When I began to read Sara Charles’ book, I had in my head an image of a solitary tonsured monk sitting at a desk, quill in hand, copying out a manuscript. In this fascinating account of medieval scriptoria I have found a whole series of rather different images and had to revise my preconceptions.
The author takes us through a chronological journey from manuscripts on papyrus scrolls created by monks in the early years of Christianity, through codices on vellum and paper, ending with the invention of moveable type in Western Europe in the mid-fifteenth century and the demise of the monastic scriptorium. On the way she gives us chapters on the materials used both in writing and in depiction of images, and in the bindings that protected the precious manuscripts. She also describes the development of different forms of script, that echo the development in architecture, from Romanesque to Gothic, and eventually to a classical style, Humanist developed by the Venetian printer, Manutius.
Charles writes in a very accessible way to guide the reader through a complex subject. In some chapters she begins with an imaginary scene, evoking the sentiments that might have been felt by scribes. I personally found these not to my taste, a fusing of fiction with fact, but as these introductory passages are clearly delineated by italicisation, they can be skipped.
What I found totally unexpected was the role that women played in the medieval scriptorium. We meet Paula of Rome, a scribe in a female monastery on the Aventine Hill established in the 4th century by a wealthy widow, Marcella. Paula is just one of a series of female scribes that make an appearance in the pages that follow.We are told of Sister Elsbeth Stagel, depicted writing on parchment from a 15th-century manuscript now in the Stadtbibliothek in Nürnberg in Germany. This, however, rather frustratingly is not reproduced in the book as far as I can tell, for there are no cross references to the pictures.
One image that is reproduced shows two scribes working together in a scriptorium at Echternach, now in Luxembourg. One figure is clearly a tonsured monk,the second would seem to be a layman, despite the fact that the monastic compound was traditionally forbidden to the secular community. It is possible that this imaginary depiction was created to emphasise that they were both working on an important manuscript involving the collaboration of scribes and skilled lay artists.
Secular scribes and illuminators were very much involved with the development of universities, first at Bologna, followed by Paris and Oxford. One freelance scribe, Raulinus of Framlingham, was hired in the 13th century to produce a bible in Bologna along with two artists. The man from Suffolk not only produced the bible, but also some very secular, not to say downright crude, comments about two women with whom he had relations, and whom he accused of being harlots. Records show that a close-knit community of scribes, artists and parchment sellers was based in Catte Street in Oxford, with a workshop run by Sara Bradfot around the year 1215.
The images that have come down to us suggest that the monastic scribes were well accommodated in warm surroundings and were totally absorbed in their work. But we also have record of their complaints. Some, written at the top of the page, range from ‘this wind is poisonous’ to ‘I feel quite dull to-day. I do not known what is wrong with me’.
Although the book is entitled ‘The Medieval Scriptorium’, this would seem to be a concept rather than a particular room set aside for the scribes. Some might have worked in the cloisters, where the light would be good. The carrels in the cloisters in Gloucester Cathedral might well have been one place for the scribes to tuck themselves away. Carthusians, who did not practise a communal life, probably worked from their own cells.
Charles has a good ear for a story, reproducing an Irish poem in a 9th-century primer, written from the point of view of a learned monk who observes his white cat, and compares their skills when alone together. In contrast she tells of a scribe in the Netherlands who left his unfinished work out for the night, only for a passing cat to spot it as an ideