly on the ground, or possibly with the right foot resting on a
footstool to elevate it slightly. With the papyrus draped across his
lap, he wrote on the area of papyrus that lay across his right knee.60165
Thus he might well complain of pain in leg and/or knee—not from
pressure of pen on papyrus, but from having to remain still for great
lengths of time. Had he been an even earlier scribe, say an Egyptian
who customarily sat cross-legged on the ground, the complaint would
have centered on a more-fundamental area.
A clearer example, 500 years later and still more than 500 years
before the earliest Christian example, survives in a papyrus roll (the
earliest form of the book as we know it today). The roll, containing
the third and fourth books of the Iliad in Greek, now rests in the
British Museum. On a separate sheet at the end of the roll (see Plate
17), the scribe, sometime in the 1st century A.D.83 or 3rd century
A.D.,65 wrote:

I am the guardian of the letters.

The reed pen wrote me, the right hand and the knee.
If you lend me to someone, take another in exchange.
Plate 17: THE OLDEST COM PLETE W E ST E R N B O O K C U R S E . While the
book curse apparently originated a t a period o f book evolution in which the book
consisted o f clay tablets, the oldest known complete book curse o f Western origin
w as penned when that evolution had reached the stage o f papyrus rolls. Here, in
this earliest known exam ple from the 1st or 3rd century A .D ., the reader is
warned against erasing the text, and the implication may well be that he would
risk being erased himself. (London, The British Library, Papyrus 136, separate
sheet a t the end)
 If you rub me out, I will slander you to Euripides. ANATHEMA! 57
Keep off.
London, British Museum,
Papyrus 13633

It is extremely difficult to be certain of precise meanings in ancient

Greek, so I include a second translation:

{The colophon speaks:}

I am the flourish, protector of the scribes
A reed wrote me, with a right hand and a knee
[The book speaks:}
If you use me for anything, assist another* *l.e., as 1 have helped you, be helpful your-
But if you smear me, I will slander you before Euripedes, self,
so desist.

Here we are without doubt dealing with a curse, and this particular
one may well be the oldest complete book curse surviving from
Western antiquity. The Euripides mentioned is probably the 5th-
century B.C. tragedian.38 While it is true that news tended to travel
slowly in the old days, 500 years or more surely should have been
sufficient for word to get to the scribe who wrote this curse, and he
could not possibly have assumed that Euripides was in any condition
to listen to gossip. So whatever point he was trying to make by
referring to Euripides is unfortunately lost to the ages.
It is interesting that, while the third line of the second translation
suggests a humanitarian ideal, the same line in the first translation
is purely practical, reminding one of the medieval concern for books:
 take another book as collateral against the loan of this one if you ANATHEMA!
ever expect to see it again. Whatever one may read into it, this curse
in defense of the defenseless book well represented all that was to
follow.
With the coming of Christianity, the tradition of protecting books
and libraries continued. In Western eyes and hearts the power to
protect no longer rested with Thoth, King Assurbani-pal, Ashtart,
Ashur or Belit, Bel, Shamash or Ahuramazda, but with a source
mightier than all who had come before: God Almighty. As Western
monastic communities were established, many not only promulgated
laws against lending books, but formally placed them under God’s
protection by stating that anyone posing a threat to them would
receive the ultimate punishment—the curse of excommunication.71
The earliest surviving example of such a curse occurred in a manuscript
produced in the Monastery of St.-Denis in 627.95
Excommunication, the ultimate threat, first appeared in Church
documents in the 4th century.53 It consisted of the complete rejection
of a person from all association with the Church, from relationship
with its flock, and from any possibility of salvation in the Hereafter,
and declared him to be the property of Satan64—while at the same
time keeping him bound to all religious duties.53 In a chaotic world
where the Church and monastery might well offer the only security,
or humanity, known to medieval man, it could be considered—even
by a man not wholly religious—a death sentence.
It was virtually impossible for someone to be unaware of the threat
of excommunication, for that “Great Sentence,” as it was called,
although it had no official position in any Service book, was reproduced
in varying lengths in some Manuals, and was ordered to be read ANATHEMA! 59
aloud to the congregations not once or twice but four times a year.
Hence the preamble:107

The grete sentens I wryte thee here,

That foure tymes in the yere
Thou schalte pronownce with-owtyn lette,
Whan the parich is to-gydur mette;
Thou schalte pronownce this hydowse thinge
Wit cros and candul and bell knyllynge,
The furste sononday affter myghell feste;
Mydlenton sonday schal be neste;
The trenite feste is the thridde, os I thee say;
The ferthe is the sononday aftur candulmes day.107

On each of those four days, as every living soul sat hushed, God’s
representative intoned the Great Sentence:

Be the auctorite of our lorde ihesu cryste . . . we denownce accursed

&. owte of the company of god &. off alle holy chyrche . . . Alle that
leyne hand on preste or clerke or of man or woman . . .

and the list of excommunicable misdeeds rolled on and on until the

“ hydowse thinge” itself was pronounced, by the authority of the
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:

we acurson and waryon [denounce] And departon [divide] from alle

gode dedus &. prayeres of holy chyrche, and dampnon in-to the peyne
 of helle, Alle yoo that have done theis articoles . . . We acurson hem ANATHEMA
. . . sclepynge &. wakynge, goynge, syttynge and standinge . . . spekynge
rydynge . . . etynge, drynkynge, in wode, in watur, in felde & in
towne . . . tyl they comen to amendemente & satisfaccion made, fiat,
fiat! amen.107

Because it was so “grete” a sentence that it would strike its victim

no matter what task he was about, and no matter where he might
be, for all time, it was at first used sparingly. But the anathema, as
the curse is known in C hurch Latin, came to be used more and
more until the word itself began to mean any curse.31, 65 Today, the
medieval book curse, whether or n ot it specifies excom m unication,
is commonly referred to as a book curse, a malediction, or an anathema,
the term I favor.
In the 19th century and earlier it was believed that the anathema
was instituted as a matter o f medieval, official, C hurch policy specifically
as a book curse. As evidence, proponents point to a notation by
Bernhard o f M ontfaulcon, a m onk in the 14th century. A fter
completing the translation o f a psalm, Bernhard added a warning
presumably against anyone who would damage or steal the manuscript:
that he or she would receive the curse o f all 318 Nicean Fathers,
and the Trinity, the M other o f God, Jo h n the Baptist, and all the
saints. T o prevent any possible uncertainty, Bernhard also promised
the miscreant the fate o f Sodom and Gom orrah, and the rope o f
Judas Iscariot. (Since Judas hanged himself, the reference is either to
being hanged or to being driven by remorse to suicide.)
Impressed as they may have been with Bernhard’s over-kill, it must
be said that scholars were less interested in the Trinity, the M other ANATHEMA!
o f G od, Jo h n the Baptist, every blessed saint, and the ultimate in
urban renewal than they were in the Nicean Fathers. Had the Council
o f Nicea instituted an official policy regarding anathemas? It would
appear so— for many miles and years away a Syrian scribe named
Nectarius, concerned for the safety o f a manuscript he was copying
(Cod. Am bros. 89), jotted down an anathema in which the disaster-
du-jour o f leprosy— apparently not sufficiently threatening—was ac­
companied by the disfavor o f the Holy Fathers o f the C ouncil of
Nicea.32 Nevertheless, historians have found that the council set no
policy regarding anathemas.15
But if one came away from Nicea thinking M other C hurch had
no policy on the matter, it was contradicted by a get-together in
C onstantinople in 719, when the Third C ouncil enacted a canon
which held

That nobody whatever be allowed to injure the book of the Old and
New Testament, or those of our holy preachers and doctors, nor to
cut them up, nor to give them to dealers in books, or perfumers, or
any other person to be erased, except they have been rendered useless
by moths or water or in some other way. He who shall do any such
thing shall be excommunicated for one year.73

Perfumers may seem an odd stratum o f the commercial world to

single out for attack, but they historically bore the sweet smell o f
biblioclasm or book destruction. In earliest times when it was dis­
covered that burning papyrus gave forth a pleasing aroma, perfumers
created incense cornices from the pages o f discarded books (at that ANATHEMA!
time rolls).49 W hen parchm ent replaced papyrus, perfumers and others
used pages o f books to wrap goods for their customers.
A t the C ouncil o f Paris in 1212 it was decreed that

From the present date, no book is to be retained under pain of

incurring a curse [i.e., stop trying to scare off potential borrowers by
laying anathemas], and we declare such curses to be of no effect.95

T h e only conclusion it is safe to draw (aside from the obvious

one that attending too many councils can shake o n e’s faith in C atholic
continuity) is that official policy depended on where one was and
when, if there were a policy and, inevitably, if one chose to conform.
In other words, we simply cannot be sure, but it would appear that
no single policy was universally in effect for any majority o f the
Middle Ages. But M other C hurch certainly offered an environm ent
conducive to anathemas. They had been employed for centuries and
were com patible with the C h u rch ’s attitude; for if the C hurch offered
Eternal Life to those who produced books, why would it be unrea­
sonable to deny Eternal Life to those who would destroy books?15
Individual monasteries may have favored or deplored their use; but
the decision to insert an anathema, and its subsequent detail, length,
and creativity, seems to have been primarily the decision o f the
scribe.
M ost anathemas were laid against borrowing or lending,50 but no
crime was too small. T h e prior and others in the convent o f Rochester
are known to have pronounced the sentence o f dam nation on anyone
who not only stole or hid, but even erased the title o f their Latin ANATHEMA! 63
translation o f A ristotle’s Physics.80
A n anathema, as we have seen, could exist in two forms. T h e first
was a protective curse placed over all the books o f a given library.
But even if it is not only pronounced but posted on the library
door or wall, how is one to know that the reader will have it firmly
in mind once he is alone in his room with the defenseless book at
his mercy? Granted that God could see him, but circumstances
suggested—and the fact that so few books survive confirms— that
G od quite often had other things to worry about. It might therefore
be the better form o f wisdom to remind the reader at close quarters.
A word o f warning spoken in church might be dulled by time. A
curse spoken might go h alf unheard, unheeded, or worse: an A rab,
for instance, when he was cursed, would fling him self to the ground,
knowing that the curse would thus pass over him and be gone.16 A
curse on the library door-post might go unseen; and a curse high
on a wall when a man was looking down at a book? No, for an
anathem a to be effective— and its real purpose was as a preventive—
it needed to be at the scene o f the potential crime as an inescapable
and unavoidable reminder. Hence the most popular form o f the
anathema, and the one described in the following pages—the anathema
usually written at the end,*or inserted in the first page, or attached *Not the last place a reader would look, but
to the inside cover o f a manuscript. This is the anathema in its the first: in medieval times a work’s title was
stated at the end. Title pages were an inven­
purest form. tion of the latter part of the 15th century.
T h e anathemas were as diverse as the books. W hile all were inspired
by the same heartfelt concern, the details o f each curse depended
on the particular circumstances and the creativity o f the writer. In
 their own way the anathemas each reveal a bit o f the inner-most ANATHEMA
feelings o f the scribe and his ability to express them. For a good
curse, like a good quiche, is an art to be savored.
If the earliest anathemas were short and simple and then, as time
progressed, became more volatile and vituperative, they would best
be displayed chronologically. But they meander from brief to bellicose
with no respect for time and place. No scribe, o f course, sat cursing
in a vacuum. It was implicit in his craft that he copy the works o f
others, and therefore he could not help but come across the anathemas
o f other scribes, not only his contemporaries but as much as 1,000
years before his time. It would be reasonable to believe that he
borrowed from and was influenced by others. In fact many anathemas
appear virtually unchanged from century to century. But so many
were lost with the destruction o f their volumes, and so few o f their
authors have left more than their anathemas to mark their passing,
that a serious “cultural” history o f the anathema is impossible.
So 1 have arranged them in order o f progressive complexity, for
no other reason than that one has a natural tendency to want to
bring order out o f chaos, even if the chaos in this case is unrelated
bits o f invective. A nd I have saved for last the anathema I find the
most clever, because it incorporated an elem ent ignored by all the
others—the visual.
Let us begin with some that are entirely gentle and nonthreatening
and should not be considered curses at all, until one realizes that
they lay on the reader a sense o f responsibility— no, a sense o f guilt,
which everyone knows can be a curse in itself. W ho would possibly,
for example, be heartless enough to steal a book from a sweet thing
like Miss Eleanor Worcester, when she had written, in 1440,
 This boke ys myne, Eleanor Worcester, ANATHEMA! 65
And I yt los, and yow yt fynd,
I pray yow hartely to be so kynd,
That yow wel take a letil payne,
To se my boke brothe home agayne.
London, British Museum,
Ms. Harley 1,251, leaf 184'07

O ne can only assume that it was an effective tool, because it became

popular not only in that century but later:

An 1 it lose and you it find

I pray you heartily to be so kind
That you will take a little pain
To see my book brought home again.17

In the same gentle vein—one book-lover appealing to the sense

o f cameraderie only another book-lover would fully understand—a
m id-10th-century monk named C ild escalated the sentiment:

Bald has this book which he told Cild to write

In Christ’s name all around I fondly pray
That no foul fellow takes my book away
By force or theft or any lying plight
Why? For no treasure is so dear to me
As those dear books Christ’s grace accompanies.31, 87
Bald habet hunc librum Cild quem conscribere iussit.
Hie precor assidue cunctis in nomine Christi,
Quod nullus tollat hunc librum perfidus a me,
 Nec vi nec furto nec quodam jamine falso. ANATHEMA! 66
Cur? Quia nulla mihi tarn cara est optima gaza
Quam cari libri quos Christi gratia comit.

A nother approach was that o f sparing a fellow book-lover un­

necessary pain:

If this book of mine be defiled with dirt, the master will smite me in
dire wrath upon the hinder parts.17

T o the wish for physical well-being add the irresistible suggestion

that only a smart reader could be expected to be considerate o f the
bo o k —and we have an even more powerful presentation. A scribe
wrote in the 12th century:

This book, o Christ, in praise of thee,

Lies finished for all to see.
Good Benedictine, to spare my health,
Put back this book upon its shelf;
And you will give me recompense
If you deem it worthy of your intelligence.
Quern pro te, Christe, scripsi,
Liber explicit iste.
Hunc, Benedicte bone,
Mihi conservando repone,
Tuque recompenses,
Dignum si quomodo censes.
Cod. Lat. Monac. 451415
 ANATHEMA! 67
' l i b e r . s c r * m a n r o r c o lu bn. q c u q ; c u f i n a r t a t .
Plate 18: A C ISTER C IA N ’S SIMPLE
w t a lin u u c r r t. ir n tb e r tu / s i t . . CURSE. Most book curses commonly were
precise and to the point, it being necessary
only to stipulate excommunication and leave
the rest to the miscreant’s imagination. A
scribe in the Cistercian Monastery o f Santa
M aria della Colom ba in the diocese o f
But enough o f all these niceties. Reality suggests that when it
Piacenza, Italy, completing a manuscript in
comes to the way people can treat books, a plea aimed at the reader’s the late 12th century, stated cause and
sense o f gentility and compassion isn’t worth the ink wasted on it. effect in as matter-of-fact a manner
C onscience is one thing, a good curse quite another. possible. (Courtesy o f Mr. H. Clifford
T h e simplest anathema is no more than a reminder, the thought Maggs, Maggs Bros. Ltd., London)
being, perhaps, that the imagination can suggest greater horrors than
the pen. W ith that in mind, many scribes got directly to the point.
A 12th-century Cistercian m onk in the Monastery o f Santa Maria
della Colom ba (near Piacenza, Italy) jotted in their copy o f Pope
Gregory’s Homiliae super Evangelia52 (Plate 18):

Book of Santa Maria della Colomba {literally, Holy Mother of the

Dove}. Whoever steals it or sells it, may there be anathema on him.
Amen.*38 *The use of the Hebrew word “amen” mean­
ing truly or any sign of agreement seems to
Liber sancte marie de columba. quicumque eum furatus fuerit. uel alienauerit. have arisen when early Greek and Latin
Anathema. Sit. Amen. scholars produced copies of the New Testa­
ment. They inserted the Hebrew word at the
end of passages they found especially mov­
M inim al m aledictions—at least in terms o f length—were similarly ing.“
popular in many manuscripts o f St. A lb an ’s Monastery:
 This book belongs to S. Alban. May whosoever steals it from him or ANATHEMA!
destroys its title be anathema. Amen.13
Hie est liber sancti Albani quem qui ei abstulerit aut titulum deleverit
anathema sit. Amen.

Adding a bit in length in order to get in some credits along with

the curse, an early 9th-century scribe in the scriptorium o f the
M onastery o f Lyons wrote

This book is dedicated at the altar of Saint Stephen in accordance

with the vow of Remigius, the humble bishop; may grace be to the
reader, indulgence to the benefactor, anathema upon its thief.
Liber oblatus ad altare sancti Stephani ex voto Remigii humilis episcopi;
Sit utenti gratia, largitori venia, fraudanti anathema.
Jerome on Isaiah
Ms. Lyons 463(392) folio 171

A nd since anathema was, in effect, a weapon, another scribe combined

that thought with the curse’s term inal potential, and wrote

May the sword of anathema slay

If anyone steals this book away.101
Si quis furetur,
anathematis ense necetur.

Two other terse threats are interesting because their scribes were
either fed to the cowl with their mistakes being pointed out, or tired ANATHEMA! 69
o f having to defend their manuscripts’ literary content. Whatever
the reason, both decided that since they were in full curse anyway,
they might as well cover whatever else bothered them:

If anyone steal it, let him be anathema!

Whoever finds fault with it, let him be accursed. Amen.
Quicunque alienaverit anathema sit.
Qui culpat carmen sit maledictus. Amen.
Paraphrase of the Psalms,
Oxford, Bodleian Library43
A nd by a scribe in 1270:

If anyone unfairly
This scribe puts down,
In Hell’s murky waters
May Cerberus him drown.*15 ‘ Cerberus was the three-headed dog who
guarded the gates of Hell. There is more to
Scriptorem si quis verbis this anathema, but only the lines protecting
reprobara iniquis, the scribe are quoted, not the lines protect­
Cerberus in baratro ing the book.
flumine mergat atro.

Occasionally the term “anathem a” (whether specifying excom ­

m unication or simply a curse in general) does not appear at all. But
the threat o f excom m unication is no less clear. T h e G reek Patriarch
Athanasius (late 13th-early 14th centuries) wrote the following, in
A rabic, at the bottom o f the first page o f Genesis o f the Bible he
held in his care, the 5th- or 6th-century C odex Alexandrinus, one o f ANATHEMA! 70
the three oldest, surviving, complete G reek Bibles:86

Whoever shall remove it thence {from the cell of the Patriarch of

Alexandria] shall be accursed and cut off. Written by Athanasius the
humble.* 'Apparently immune to his own curse,
Athanasius later took the Bible with him
when he moved to Constantinople.
T h e allusion to being cut off quite likely meant separated from the
C hurch body, i.e., excommunicated. A similar allusion is that o f the
Book o f Life which, in Biblical language, was the volume in which
were recorded the names o f all those who merited Eternal Life.64 If
you couldn’t be “found in the book,” your future was eternal
dam nation. Hence, in the 7th or 8th century,

He who erases the memory {of the fact that the book was bought
by the monastery], his name will be erased in the Book of Life.
Manuscript, British Museum
Syrian Manuscript Nitrian collection.15

A nd in the 16th century, in a missal belonging to Robert at Jumieges,

France, is found

Should anyone by craft or any device whatever abstract this book

from this place may his soul suffer, in retribution for what he has
done, and may his name be erased from the book of the living and
not be recorded among the Blessed.23
 These examples are sufficient to illustrate anathemas whose impact ANATHEMA! 71
depended upon the reader’s imagination. Scribes were certainly willing
to enlarge upon the unpleasant eventualities. O ne way was to get a
lot o f people behind the curse. A trio o f book producers in 1215
decided that at least a dozen were called for:

This sacred gospel has been copied by the hand of George, priest of
Rhodes, by the exertions and care of Athanasius, cloistered monk, and
by the labour of Christonymus Chartinos, for their souls’ health. If
any man dare carry it off, either secretly or publicly, let him incur the
malediction of the twelve apostles and let him also receive the heavier
curse of all monks. Amen. The first day of the month of September,
year 6743, of Jesus Christ 1215.”

Apostles provided a powerful element, and throwing in all the monks

from everywhere was a nice touch, so George does deserve credit. But
he only m entioned in passing a single source o f curses far more
weighty than any num ber elsewhere: God or Christ. O ther scribes
’ Medieval Latin resists translation; words or
saw no need for anything else: phrases changed in meaning due to their po­
sition or even the decade in which they
Christ’s curse upon the crook were penned. To convey medieval Latin
rhyme into its English equivalent takes a
Who takes away this book.*38' 96
special talent, so I am grateful to a friend for
Sit maledictuus per Christum, some examples in this chapter:
Qui librum subtraxerit istum. I bow in thanks to David Harvey,
Who finds it fun to fashion rhyme.
It’s simply play where he’s concerned;
A similar anathema: I know its not where I’m.
 Thys boke is one r q u e y r r n c W i» ' ‘ tecum i j T t e i f c I i p i a c i e o i T à b à fch ty x
and Godes kors ys anoder; Acîc inuÇ«*W e ’
They take the ton, (^iTrnp-p B?- k lo l oj* tôljnîp-

God gefe them the toder.101 uff»- 'p n r ^ n n Îo li ^ v

ß t C t m a p r ftrjujL o m rtp f.l P n n puÄri-»! 1 Q}ojt.Çorki o n n lirl

.lp-UÇ.lf'Jt L y jjUIify UPJU>n-itP f i l CJicmJyi-
O r more clearly, in a manuscript o f the 15th century, VHoii Arp cjuo jj<~mio Aivjx Lp-no j v hojxfty nim
.■Ü o h c c e r v
I l une f&rwmtlac Uofnuif e jjf jXïtp 1dî|»«n jptï mcwonu
This book is one, ad fed è 1ux remedio atnrtnf 1ûr aduaUuiretn
And God’s curse is another; fîicocifomtn luorntu •5icjwi\tntê ilUf itidr alijiulct'K •y<rv
They that take the one ycw v- ttuiledtihont fub ucear. fu r-
God give them the other.17 *0 ap (jocxjrp Irupjuc tucoj ce myîifcjm ]>crpl)i^
b ip m jeuï ij -.Iiij - trprji yilrtpifcatn tu n tcy foiiSiiV 'fje
- jjip n ij îtyia «c irclkjirôr JurtW lu- uw5 tnb q iu v g r
A n improvement emphasized the severity o f the curse by pointing mit>raUtnn ôfo^troi. iï
out its duration:
tiLy: •*
Whosoever removes this Volume from this same mentioned Convent,
may the anger of the Lord overtake him in this world and in the V V-V tvevyn\ A ’ayu fctl-
next to all eternity. Amen.79
Plate 19: A BISHOP’S BO O K CURSE.
When Bishop Leofric o f Exeter presented
In the m id -llth century, Bishop Leofric o f Exeter was in charge
a volume to his cathedral, it was a boon
o f the Library o f Exeter Cathedral and was responsible for anathemas
o f such value that he had no intention of
appearing in many o f the books. O ne that best represents them (Plate its ever being moved elsewhere. The cost,
19) reads he made quite clear, was eternal dam na­
tion. (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms.
Leofric, Bishop of the Church of St. Peter the Apostle in Exeter, gives Auct. F 3.6, folio H I verso)
this book to his cathedral church, for the relief of his soul and for
the use of his successors. If, however, anyone shall take it away from
thence, let him lie under perpetual malediction. Amen.
 Hunc librum dat leofricus episcopus ecclesiae Sancti Petri Apostoli in exonia ANATHEMA! 73
ad sedem suam episcopalem, pro remedio animae suae, ad utilitatem successorum
suorum. Siquis autem ilium inde abstulerit, perpetuae maledictioni subiaceat.
fiat.
Oxford, Bodleian Library, in a copy of the
Prudentius. (Ms. Auct. F3.6, folio III verso)5' 38

A nd from the Monastery o f St. Emmeram,

If anyone takes this book from Emmeram without permission, may he

fear the judgment of the Lord. Whoever takes this book and does not
afterward return it in good condition, may he do penance forever as
his just reward.101

Hemrammo librum si quis vi subtrahat istum,

Juditium Domini sibimet sciat esse timori.
Quisquis percipiat quod non bene postea reddat,
Hie capiat munus quod semper sit luiturus.

Since G od, when all is said and done, is an intangible, a little

direct reference to physical violence added spice to a curse. O ne way
was to suggest it in a general fashion:

Who takes this book from holy St. Nazarius

The Judge’s wrath will make his life precarious.31
Hoc qui Nazarium libro fraudaverit almum
Sentiat ultricem districti iudicis iram.
Or ANATHEMA! 74
May whoever steals me cease
Ever to have a moment’s peace.101
Qui me furetur,
nunquam requies sibi detur.

Som ething definitely could be said for pinpointing just how uncom ­
fortable things could get. From a copy o f C haucer’s Troilus:

He that thys Boke rentt or stelle

God send hym sekenysse swart of helle.80

Plate 20: THE CU RATO R’S BO O K CURSE. While most

book curses attracted attention by dint o f their content rather
than their appearance, being simply penned amid if not
following the final few lines o f a manuscript, one might
infrequently be found that was as glorious to see as it was
aggressive to contemplate. Perhtolt, curator o f the Abbey o f
St. Peter in Salzburg, Austria, while promising intense
physical agony to miscreants, had the good taste to do so in
pure gold on precious purple. It may have been only the 11th
century, but the medium, if it wasn’t the message, could at
least m ake the message very noticeable, (blew York, The
Pierpont Morgan Library, M. 780, folio 80)
 No, sekenysse won’t quite do; a lot o f things that make you seke ANATHEMA! 75
can ’t be guaranteed to leave you in agony, even though the idea
that it would be “just short o f Hell” does have rather a panache.
But scribes certainly could be called upon to be a bit more bloodthirsty
in a good cause. Perhtolt, at the A bbey o f St. Peter in Salzburg,
Austria, in the latter h alf o f the 11th century, not only had the
right idea, but expressed it in gold letters (see Plate 20) on the last
purple-stained vellum page o f a lectionary he was completing:

To the bearer of the keys of Heaven {St. Peter, patron of Perhtolt’s

monastery] the Curator Perhtolt who made this book offers it with
joyful heart in order that it may be an expiation for all sins committed
by him. May he who steals it suffer violent bodily pains.
COELI CLAV1GERO DONAV1T LAETO CUSTOS HUNC L1BRUM
PERHTOLT QUI FECERIT 1LLUMVT SIT PECCATI PRECIVM.
PER CVNCTA PATRATI H1NC RAPTOR POENAS
New York, Pierpont Morgan Library,
M. 780, folio 80'°' *

A nd equally to the point, in the 13th century,

May he who steals you then be sent

A blow upon his fundament.101
Qui te furetur,
in culum percutietur.

A nd, undated,
 Who steals me, rightily ANATHEMA
Hit with a rod, mightily.15
Qui me furetur,
baculo bene percutietur.

From the year 1461:

Hanging will do
for him who steals you.15
Qui me furatur,
in tribus tignis suspendatur.

A 14th-century scribe who couldn’t decide between bisection or

banishm ent simply included both:

May the one who takes you in theft

By the sword of a demon be cleft.
May he for one full year be banned
Who tries to take you away in hand.101
Qui te furetur
hie demonis ense secetur.
Iste sit in banno
qui te furetur in anno.

Hugh, the abbot o f the A bbey o f Lobbes in Germ any, was apparently
having “one o f those days” in 1049, as he sat finishing the com pilation
o f a library catalogue.93 Apparently a number o f the monastery s ANATHEMA! 77
books were missing, or at least he was having quite a time getting
the borrowers to return them, for he wrote on the last page

All those who do not books return

Are thieves, not borrowers, and earn Plate 21: AN EVISCERATING BOOK
The punishment Justice demands; CURSE. Book curses were a confusing
Their sacrificial loss of hands. amalgam o f repetition o f the fam iliar
May God, therefore, as witness see format, thoughtful concern, and less than
That it be done unswervingly.93 rational emotionalism. Since the degree o f
each varied with the individual scribe, the
Omms librorum
variety was endless and always curious. A
raptor nec redditor horum
13th-century scribe who began his explicit
Penas suscipiat
with gentle humility warmed up rapidly
et manibus hostia fiat.
as he got to cursing. Instead o f escalating
Sit Justus vindex
the level o f his threats, his concern for his
raptus recti deus index.
book led him first to damnation, then
murder, and finally to a rather anti-
Nasty, certainly, but a fine bit o f simplistic justice; for it is the hands climactic evisceration. (Rome, Vatican
that take a book away. Why? So that the eyes can read the book. Library, Vatic. Palat. Lat. 978, folio 25
Hence the obvious emphasis in this next, ever more eviscerating recto, col. 2)
example (Plate 21): m ia n <u*- sm tu * pome ag w -
fhrp'U at’ IU> -nunaluun <punm#~
The finished book before you lies; #xpUor utr bb'flr W>
This humble scribe don’t criticize. fLS utbMt xpm 4 ftmur »rtu •v
Whoever takes away this book lUimc i & iw 'awattemantf enlHtWt
A? t A* *
May he never on Christ look. ■*Vr me ffcme- ^ wrot ««ocuUtKtf
Whoever to steal this volume durst
 May he be killed as one accursed. ANATHEMA
Whoever to steal this volume tries
Out with his eyes, out with his eyes!38
Explicit iste liber
sit scriptor crimine liber.
Non vicleat Christum
qui librum subtrahet istum.
Hunc qui furetur
anathematis esse necetur
Ut me furetur
qui nitatur exoculetur.
13th century (?), Rome, Vatican Library,
Ms. Palat. Lat. 978, folio 25r, col. 2%

A n anonymous scribe, probably in Germ any, made a significantly

gory improvement to the latter thought by adding detail, sound
effects, and justification. T h e Grand Guignol school o f poetic expression
employed by this scribe is a bit misleading; he obviously had a good
sense o f humor, for each line begins in Latin and ends in German:

This book belongs to none but me

For there’s my name inside to see.
To steal this book, if you should try,
It’s by the throat that you’ll hang high.
And ravens then will gather ‘bout
To find your eyes and pull them out.
And when you’re screaming “oh, oh, oh!”
Remember, you deserved this woe.80
 Hie Uber est mein
ANATHEMA! 79
Ideo nomen scripsi drein.
Si vis hunc liberum stehlen,
Pendebis an der kehlen.
Tune veniunt die raben
Et volunt tibi oculos ausgraben.
Tune clamabis ach ach ach,
Ubique tibi recte geschach.

M odern psychology stresses that negotiation is impossible when

one party puts another in an inflexible position; matters can always
be worked out if alternatives are offered. A nd this was not lost on
the medieval scribe. We have seen him, in earlier anathemas, offer
to lift the curse if the book is returned, but we were concerned at
the time with other ingredients in those quotes. But the inclusion
o f mitigating circumstances was popular (see Plate 22):

This book belongs to Christ Church, Canterbury, from the gift of

Master John Blund (Chancellor of York). The contents of the volume
are as follows, namely these books of the Apocrypha: Esdras (Nehemiah)
Tobias Judith Esther and the Book of Maccabees; and may whoever
destroys this title, or by gift or sale or loan or exchange or theft or
by any other device knowingly alienates this book from the aforesaid
Christ Church [Canterbury] incur in his life the malediction of Jesus
Christ and of the most glorious Virgin His Mother, and of Blessed
Thomas, Martyr. Should however it please Christ, who is patron of
Christ Church, may his soul be saved in the Day of Judgment.
 ANATHEMA! 80

A. t,w *xr>r «•’" T «*V? -W 1" VW 3 ^”«"7 ^ Plate 22: THE CHRIST CHURCH
t £ S - S S J3 w u . BOO K CURSE. Justice, mercy, and good
will toward one’s fellow man were ethics
inseparable from the medieval religious
_ , . _ - » S t e r U i r t - W i - S ' J «!*“- J f 2 T , J * “
mind. But it was not inconsistent that the
same mind could happily contemplate the
;f r « f 4 C , , ? * ''; 4 'X ‘ ' ' severest pain for a heinous crime— like
stealing a book. Book curses occasionally
followed the sanguinary course with the
hope o f salvation, as in this valued
manuscript from the library o f Christ
Church, Canterbury. (Cambridge, Trinity
Iste Über est ecclesie Christi Cantuarie De dono Mag. Johannis Blundi College Library, 163, Libri Paralipomenon
(Cancellarii Eboracensis). ln cuius volumine continentur isti libri, videlicet Etc. Glosati. B.5.17 240, folio 192b)
Paralipomenon Esdras (Neemias) Tobias Judith Hester et Liber Machabeorum
et quicunque hunc titulum aboleuerit uel a prefata ecclesia Christi dono •
uel uendicione • uel accommodacione • uel mutuacione • uel furto • uel
quocunque alio modo hunc librum scienter alienauerit malediccionem Ihesu
Christi et gloriosissime Virginis matris eius et beati thome martiris habeat
ipse in uita presenti. Ita tarnen quod si christo placeat • qui est patronus
ecclesie Christi • eius Spiritus saluus in die Judicii fiat.
Cambridge, Trinity College Library,
163, Libri Paralipomenon Etc. Glosati.
B.5.17 240, folio 192b.13' *• 38- 98

Similarly, in a manuscript from the year 1067, with a common

variation— that the th ief can cause the absolution:
 Whoever takes this book or steals it or in some evil way removes it ANATHEMA! 81
from the church of Saint Caecilia, may he be damned and cursed
forever unless he returns it or atones for his act. So be it. So be it.
Amen. Amen.101

Quicumque istum librum rapuerit aut furaverit vel aliquo malo ingenio
abstulerit ab aecclesia S. Caeciliae sit perpetua damnatione damnatus et
maledictus nisi reddiderit vel emendaverit. FIAT FIAT AMEN AMEN.

U nlike his contemporaries, who were doomed but for atonem ent,
the Germ an m alefactor had another means o f escape—albeit an
unlikely one. He would have been “spell-proof” at the time of the
crime if he had had the foresight to be wearing, according to Germ an
folklore, a shirt both spun and stitched by a maiden who had not
spoken a word for seven years.16 It is quite likely there was a paucity
o f that sort o f exceptional woman in Germ any or elsewhere in that
or any time, beyond the confines o f a nunnery operated under the
Rule o f Silence.* A nd no thinking nun would have supplied the *A nunnery always housed women. A con
vent could house men or women or both;
curse-shirking shirt, because nuns were equal to monks as fine
only in modern times has “convent” been
calligraphers, book producers, and book-lovers. taken to mean “for women only.”
A noth er ingredient that had appeared earlier in anathemas and
not been given concentration worthy o f its impact was Hell. T o
medieval minds, Hell was not a concept but a vivid reality, more
easily reached and more anxious to accept him than we can truly
understand today. A good anathem a was even better with a bit of
nether geography suggested. Readers leafing through Rufinus Tyr-
annius’s translation o f O rigen’s De Principiis knew precisely what real
estate he was referring to when he threatened tamperers with dam­ ANATHEMA!
nation in

the place where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth and where the
fire never goes out.95

But most scribes simply spelled it out, like this 9th-century scribe
from Lorsch:

Whoe’er this book / To make his own doth plot,

The fires of Hell / and brimstone be his lot.M

A nd in the words o f brother Ruotpertus, fatigued from copying the

Echtemqch. Bible,

The Holy abbot Reginbertus is the author of this book and the scribe
is brother Ruotpertus. In this book let their lives be recorded and be
remembered forever. If anyone takes this book from Saint Willibrodus
or those serving him, may he be consigned to the depths of hell and
may he be accursed. So be it. So be it. Amen.'5
Dominus abbas Reginbertus auctor libri huius et frater Ruotpertus scriptor.
In libro vitae scribantur et in memoria eterna habeantur. Si quis hunc librum
sancto Willibrodo illique servientibus abstulerit, tradatur diabolo et omnibus
infemalibus penis et sit anathema, pat. fiat. amen.

W hile we’re here in the depths we ought to acknowledge the rather

uncreative but certainly articulate literary school founded on the ANATHEMA! 83
theory that the most direct way to increase impact is to say it all
over again. A master o f this school o f deja vu was a 9th-century
scribe from Lorsch, who wrote in the C odex Pithoeanus o f Juvenal and
Persius:

The book of Saint Nazarius Martyr of Christ.

Whoever wishes to appropriate this book of mine for himself,
may he endure the fire and brimstone of hell.
Whoever wishes to appropriate this book of mine for himself,
May he endure the fire and brimstone of hell.23
Codex Sancti Nazarii Martins Christi.
Qui cupit hunc librum sibimet contendere privum,
Hie Flegetonteas patiatur sulphure flammas.
Qui cupit hunc librum sibimet contendere privum,
Hie Flegetonteas patiatur sulphure flammas.

A more-sophisticated way to escalate the impact o f Hell is to place

it in context as the opposite o f Heaven:

May he who wrote this book with his pen

Ascend to Heaven full well;
If anyone takes it away again
May his soul rot away in Hell.38’ 96
Libri contractor calamis celi potiatur;
Si quis subtractor, in Avernis sic moriatur.
A nother way to emphasize Hell’s disadvantages is to point out whose ANATHEMA! 84
companionship one would lose if sent there:

May no one take way this book from here throughout the whole of
time, if he desires to have a share with Gallus.* *l.e., to retire to Heaven with the founder of
the monastery.
Auferat hunc librum nullus hinc omne per aevum
Cum Gallo partem quisquis habere cupit.
From a manuscript in the library of the
Monastery of St. Gall54' 71

O n the other hand, Hell might well seem far worse if one were
reminded o f who was waiting there to be one’s eternal next-door
neighbor. W alter the Priest was on to a good thing late in the 12th
century in Austria (see Plate 23) when he wrote

The book of Walter the Priest. May whoever steals it be accursed.

Amen. May the earth that swallowed up Datan and Abiron engulf
him, and may he share the lot of Judas in helld +Dathan and Abiram conspired together and
rebelled against Moses (see Numbers 16).'
Liber Sacerdotis Walteri Siquis ei abstulerit anathema sit. amen absorbeat
eum terra que d ’glutiuit datan & abiron & parte jude recipiat in inferno.
St. Gregory’s Expositio Novi Testamenti,
Cambridge, Harvard College Library,
Ms. Typ 205H88

A nd even more neighbors,


So that if anyone by any means takes it away from the monastery
with no intention of returning it, may he receive the fate of eternal
damnation with Judas the traitor, and Anna, and Caiaphas.* Amen,
amen. So be it, so be it.S
*54
o ish high priest (see John 18:13); or if Ana­
Ut si quis eum de monasterio aliquo ingenio non redditurus abstraxerit, cum
Juda proditore, Anna, et Caiapha, portionem aeternae damnationis accipiat.
Amen, amen. Fiat, fiat.
ANATHEMA! 85
Plate 23: THE PRIEST’S BOO K
CURSE. Some book curses were not
particularly creative, but should be given
credit for covering a lot o f territory. The
12th-century Austrian priest Walter, in
few words and directly to the point,
managed to refer both to the here and the
hereafter, establish associations both with
the Old and New Testaments, claim
ownership to the volume, suggest his
familiarity with religious history, and
expect no less than that acquaintance
from the reader. (Cambridge, Harvard
College Library, Ms. Typ 205H)
*A bad neighborhood indeed: Caiaphas was
the high priest before whom Jesus stood trial
(see Matthew 26:3, Luke 3:2, and John 18:13).
If the scribe meant to write Annas, the refer­
ence was to Caiaphas’s father-in-law, the Jew­
nias, he meant the disciple who tried to
deceive the Church (see Acts 5) or the high
priest who laid charges against Paul (see Acts
23:2, 24:1)3
And from a Benedictine monastery in France, ANATHEMA!
This book belongs to S. Maximin at his monastery of Micy, which
abbat Peter caused to be written, and with his own labor corrected
and punctuated, and on Holy Thursday dedicated to God and S.
Maximin on the altar of St. Stephen, with this imprecation that he
who should take it away from thence by what device soever, with the
intention of not restoring it, should incur damnation with the traitor
Judas, with Annas, Caiaphas, and Pilate. Amen.23

Close as Hell might be, the anathema could promise a hell even
closer— a hell on earth, or excom m unication. A popular medieval
anathema was

May' whoever steals or alienates this book, or mutilates it, be cut off
from the body of the church and held as a thing accursed, an object
of loathing.24

A nd there were fine distinctions, too, in the degree o f excom m unication.

Lesser excom m unication meant exclusion from the Sacraments. Greater
excom m unication meant being cut off from all contact with the
C hu rch .38 Hence this 13th-century English anathem a (Plate 24):

This is the book of St. James of Wigmore. If anyone takes it away or

maliciously destroys this notice in taking it away from the above-
mentioned place, may he be tied by the chain of greater excommun­
ication. Amen. So be it. So be it. So be it.
 Hie est liber S. Jacobi de Wygemora • si quis eum alienaurerit vel titulum myftmsmm 1
urfiwi jmrtHtimoier. i pimm
hunc malitiose deleuerit a dicto loco alienando uinculo excommunicationis
maioris innodetur • amen • fiat • fiat • fiat • Iff"liberfr profit tl $ps
Cambridge, Trinity College Library, turn almmimr •utnmfimrnmc mnh
B.2.23 290, folio l 38' 98 nofctdcuCOTfliittoloro ttltcjianbu «Ho
cron is tnauma&toict ■ahVfcar fiar-fiar
Thus the meaning o f the “great Sentence” mentioned in the Breviary
Plate 24: THE ST. JAM ES BO O K
in the library o f G onville and Caius College, Cambridge:
CURSE. I f excommunication was, in the
M iddle Ages, the ultimate punishment for
Where so ever y be come over all the greatest transgressions— book theft
1 belonge to the Chapell of Gunvylle hall;
definitely included— it was not a simple
He shall be cursed by the grate-sentens
blanket sentence. There were degrees o f
That felonsly faryth and berith me thens.
damnation and, in the case o f a book in
And whether he bere me in pooke or sekke,
the English monastery o f St. Jam es o f
For me he shall be hanged by the nekke,
Wigmore in the 13th century, the prospect
(I am so well beknown of dyverse men)
o f the book— and even the curse— being
But I be restored theder again.95
tampered with merited the severest form.
(Cambridge, Triniry College Library,
As we have seen, when it came to anathemas, some were brief B.2.23 290, folio 1)
and some wordy, some mild and some imaginative; but the less they
left to the m ind’s eye, the more threatening they became. T h e best
threat is the one that really lets you know, in specific detail, what
physical anguish is all about. T h e more creative the scribe, the more
delicate the detail, as in this quaint suggestion at the end o f a Bible
written and illuminated at the Premonstratensian abbey o f Arnstein,
near Coblenz (Plate 25).84 The scribe, probably Brother Lunardus,
wrote in 1172:28
 Book of [the Abbey o f} Saints Mary and Nicholas of Arnstein: If
anyone take away this book, let him die the death; let him be fried
in a pan; let the falling sickness and fever seize him; let him be broken
on the wheel, and hanged. Amen*
Liber sancte Marie sanctiq; Nycolai in Arinstein: quern si quis abstulerit,
morte moriatur; in sartagine coquatur; caducus morbus instet eum et febres;
et rotatur, et suspendatur. Amen.
London, British Museum, Ms. Harley
2798, folio 235 verso.21
N ot specific enough? T h en let us turn to the Monastery o f San
Pedro in Barcelona:
ANATHEMA! 88
•In another source the translation of the
same words reads “boiled in a cauldron” in­
stead of “fried in a pan.”*1The actual mean­
ing may well be either; I suggest one simply
choose whichever is the more disquieting.
The “falling sickness” is epilepsy. An ancient
cure, recorded by Pliny, was to thrust a nail
into the ground where the epileptic had
fallen. The disease would be transferred to
the nail and thence to the ground, leaving
.’2
the victim free

For him that stealeth, or borroweth and returneth not, this book from
its owner, let it change into a serpent in his hand &. rend him. Let
him be struck with palsy, &. all his members blasted. Let him languish
in pain crying aloud for mercy, &. let there be no surcease to his
agony till he sing in dissolution. Let bookworms gnaw his entrails in
token of the Worm that dieth not,t & when at last he goeth to his fO ne of the pains of Hell, mentioned in
final punishment, let the flames of Hell consume him for ever.24 Mark and Isaiah, was to have one’s soul de­
voured eternally by a worm (or serpent or
dragon)."
O nce we regain our composure, we notice the emphasis on unpleasant
creatures dispensing ultimate discomforts. For some reason pigs, too,
joined the ranks with a poor public image—at least as far as Sim on
Vostre o f Paris was concerned in 1502. Com pleting a Book o f Hours,
he left no sty unturned in warning
 Whoever steals this Book of Prayer
May he be ripped apart by swine,
His heart be splintered, this I swear,
And his body dragged along the Rhine.
{Old French:}
Descire soit de truyes et porceaulx
Et puys son corps trayne en leaue du Rin
Le cueur fendu decoupe par morceaulx
Qui ces heures prendra par larcin.
[Modem French:} Plate 25: THE TWO SAINTS’ BO O K
Déchiré soit de truies et pourceaux CURSE. Surely anyone can curse, given
Et puis son corps traîne en l’eau du Rhin the motivation—and book theft was
Le coeur fendu découpé par morceaux certainly sufficient cause. But in the
Qui ces Heures prendra par larcin. maelstrom o f medieval maledictae one
Paris, PML 18206, occasionally sees the work o f a master. So
inner upper cover10’ 38 credit should be given to Brother
Lunardus who, c. 1172, to keep his book
People have for ages known the value of responsive reading; draw from being stolen from the Abbey o f Sts.
the fellow in, make him part o f it, and you make a stronger impression. Mary and Nicholas, neatly combined
Credit one scribe, therefore, near the end of the Middle Ages, with death, boiling alive, epilepsy, fever,
creating an anathem a unique in its approach: dismemberment, and strangulation without
the least bit o f maudlin sentimentality and
in a directness o f point and economy o f
He that steals this booke
wording. (London, The British Library,
Shall be hanged on a hooke.
Ms. Harley 1798, folio 235 verso)
He that this book stelle wolde,
Sone be his herte colde.
 That it may so be, ANATHEMA
Seith Amen for charite.
15th century(?y3

A bbot W hethamstede o f St. A lbans considered hanging a pun­

ishm ent worth the crime. W hen a volume o f Valerius Maximus was
produced under his direction, he ordered the following anathema
inserted:

If anyone steals this book may he come to the gallows or the rope
of Judas.
Oxford, Bodleian Library,
Humphrey’s Manuscript43

I point it out because reference to the rope o f Judas is rare (the

previously m entioned anathema of Bernhard o f M ontfaulcon is the
only other one I’ve found). A nd I wonder if the suggestion could
be, since the rope apparently refers to Judas’s suicide by hanging, a
curse o f being driven— by remorse— to suicide.
My favorite anathema intrigues me not for the words alone, but
for the way in which the anonymous medieval scribe set it down.
It appears thus:

Sor sup no scrip li poti

te er rum tor bri atur
Mor inf no rap li mori51
which is an ingenious way of writing ANATHEMA! 91

Sorte supernorum scriptor libri potiatur

Morte infernorum raptor libri moriatur

In English, rhymed, it might be loosely arranged as

wrote procure joys life supernal;

May he who this book the of
steals endure pangs death infernal.38

A curse laid today, for whatever good reason, can in some cases
become a problem tomorrow. A book was often legitimately traded
or sold. A long with it, neatly inscribed, went its anathema, and a
problem for the new owner. In 1327 the Bishop o f Exeter was
confronted with this problem, hence the dual notations in a copy
o f the works o f Augustine and Ambrose now in the Bodleian Library,
Oxford University. First, the anathema:

This book belongs to St. Mary of Robert’s Bridge; whoever steals it,
or sells it, or takes it away from this house in any way, or injures it,
let him be anathema-maranatha.54’ 80
Liber S. Marine de Ponte Roberti, qui eum abstulerit, aut vendiderit, vel
quolibet modo ab hac domo alienaverit, vel quamlibet ejus partem abscideret,
sit anathema maranatha. Amen.
And beneath it, John added as best he could: ANATHEMA!
1, John, bishop of Exeter, do not know where the said house is: I did
not steal this book, but got it lawfully.54, 80
Ego, Joannes, Exon Epus, nescio ubi est domus predicta, nec hunc librum
abstuli, sed modo legitimo adquisivi.

Jo h n ’s emphatic response may have been instigated by the particular

nastiness o f the anathema, for it threatened not just anathem a but
anathem a-m aranatha. It is appropriately a phrase “full o f sound and
fury, signifying nothing,” as curse-acquainted Shakespeare put it.
M aranatha is Aram aic for “O ur Lord has com e” or “O, our Lord,
Com e T h o u ” (see 1 Corinthians 16:22). It was believed by some that
to com bine it with anathema, as in anathem a-m aranatha, was to increase
the potency enormously. Thus it becomes the highest degree o f
excom m unication,64 although what this might be is not explained—
or too terrible to discuss? Its use is interesting because the vast
proportion o f medieval people were uneducated, so Latin was to
many, because o f its C hurch use, awe-inspiring. It was therefore not
uncom m on to accentuate something by adding a phrase in gibberish
whose sound was similar to a Latin C hurch invocation, in order to
make it more impressive.
Robert C olston faced an almost similar dilemma. T h e book he
acquired contained, at its end:

Ihesus marya.
Mysterys felys* owyth thys boke: •Mistress Phyllis?
 and she yt lose, and you yt fynde, ANATHEMA! 93
I pray you to take the payne
to bryng my boke home agayne.
Ihesus maria.17
London, British Museum,
Ms. Eg. 1,151, leaf 159

It wasn’t really a curse (short o f the implied responsibility), but the

suggestion might remain that he’d stolen it; so Robert felt called
upon to set the record straight. Uncursed, he felt in light enough
mood to have fun with the situation, and therefore created a bilingual
rhyming response:

Iste liber attinet {this book belongs],

deny it if you can,
Ad me {to me], Robbertum Colston,
a very honest man.17

Earlier in this chapter I m entioned that the first, or rather the

oldest-known, anathema that specifically refers to excom m unication—
the curse that gave anathema its nam e— was created in 627. 1 had
a reason for not quoting it: I m entioned that anathema did not
follow a particular evolution, but varied in length, cleverness, and
aggression dependent solely upon the scribe’s interest, ability, and
familiarity with the vituperation o f his contemporaries and those
who had preceded him for many centuries. T o find a logical course
through this chaos o f curses I arbitrarily chose to introduce first the
simplest and then those involving specific additional elem ents—God,
 Christ, Hell, physical pain, disease, extended durations, biblical ref­ ANATHEMA! 94
erences, posterity, recourse to absolution, etc.—and then com binations
o f two or more o f the above.
It is ironic that the earliest known truly “anathem atic” anathema
contains every one o f the above elements. T o quote it now brings
us conveniently full circle. T o have quoted it earlier would have, in
a manner o f speaking, brought us to the end just as we were about
to begin.
T h e curse was apparently called for because in 627 a book was
given to the A bbey o f St.-D enis.95 W hether it was because the donor
was so im portant, the book so valuable, or the act so surprising, we
no longer know; but something caused the scribe to ascend into such
florid, exuberant, formal Latin, in such compound and complex
phraseology, that no one in the intervening 1,356 years has apparently
succeeded in translating what the scribe thought he was writing. A t
the same time it is inconceivable to suffer the loss o f the seminal
anathema simply because it is archaic gibberish. It certainly wasn’t
to him. So the problem was approached as an archaeologist might
a trash-bin o f disassociated pottery pieces: all the individual shards
(or phrases) were gathered together and then, with the knowledge
o f the shape o f different pots (or different curses) being known, the
pieces were moved here and there until they formed a recognizable
whole. As a result,* I believe it is safe to assume that the classic in *It would have been impossible to put the
this field (overlooking the cracks and holes) reads as follows: curse back together had not Michael W.
O ’Laughlin been so interested and expert in
putting the pieces into English and helping
Therefore I entreat . . . God and the Angels and . . . every nation of me position them.
mankind, whether near or far, that no hindrance presumes against my
 work. If [anyone] acts against my work with his hands, would that ANATHEMA! 95
the Eternal King [take] this cursed person and lower [him] into the
lowest level of Hell [to be] tortured with Judas, and anathema and
maranatha. [Let him also receive] by the hand of God the cruellest
plague [and both he and his] sons struck with leprosy so that no one
inhabit his house. [However, if he pays] double the value of [this
work] in money, let him be absolved.15
Propterea rogo et contestor coram Deo et Angelis eius et omni natione hominum
tam propinquis quam extraneis, ut nullus contra deliberationem meam
impedimentum S. Dionysio de hac re facere praesumat; si fuerit, quia manus
suas ad hoc apposuerit faciendo, aeternus rex peccata mea absolvat et ille
maledictus in inferno inferiori et anathema et Maranatha percussus cum Juda
cruciandis descendat, et peccatum quern amittit in filios et in domo sua
crudelissime plaga ut leprose pro huius culpa a Deo percussus, ut non sit
qui inhabitet in Domo eius, ut eorum plaga in multis timorem concutiat, et
quantum res ipsa meliorata valuerit, duplex satisfactione fisco egenti exsolvat.

This curious history could, but doesn’t, end here. For we have
left Jo h n , the Bishop o f Exeter, the uncom fortable object o f a curse
he didn’t incur. It shouldn’t be our intention to take advantage o f
his predicament, but his situation does open another vituperative
vista for anathemas.
Jo h n was faced with the fact that the anathema was— or better
yet was part o f— a statement o f ownership. A title was backed by a
threat. It should not be surprising, then, that scribes who worked
on books and were also employed in copying documents should see
the advantage in protecting a charter or title with an anathema, just
as they had a book. Such anathemas do exist, and I include a few
here because they are also fine examples o f naked aggression. From ANATHEMA! 96
a Cartulary o f the M onastery o f St. Pere I in 1053:

If anyone tries to diminish my gift or to lessen anything at all in this

undertaking, may he be struck with the curse of Ham who in derision
pointed out the naked body of his father to his brothers and may he
also along with Dathan and Abiron whom the earth swallowed up
alive and with Judas the betrayer who hanged himself and with Nero
who crucified Peter and beheaded Paul. Unless he comes to his senses
and make amends, may he suffer punishment in hell with the devil. . . 15
Si quis autem huic largitioni meae contraire aut minuere ex hac re quippiam
temptaverit, maledictione Cham, qui patris pudenda dendenda fratribus
ostendit, feriatur, et cum Dathan et Abiron, quos terra vivos absorbuit, et
cum Juda traditore, qui se suspendit laqueo, et cum Nerone, qui Petrum in
cruce suspendit et Paullum decollavit, nisi resipuerit et ad satisfactionibus
remedium confugerit, cum diabolo in inferno poenas luat . . .

In fact, it continues in such mounting antagonism that it cannot be

translated coherently.
Eighty-four years later, in a C harter from King Stephen to the
Priory o f Eye in Suffolk, the hostility is tempered by the soothing
clink o f coin o f the realm:85

Whoever intentionally proposes to remove, or weaken, or thwart

anything contained in this charter, let him be excommunicated, anath­
ematized, and secluded from the fellowship of God and the portals of
Holy Church by the power of Almighty God, Father, Son, and Holy
 Spirit, and the Holy Apostles, and all the Saints until he shall pay ANATHEMA! 97
out thirty pounds of gold to the royal authority. Let it be so. Amen,
amen, amen.25’ 28
Quicumque aliquid de his quae in hac carta continentur auferre, aut minuere,
aut disturbare, scienter voluerit, auctoritate dei omnipotentis patris et flii et
spiritus sancti, et sanctorum apostolorum et omnium sanctorum sit excom-
municatus, anatematizatus, et a consortio dei et liminibus sanctae ecclesiae
sequestratus donee resi piscat, et regi(a)e potestad xxx (triginta) libras auri
persolvat. Fiat, Fiat, Fiat. Amen, Amen, Amen.* *1 am indebted to Sr. Wilma Fitzgerald and
Prof. Paul Dutton of the Pontifical Institute of
Mediaeval Studies, Toronto, for this house
T h e third and last I was able to find is rather special because it transcription, which they made directly from a
damns not only the transgressor, but his entire family down to and photograph of the Charter (Plate V, Sotheby
including his great-great'great'great-great'grandchildren. A nd should Phillippica V), and for the English translation
appearing on an earlier page of this book.
that not give him pause for thought, the curse proceeded down the The Latin text differs from that published in
family line, wiping out descendants generation by generation in Dugdale’s Monusticon Anglicanum because, I am
informed, Dugdale’s version was taken from a
exponential progression per each additional transgression (see Plate 26).
Cartulary containing a copy of this Charter,
Petrus Veremudi may have had good reason for his remarkable and errors crept in along the way.
vehemence against anyone tampering with the grant he was writing
in 1226 in Andradi, Spain. His sizable estate included all his property
around the C hurch o f St. Eulalia at Bureganes, and more near the
C hurch of St. Martinus at Porto, and more near M onte Nigro, as
well as additional land and other inheritances.52 Petrus himself had
once been up to no good, so much unspecified no good in fact,
specifically in the Monastery o f St. Joh n o f Calvary, that he seriously
doubted where his soul would repose after his death. He was so
uncertain, that rather than leave his large estate to his family, he
thought it advisable to give it to the monastery—on condition that
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Tn^ £ ; ^ -^fr:r w ^ T|f - ar T t* ^

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CAr - r n nun m l» —I i -+■*' I — ,%■

Plate 26: THE CHARTER CURSE. The scribe who devoted himself to books would nonetheless
occasionally find his hand for hire in accounting, copying wills and deeds, and writing letters dictated to
him by an illiterate clientele. I f a book were valuable and merited the protection o f a curse, then a will,
grant, or deed deserved no less, for it too could be stolen or—perhaps worse—altered to suit the
perpetrator. Hence the inclusion in this Spanish charter o f 1226 o f a curse so clever that it could increase
its power twofold forever. (Courtesy o f Mr. H. Clifford Maggs, Maggs Bros. Ltd., London)
the monks hold a mass every day for his soul. Since his misdeeds left ANATHEMA! 99
his forwarding address in great doubt, the daily mass might make all
the difference, and he strongly suspected that someone in his family,
more interested in real estate than his resting place, could easily land
him in Hell by contesting the grant. So he had good reason to stipulate
that

If any one of my lineage or anyone extraneous should violate this

document, may curse and malediction and excommunication befall him,
and may he be damned in Hell like Judas who betrayed the Lord, and
may he be accursed unto the seventh generation; and in behalf of the
King may he pay for it in like manner with the addition that inasmuch
he deals fraudulently so many times (the curses) may be doubled.“

W hile the use o f anathemas may have slowed with the advent o f
printing in the mid-15th century, it did not cease. There was no
precedent for the printed book other than the handwritten one, so
all the facets o f the handwritten manuscript—from anathema to explicit,
the lack o f a title page, and the absence o f page numbers—became
the norm. Alm ost a century and a half after the arrival o f printing,
anathemas are recorded. O ne in particular was an anathema with a
vengeance. Pope Sixtus V (1585-1590) issued a Papal Bull that promised
automatic excommunication to any printer who might alter the text
o f the Vulgate Bible he had authorized to be printed. For good measure
he ordered the printers to set the anathema in type at the beginning
o f the Bible. W hen the Bible was published, however, it contained
so many errors that, when an attempt to save it by pasting in corrections
 failed, the edition was destroyed. Disconcerting as this may have been ANATHEMA! 100
to Sixtus, it is even more so to the generally held belief that the
closer one is to God, the more efficacious one’s anathematic ferocity.
T h e belief spanned cultures: the Talm ud held that a scholar’s (hence
a student o f G od ’s word) curse was incapable o f failure. T h e dying
curse o f a wizard or priest cast the greatest dread in the hearts o f
Gallas. A nd the curses o f saints and sharifs were considered, in
Muhammadan countries, to be the most potent o f all.16
Did the anathemas work? Certainly they did to a limited extent,
because if they had not been believed in, and found purposeful, they
would not have been used for more than a thousand years. The dozens
just referred to are proof enough. Isn’t it because o f those same
anathemas that the books in which they were written have survived?
If anathemas failed, in the long run, it was often not because the
books left the monastery, but because the monastery was destroyed
or dissolved, leaving the books. The only true test of the anathema’s
utility is beyond our capability: to know how many books no longer
exist which once wore their protection.
Why did anathemas go out o f fashion? There are several possibilities.
The growth o f printing finally made the production o f books so
economical that a single volume ceased to represent an enormous
expense calling for heavenly protection. T h en too, perhaps the writer—
and the reader—in later centuries lost typically medieval close asso­
ciation with religion, an association that had permeated so much o f
medieval everyday lives. A nd the anathema lost its ability to threaten.
Those who lived after the Middle Ages looked back at the past and
saw much o f it, including anathemas, as quaint and even amusing. It
became fashionable for authors and poets to express their cleverness ANATHEMA! 101
or sense o f whimsy by creating amusing anathemas; and even as late
as the 19th century, anathemas were being written inside the covers
o f textbooks by children who knew nothing o f the fine tradition of
cursing, and whose only redeeming social merit was that they were
to become our great-grandparents.
Even the anathemas that had been written in the time o f their
greatness are now seldom found. It is ironic that many o f the books
they were written to protect have survived while the anathemas were
lost: the covers within which they were written, or the first or last
pages on which they were penned, were the first to succumb either
to deterioration, misuse, or the simple fact that they were ripped away
by the thief to mask the theft.53
More anathemas were destroyed not by evil-doers, but by those
with the best o f intentions. In the 15th and 16th centuries many
monastic books—original or duplicate copies sold by monasteries, or
the former property o f monasteries in England closed in the Refor­
m ation—came on the market legitimately, and their anathemas were
therefore erased. Similarly, many 12th- and 13th-century monastic
books were, at the end o f the Middle Ages, given to colleges for their
libraries—and the anathemas removed.46
G one forever are the bulk o f anathemas whose examples, on previous
pages, probably represent only a tiny percentage. No longer does one
expect to open a book and find, ready to pounce upon one’s conscience
from across the years or centuries, the likes o f the following clutch
o f curses:
From the 8th century:

Liber Sancti
Petri Gandensis ecclesie.
Servanti benedictio,
tollenti maledictio.
Qui tulerit folium vel curtaverit,
anathema sit.
The book of Saint Peter at the church at Ghent. A blessing upon
the one who keeps it safe, a curse upon the one who removes it.
May whoever takes or cuts a page of it be accursed.
From the scriptorium of the
Monastery of St. Pierre, in Ghent50

From the 8th or 9th centuries:

Si quis ilium auferre tentaverit, judicium cum

Deo et Sancto Medardo sibi habere non dubitet.
If anyone tries to carry this book away, may he not doubt that he
will be judged in the sight of God and Saint Medardus.
From a manuscript of Cassiodorus’s
works on history, produced in the
Monastery of Monte Cassino15’ 101
* * *
A nathematizentur
 May they be accursed ANATHEMA! 103
From the scriptorium of Mayence. Rome,
Vatican Library, Pal. Lat. 577, folio 69 recto,
The Canons of Dionysius Exiguus50

From the 9th century:

Liber evangeliorum oblatus ad altare S. Stephani ex voto Agobardi episcopi.

sit utenti gratia, largitori venia, fraudanti anathema.
The book of gospels presented at the altar of Saint Stephan in accordance
with the vow of the bishop Agobardus. May grace be to the reader,
indulgence to the benefactor, and a curse upon its thief.
Written about 825'01
* * *
Nemo me credat omnino furatum,
Sed feliciter hactenus fuisse reservatum.
Non dubitet autem iram dei periculosius incurrere,
Si quis me praesumat a sancti Galli finibus spoliando auferre.
May no one believe that ever have I been taken,
But that happily this place never have I forsaken.
Yet may no one doubt that the wrath of God upon him
will fall
If he essays to take me from the confines of St. Gall.
From the scriptorium of the
Monastery of St. Gall in 880101
* * *
 Hie est liber Sancti Benedicti abbatis . . . coenobii; si quis eum aliquo ingenio ANATHEMA!
non redditurus abstraxerit, cum Juda proditore, Anna et Caipha atque Pilato
damnationem accipiat! amen.
This is the book of Saint Benedictus the abbot . . . at the monastery;
if anyone by any means takes this book away without intending to
return it, may he suffer eternal damnation with Judas the betrayer, with
Annas and Caiphas and Pilate. Amen.15

From the 10th century:

Hie est liber S. Eripii ex Riopullensi monasterio. Si quis eum furaverit vel
folias exinde abstraxerit anathema sit.
This is the book of Saint Eripius from the monastery at Ripoll. If
anyone steals this book or takes a leaf from it, may he be accursed.
From Spain101

From the 11th century:

Hunc quicumque librum Aldhelmo depresseris almo,

Damnatus semper maneas cum sorte malorum.
Sit pietate Dei sine, qui vel portet ab isto
Coenobio librum Aldhelmi hunc vel vendere temptet.
Qui legis inscriptos versus, rogitare memento
Christum ac: In requie semper, die, vivat Adhelwerd,
Qui dedit hunc thomum Aldhelmo, pro quo sibi Christus
Munera larga ferat, largitor crimina laxans.
Whoever steals this book from devoted Aldhelmus, may he
always remain damned with the lot of the wicked. May he
 be without the pity of God who carries this book of Aldhelmus ANATHEMA! 105
from this monastery or who tries to sell it. O reader of these
lines, remember to beseech Christ saying, “May Adhelwerd
always live in peace, who has given this book to Aldhelmus
in return for which may Christ bear him bounteous gifts
and pardon his sins.
From the scriptorium of Malmesbury
Cloister, now Cambridge
Cambridge, Corpus Christi Ms. 23'°'

From the 12th century:

Liber S. Marie sanctique Liborii in Patherbumen. tollenti maledictio servanti

benedictio. Si quis abstulerit vel curtaverit folium anathema sit.
The book of Saint Marie and Saint Liborius in Patherbumen. A curse
upon the one who takes this book, a blessing upon the one who keeps
it safe. If anyone removes or cuts a page, may he be accursed.
From the year 1178“"
* * *

Marcus glosatus quern dedit Lambinus de Brugis ecclesie sante Marie Ursicampi.
Si quis abstulerit vel alienaverit quoque modo: anathema sit. Amen.
This is the Gospel of St. Mark which Lambinus of Bruges gave to the
Church of St. Marie of Ourscamp. May he who takes it away or indeed
loses it in any way be anathema.
From the last page of the Gospel written
in the Cistercian Abbey of Ourscamp
in the neighborhood of Compiegne (Oise)53
 Qui librum istum furatur,
a domino maledicatur.
May he who steals this book
be cursed by the Lord.101

From the 14th century:

Qui nituntur eum auferre de fratemitate, descendant in infernum viventes cum

Dathan et Abyron.
May those who endeavor to remove this book from the brotherhood,
while still living descend into Hell with Dathan and Abiron.
From the year 139410'

From the 15th century:

Qui che live emblera

A gibet de Paris pendu sera,
Et, si n’est pendu, il noiera,
Et, si ne noie, il ardera,
 Et, si n’aert pitte fm fern. ANATHEMA! 107
[A corrected reading of the last line:
Et, si n’art, pire fin fera.}
Whoever steals this book
Will hang on a gallows in Paris,
And, if he isn’t hung, he’ll drown,
And, if he doesn’t drown, he’ll roast,
And, if he doesn’t roast, a worse end will befall him.
From a manuscript in the collection of
Jean d’Orleans, comte d ’-Angouleme95
* * *

No mon this book he take away,

Ny kutt owte noo leef, y say for why;
For hyt ys sacrelege, sirus, y yow say,
[He] beth acursed in the dede truly; . . .
At the end of a manuscript composed
by blind and deaf John Au>delay, at the
monastery of Haughmond, 1426.14

From the 16th century:

My master’s name above you se,

Take heede therefore you steale not mee;
For if you doe, without delay
Your necke . . . for me shall pay.
Looke doune below and you shal see
The picture of the gallowstree;
 Take heede therefore of thys in time, ANATHEMA!
Lest on this tree you highly clime.95

* * *

Thomas Hyllbrond owe this book,

Whosoever will yt tooke,
Whoso stellyt shall be hangyd,
By ayre, by water, or by lande.
With a hempen bande.
God is where he was.
A° Vi. R. Edwardi vi.
From a Sarum manuscript95

From the 17th century:

Who lets this book be lost,

Or doth embesell yt,
God’s curse will to his cost,
Give him plagues in hell fytt.
In the church register of
Sowe, Warwickshire, 162i9>

And date unspecified:

Flic est liber S. Maximini, quern Flaw armarius Deo et S. M. scribere fecit,
tali tenore ut si quis eum ab oc loco non redditurus abstraxerit, cum diabolo
damnationem accipiat. Amen. Fiat.
This is the book of Saint Maximinus which Hato, the librarian, com­
missioned to be written for God and Saint Maximinus at such expense
that if anyone removes it from this place without intending to return
it, may he be damned along with the devil. Amen. So be it.101
* * *

Offendit Christum, / qui librum subtrahit istum.

He offends Christ / who removes this book.101
* * *

Expl.(icit) tractatus ab Alberto Col. composite de plantacionibus arborum.

Ne fiat raptus liber plantantibus aptus, Obsenietur ne cui nequam tribuetur
(sic).
This treatise on the planting of trees written by Albertus Col. for
planters is finished. That this book may not be stolen, may it be guarded
and may it not be given up to any worthless person.101

* * *

This blessed book belongs to the church of the monastery of Sinai,

and whosoever takes it away or tears a leaf from it, may the Virgin be
a foe to him, and may his fate be one with the fate of Judas Iscariot.
Arabic inscription on the fly-leaf of a
Syriac manuscript in the Public Library,
Leningrad95
 Who folds a leafe downe
&Q MOV
ye divel toaste browne,
Who makes marke or blotte cvMycut. -rficd/
ye divel roaste hot, kut* U-e UjuM\
Who stealeth thisse boke
. P/hf /Tab /Tab.
ye divel shall cooke.95
* * *
Plate 27: HER M A JESTY ’S POSTAL
Qui te furetur, CURSE. We are to blame for the
cum Juda dampnificetur. disappearance o f the book curse: if one
doesn’t fear it, it no longer holds any
May he who steals you validity. Prof. H. David Harvey employed
be damned along with Judas.101 a book curse, slightly altered, to protect
* * * an envelope o f reference material on its
journey through the British Postal System.
Thys boke ys sancht audatys; The envelope arrived damaged. Not only
he yt stelys this boke shall be haulynht by ye neck. had the curse not protected it, but an
From a late Manuale. anonymous governmental hand had added
London, British Museum a brief comment in one word, clearly
Ms. 30,506, leaf 170m indicating a reaction other than fear. Sad,
indeed, to see so ancient an aspect o f
literary history die, and in no less ancient
a land than England. But what other
T h at the anathemas died, we can hold only ourselves to blame,
land can boast a governmental branch
because we have lost ability to fear them. This was brought home to that not only appears medieval in
me, both figuratively and literally, when a large envelope o f reference operation, but is staffed by civil servants
material for this book arrived recently at my doorstep. The material still fluent in 13th-century Anglo-Saxon?
had been gathered for me by Prof. Harvey who, because he labors in
the Department o f Classics at the University o f Exeter, England, and
is an expert in matters o f Greek antiquity, is a friend whom I can ANATHEMA!
affectionately say was born 2,000 years behind his time. Concerned for
the safety o f the material he was sending me, he had carefully inscribed
on the face o f the envelope (Plate 27)
PI F ASF. DO NOT BEND
If anyone shall bend this, let him lie
under perpetual malediction. Fiat fiat
fiat. Amen.
A t some point on its way through Her Majesty s Postal System someone
read the anathema and was moved to action. Compelled to respond
to this ancient literary genre in equally archaic manner, he took pen
in hand and countered in precise Anglo-Saxon, in usage familiar as
far back, at least, as the 13th century:62' “• 102

FART

and bent the envelope.

T h e heyday o f the anathema is now half a thousand years behind
us. No longer does the handling o f a book invoke the wonders of
disembowelment and damnation. Gone are the rack, the gallows, even
the killer pigs o f the Rhine. Open a book today and you realize how
an eloquently deep past has become a shallow present. Where once
echoed the fury o f God now lies an insipid whimper:

A fine o f 5<f per day will be charged . . .

 APPENDIX
A CONFUSION OF BOOKS

Bring with thee the books, especially the parchments.

St. Paul to Timothy, 2 Eph. iv.1355

# * *

It is finished—let it finish!
Let the scribe go out to play.17
Explicit—Expliceat!
Ludere scriptor eat.
Scribe’s final line in a
medieval manuscript.

s precious and as rare as books were, a religious life demanded that many be on hand.
A Because the same book often had different titles, and because differing arrangements of
contents led to different titles, it can be confusing to understand what is specifically referred
to. Following are some titles that would have been most common and in greatest demand at
various times during the Middle Ages and shortly thereafter. All are service, instruction, or
record books* Not included are the works of Classical and medieval authors, teachers, and 113
philosophers, although copies of their works were considered vital acquisitions. This list gives
a brief idea of how much work the medieval scribe could find given the time and why
1 r j- 1 l . r . 30 33 35, 45, 51, 57, 70, 89, 104, 107
he was so necessary a part or medieval lire. •

ACCENTUARIUS A guide to the pronunciation of the penúltima. Later a

part of the BREVIARY.

AGENDA See MANUAL.

ANTIPHON ARIUM From Antiphon, a sentence recited before and after each
ANTIPHONARY psalm: a liturgical book for the choir’s use, containing the
ANT1PHONER antiphons and antiphonal chants which were sung at the
Canonical Hours and at Mass, as well as the Invitatories,
Hymns, Responds, Versicals, Collects and Capitula. Today
the name refers only to those portions of the BREVIARY
that are sung. The book was usually massive in page size
so that a single copy, placed before the choir, could be
read by all. Also called, in Rome, a CANTATORIUM.
See also COUCHER.

APOSTOLUS See LECTIONARY.

BAPTISTERIUM Probably the earliest form of MANUALE, notable for its

inclusion of material on the Rite of Baptism.

•For a clear and interesting account of the origin and meaning of the multitude of prayers, forms of service,
rituals, etc., of the Catholic and Anglican churches which resulted in the production of these books, see Henry
Barclay Sw'ete, Church Services and Service-Books Before the Reformation (London and New York, 1905); and Christo­
pher Wordsworth and Henry Littlehales, The Old Service-Books of the English Church (London, 1904).
BENEDICTIONAL A book containing the forms of episcopal benedictions ANATHEMA! 114
or blessings; specifically including the consecration of an
abbot.
BIBLE A gathering of the Old and New Testaments. Because of
BIBLIA its size, it often consisted of more than one volume. The
BIBLIOTHECA name is derived from the fact that in earliest times papyrus
was exported to Mediterranean centers through the port
of Byblos. Biblos, in Greek, meant “book” as well as
“papyrus,” and the most important of all books came to
be called by that name.
BOOK OF COMMON The successor to all service books, in the Anglican Church,
PRAYER as of June 9, 1549. Almost invariably, each section of the
book represented an earlier service book. See BREVIARY.
BOOK OF HOURS A book designed for the laity, and small in size so that
it could be carried to and from services. Its contents
included the Calendar of Saints, four Gospel lessons, the
order of service for each Canonical Hour, a Litany, Pen­
itential Psalms, and the Office for the Dead. It was not
uncommon for the owner of this volume to insert or pay
a scribe to insert additional prayers that might be especially
helpful, depending on the owner’s needs or afflictions. See
also PRIMER.
BREVARIUM The equivalent of the BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER
BREVIARY with the Proper Lessons, but lacking the Occasional Offices
and the Communion Service. First known as a single
volume in 1099, the Roman BREVIARY had earlier con­
sisted of four divisions—PARS HIEMALIS, PARS VER­
NA, PARS ESTIVA, and PARS AUTUMNALIS—the
 first and third of which, after about 1494, replaced the APPENDIX 115
PORTIFORIA. The BREVIARY consisted of a Calendar
of Saints, a PSALTER with VERSICALS and responses
for each of the weekday Hours, and sometimes also the
Small Offices. The BREVIARY was compiled for use in
church and for priests’ private recitations. See also PORTAS
and TO TU M (a complete BREVIARY). In England the
BREVIARY was called a PORTIFORIUM, probably for
the simple reason that it was portable. After the PRIMER
and PSALTER, it was the book most likely owned by lay
people.

CALENDAR See KALENDAR.

CANONS The rules or laws or commandments of the Church. The

oldest part of the Roman Mass. Canon, in Greek kanon,
originally meant a “rod,” and later any rule promoted by
a rod or force.

CANON MISSAE The CANON of the Mass lettered on rolls.

CANT ATORIUM See ANTIPHONARY.

CAPITULARY The collection of ordinances drawn up by the kings of

CAPITULUM the Franks, notably Charlemagne.

CARTULARY The place where all the papers or records of a monastery

CHARTULARY were kept, or the book into which they have been copied.
From the Latin cartularium and chartularium,M See also
LEGER and LEDGER.

CHRONICLES Monasteries invariably kept continuing records of their

activities, and added to the pages whenever possible was
 in form ation ab out the outside world learned from passersby ANATHEMA!
and from m onks returning from pilgrimages and errands.
Because monks were sometimes called upon to help with
secular paperwork outside the monastery, the details of
these matters were sometimes added. Larger monasteries,
given sufficient staff and inclination, had monks who
devoted themselves to writing out the histories of their
countries from the beginning of time to the then-present
day.9 While the records of the monastery were important
to its inhabitants (often being the deciding factor when
ancient land rights were questioned), a good portion of
what we know of medieval Western history is the result
of accumulated CHRONICLE notations made in idle
curiosity; such CHRONICLES are in many cases the only
surviving documents of their time.
COLLATIONUM LIBER Book for Lenten readings.
COLLECT ARIUM Shorter lessons with Collects or short prayers. See also
COLLECT ARIUS.
COLLECT ARIUS This may be another name for COLLECTARIUM. But
I have seen mention of it only once, and then referred
to as an extremely rare liturgical volume designed especially
for a bishop’s use, and so I include it separately. The
contents of one produced in about 1153 for the bishop
of Constance Cathedral included the complete TEM ­
PORAL from Christmas Eve to the fourth Sunday of
Advent, the SANCTORALE, Common Prayers and bene­
dictions for daily rounds, church dedication and anni­
versary, the bishop’s birthday, on the occasions of em-
 barking on a journey and traveling by sea, and in the APPENDIX 117
events of war and of plague, etc.85

COLLECT-BOOK Correctly COLLECT AND CHAPTER-BOOK. See COL-

LECTARIUM and COLLECTARIUS.

COMES See LECTIONARY.

COMMUNE DE TEMPORE See PSALTER.

COSTUMARY The book of customs (the ritual and ceremonial usages)

CONSUETUDINARIUS of a monastic establishment or order. Not to be inter­
CONSUETUDINARY changeable with RULE.

COPY BOOK See MODEL BOOK.

COUCHER See LEGER.

COWCHER
DIRECTORIUM See ORDINALE.

DIRGE-BOOK The Office for the Dead.

DIURNALE BOOK OF HOURS of the Day, covered by the BREVIARY.

In use until 1549.

ENCHIRIDION See FLORILEGIUM.

EPISTOLARIA See LECTIONARY.

EPISTOLARIUM
EPISTOLARY
EVANGELIARIA The GOSPELS. See LECTIONARY.
EVANGELIARIUM
EVANGELISTARIUM
EXULTET ROLL A roll containing a portion of the Easter Even Services. ANATHEMA! 118
FLORILEGIUM The title given to an ENCHIRIDION or personal notebook.
St. Augustine defined it as “a book not for the shelf or
the cupboard, but for the hands.” In it the monk jotted
down anything and everything that attracted his interest,
making it a scrapbook of useful or simply curious infor­
mation. If he were an author, the FLORILEGIUM might
be the means of collecting information to be later reworked
and reorganized as a formal presentation. But it was not
uncommon for an author simply to recopy the FLORI­
LEGIUM neatly, without any changes, and distribute it.
This in itself was considered a worthwhile literary con­
tribution. The word in Latin means a gathering of flowers;
for that is all it was—a gathering, without organization
or particular reason—of whatever appealed to the monk.8*
Any original FLORILEGIUM is usually sloppily written,
with lines of text and margins uneven. It is thus a joy
to the eye of the modern calligrapher who feels daunted
by the grace and uniformity of almost any other medieval
manuscript; it is proof that most medieval scribes were
unable to write neatly without first ruling guidelines. Their
basic inability is immediately evident because the FLOR­
ILEGIUM was the only manuscript in which they wrote
without first preparing guidelines.
GOSPELS The first four books of the New Testament, comprising
the teachings of Christ and the Apostles.
*Thus the term anthology, from the Greek anthos (flower) and lego (gather); an anthologia (flower-gathering), or
collection of extracts from one or many sources.30
GRADALE The GRADUALS or Psalms which are sung between the APPENDIX 119

GRADUAL Epistle and the GOSPEL; quite often also included the
GRAIL music for the liturgy of the Mass and other parts of the
GRAYLE service to be sung. It later included the TROPER. See
also MISSAL and TROPER.

HOMILARIES A collection of books of sermons used by clergymen who

were unable to, or chose not to, write their own.

HOMILIARIUS See LEGENDA.

HORAE See BOOK OF HOURS

HYMNARIUM Collection of Office Hymns which were contained, after

HYMNARY the 11th century, in the BREVIARY or ANTIPHON ARY.

JOURNAL See DIURNALE.

KALENDAR The KALENDAR, or main list of fixed festivals listed

chronologically for the given year, never appeared as a
volume in itself, but was part of the BREVIARY. I list it
here separately because, since KALENDARS were of such
importance, their pages were often decorated, and modern
publishers reproducing medieval art frequently illustrate
their books with KALENDARS and give the impression
that they may have been books in themselves. KALEN-
DARS are beneficial to paleographers because they list
saints and ceremonies of interest only in the locale for
which the KALENDAR was prepared, so that a BREV-
IARY’s KALENDAR often contains the clues as to where
it originated (or was destined). And KALENDARS are
valuable to calligraphers looking for authentic letter shapes:
 the letter k is rarely used in manuscript texts but can ANATHEMA
always be found in the KALENDAR.
LECTIONARIUM The parts of the Epistles and GOSPELS to be read aloud
LECTIONARY on specific days of the Church year. Also called an
EPISTOLARY, EPISTOLARIUM , A PO STO LUS and
COMES.
LEGENDA Sermons, hagiographies (lives of the saints), lessons from
LEGENDARIUS the BIBLE (SERMOLOGUS), and all the passages read
at Matins, to be used at divine services. The LEGENDA
originally consisted of the SERMOLOGUS and HOMI-
LIARIUS (patristic sermons and expositions), PASSION-
ARIUS (sufferings of the Martyrs) and LEGENDARIUS
(Acts of the Saints). It later became part of the MISSAL.
See MISSAL.
LEGER A general term meaning any Service book (most likely
an ANTIPHONER, LEGENDER, BREVIARY, or MIS­
SAL) so large that it was inconvenient to hold upright
or to store on end. It was therefore kept lying down and
infrequently or never moved. From the French “to lie
down” and therefore understandably also called a
COUCHER or COWCHER; also, from the Latin “book
lying down,” called a LIBER DORMIENS.
LEDGER A book of accounts and/or records, probably so large
that its name originated in LEGER. See LEGER and
CARTULARY.
LIBER DORMIENS See LEGER.
LIBER MATUTINALIS A counterpart to the DIURN ALE. See DIURN ALE. APPENDIX 121

LIBER PONTIFICALIS See PONTIFICAL.

LIBRA SACRAMENTORUM See SACRAMENTARY.

LIBRI POENITENTIALES See POENITENTIAL.

LITANIES See PROCESSIONAL.

MANUAL A small book of instruction (probably at first called a

MANUALE BAPTISTERIUM ) comprising the Occasional Services
MANUELL (baptism, marriage and burial, Office for the Dead, and
LITANY). Those services which were to be performed
only by a bishop were written in the PONTIFICALE.
The MANUAL was also called an AGENDA, a MAN-
UALE, MANUELL, a PASTORALE, a SACRAMEN­
TALE, SACRAMENTARIUM and, on the continent of
Europe, a RITUALE.

MARTILOGE A more-complete KALENDAR. See KALENDAR.

MARTYROLOGY
MARTYROLOGIUM
MISSAL For the missa (thus mass). A service book in which many
MISSALE different materials were gathered. In the 9th century it
MISSALE PLENARIUM was occasionally called a MISSALE PLENARIUM. From
MISSALE SPECIALE the 7th century onward it was known as a SACRA­
MENTARY and contained the COLLECTS, Secrets, Pre­
faces, CANONS, and Post-Communions. The GOSPELS,
Lessons, Epistles, and sung portions of the Mass were
housed in other volumes, and all the volumes together
were known as a MISSALE PLENARIUM. When it became ANATHEMA! 122
customary to put everything in one volume, the second
word was eliminated. By gathering everything together
the resultant volume was so large and expensive that some
churches, particularly in Germany and Switzerland, used
abridged versions containing only the text of Masses for
Sundays and special feast days. This was called a MISSALE
SPECIALE. At some point, the MISSAL included the
PROCESSIONAL and LITANIES, the LECTIONARY,
EVANGELISTARIUM, GRADALE and the TROPER.
A manuscript owned by a scribe or the property of a
scriptorium. Also known as a COPY BOOK. It contained
alphabets in various scripts, brief passages of religious
services, perhaps also decorative designs—anything a scribe
might have to look up to refresh his memory. Scribes
who owned their own MODEL BOOKS could become
quite protective of them; borrowing one without permis­
sion could lead to physical violence, and there is one
recorded case of the borrower being slain. The culprit was
understandably, as any calligrapher today would appreciate,
pardoned. See also PATTERN BOOK.
Rules for finding the correct sequence for different parts
of the service, which could change due to movable feasts.
Known as a PICA or PICA DE SARUM, and as a PIE
because of its “pied” appearance due to the initial letters
all being written in red. The ORDINAL later became part
of the MISSAL.
PARS HIEMALIS Divisions of the Roman BREVIARY when it was not APPENDIX 123

PARS VERNA produced as a single volume. See BREVIARY.

PARS ESTIVA
PARS AUTUMNALIS
PASSIONAL Accounts of the lives of the saints and martyrs. Rendered
PASSIONARIUS unnecessary by the 11th-century arrival of the BREVIARY.
See also LEGENDA.

PASTORAL See MANUAL.

PASTORALE
PATTERN BOOK Like a COPY BOOK or MODEL BOOK, but specifically
containing partial and complete drawings and complex
patterns which the scribe (or illuminator in later times)
could refer to as needed. The designs and drawings in a
PATTERN BOOK might be outlined with pin-holes, as
a means of transferring the outlines to the page on which
the artist was working. The PATTERN BOOK design was
brushed with pounce, which would filter through the pin­
holes and create a dotted pattern of powder on the working
sheet. See MODEL BOOK.

PENITENTIAL See POENITENTIAL.

PICA Also called a DIRECTORIUM. The PICA was at some

PICA DE SARUM late date included in the BREVIARY. See ORDINAL and
PIE BREVIARY.
PYE
POCKET BREVIARY See PORT AS and BREVIARY.
POENITENTIAL A m anual o f disciplinary instructions; a collection o f ANATHEMA
CANONS th at set the exact penance for each sin specified.
See CANON.
PONTIFICAL The ceremonies and offices performed specifically by a
PONTIFICALE bishop, including the BENEDICTIONAL; i.e., to confirm,
ordain, and consecrate churches and churchyards; bless
everyone and everything dedicated to God’s service, be
it abbot, abbess, king, queen, vestment, or book; expel
the penitents and reconcile them after their penance.
PORTACE A BREVIARY written in such small script and on such
PORTAS thin vellum pages that it could be conveniently carried
PORTASSE by a traveling cleric. It later came to mean any MANUAL
PORTATILIA of philosophy or some other subject. After about 1494
PORTEFORS the PORTACE was divided into two volumes, the PARS
PORTHOS HIEMALIS and PARS ESTIVA. See BREVIARY.
PORTHORS
PORTIFORIUM
PORTOS
PORTOUS
PORTUISSE
PORTUORIE
PRICKSONG A book of written descant or accompanying melody for
a plain-song; or a book of organ music. So called because
the music was “pricked”, i.e., written, as opposed to sung
by ear or from memory.
PRIMARIUM A devotional BOOK OF HOURS that was part of the
PRIMER PSALTER until the 13th century; the standard lay pray-
PRIMMER erbook and thus the one religious book most likely to APPENDIX
PRYMER be owned by an individual. The first record of its existence
as a separate volume, known as a PRIMARIUM, occurs
in 1294 and may refer to the Prime, or first of the Hours.
In 1539 the bishop of Rochester suggested that the title
was so-called because PRIMMERS were “the first books
in which the young were instructed.” The collection of
the Hours of the Virgin, the Office for the Dead, and the
LITANY later had its name, PRIMARIUM, Anglicized to
PRIMMER, PRYMER or PRIMER. Since it was a personal
rather than Service book, it was decorated at the owner’s
whim and wealth.
PROCESSIONAL The services including the LITANIES (from the Greek
PROCESSIONALE for supplication) involved in a procession or march of
church dignitaries around the building or to or from the
altar. Royal decree in England abolished processions in
1547: the king* was annoyed by the cacophony that arose
among those in the procession who objected to their
assigned locations in the procession which indicated, like
seating above and below the salt at table, their importance.
PROPRIUM SANCTORUM See SANCTORALE.
PRYMER See PRIMER.
PSALTER A collection of Psalms, divided into eight sections (one

’ Probably not Henry VIII, as he spent the first 28 days of 1547 unpleasantly but successfully dying. More likely
his son Edward VI who, as a nine-year-old in the procession, might easily have been displeased (if not frightened)
by the malcontents.
 for each day plus Vespers), designed to be read through ANATHEMA! 126
every week. Generally included were a KALENDAR, the
Canticles, the Athanasian Creed and LITANY. It was used
by monks and by laymen, the most important and most
common devotional book in the early Middle Ages. The
nonliturgical PSALTER contained Psalms without inter­
vening material. The liturgical PSALTER was a Service
book with ANTIPHONS, etc., following certain Psalms.
By the 13th century the Office for the Dead became
included in the PSALTER. Also called a COMMUNE
DE TEMPORE.
PYE-BOOK See ORDINAL.
QUIRES Small copy-books stitched but not bound. Not to be
QUATERNIONES confused with COPY BOOK.
REGULA See RULE.
RESPONSORARY Perhaps another name for ANTIPHONALE and GRAD­
RESPONSORY UAL. A book of music for anthems in which a soloist
and choir alternate responsively.
RITUALE See MISSAL and MANUAL.
RULE A statement of the purpose for the establishment of a
monastic community, and a detailing of the responsibilities
and requirements imposed upon each member of the
community.
SACRAMENTAL An early MISSAL without Epistles or GOSPELS, designed
SACRAMENT ARIUM as a Service book for bishops. It was replaced by the
SACRAMENTARY MISSAL in the later Middle Ages. See MISSAL and APPENDIX 127
MANUAL.
SANCTORAL That part of the MISSAL and BREVIARY relating to
SANCTORALE offices pertinent to saints’ days. See MISSAL and BREV­
IARY.
SARUM USE A medieval modification, by the diocese of Salisbury in
the 11th century, of the BOOK OF HOURS and MISSAL.
By the end of the Middle Ages this version was the most
common in use in England. “Sarum” is the name of the
original Roman fort and settlement which became the
diocese of Salisbury. See BOOK OF HOURS and MISSAL.

SERMOLOGUS See LEGENDA.

SHRIFT-BOOK See POENITENTIAL.

STANDARDS Perhaps a general term for music books so large as to be

read by several persons at one time.

TABULA A paper rather than book, listing who was responsible

for each facet of every service, week by week. It was read
to all on Saturdays (after Prime) and posted. A TABULA
was also a board smeared with green wax, on whose surface
the information was scratched (the wax conveniently being
smoothed over when the information was to be changed).
Also called a WAX-BREDE or WEAX-BRED (wax-board?).
TONARIUS A collection of ANTIPHONS with tone endings. Not
TONALE required by authority.
TOTUM See BREVIARY.
TROPER A book of musical interpolations or Tropes (verses sung ANATHEMA!
with the Introit) and Sequences (hymns sung after the
GRADUAL). The TROPER was discontinued when Pope
Pius V (1566-1572) revised the MISSAL, and became part
of the latter and of the GRAIL. See MISSAL and GRAIL.
VENITARE A music book of the Invitatories at the beginning of
Mattins.
VERSICULARE A collection of verses or versicles relating to the BIBLE.
VERSICLE
VULGATE BIBLE Translation by St. Jerome of the BIBLE into Latin.
WAX-BREDE See TABULA.
WEAX-BRED
 SOURCES

Styll am I besy bokes assemblynge,

For to have plenty it is a pleasant thynge
In my conceyt, and to have them ay in honde;
But what they mene I do nat understone.
Pynson’s Ship of Fools,
edit. 1509"

1. Alexander, David, and Pat Alexander, eds. Eerdmans’ Handbook to the Bible. Grand Rapids, Mich.,
1973.
2. Alexander, J.J.G . Italian Renaissance Illumination. London, 1977.
_________ The Decorated Letter. New York, 1978.
_________ Insular Manuscripts— 6th to 9th Century. A Survey o f Manuscripts Illuminated in the British
Isles, Vol. I. London, 1978.
_________ “Scribes as Artists: The Arabesque Initial in Twelfth Century English Manuscripts.” In
M. B. Parks and Andrew G. Watson, Medieval Scribes, Manuscripts and Libraries, Essays Presented
to N. R. Ker. London, 1978.
Alexander, J. J.G., and A. C. DeLaMere. The Italian Manuscripts in the Library o f M ajor J. R. Abbey.
London, 1969.
3. Anonymous. Two References to the English Book-Trade, C irca 1525. In Bibliographica, Part II. London,
n.d.
4. Ascherl, Joseph P. “Monks and Book Publishing—Eighth Century.” In The Church Bulletin. Floral
Park, N.Y., n.d.
 5. Barlow, Frank, Kathleen M. Dexter, Audrey M. Erskine, and L. J. Lloyd. Leofric o f Exeter—Essays ANATHEMA! 130
in Commemoration o f the Foundation o f Exeter Cathedral Library in A.D. 1072. Exeter, 1972.
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Let but the morn appear, I’ll run

To every bookstall in the town.
Catullus76
EXPLICIT

This book was written for the joy

I hold in things medieval,
And as a means of expediting
All the facts’ retrieval,
On how my predecessors worked
And grumbled or found pleasure
In mundane endless copying
O f pages we now treasure.
To those who cannot write for spit
But think this book no task,
You just don’t know the half of it
So I, to Heaven, ask:
Anathema! on anyone
Who takes so little care
That this, my latest work, should chance
To fall in disrepair.
And if you steal this copy, oh,
Invidious disloyalty;
Anathema! upon your soul—
1 could have used the royalty.
Marc Drogin
V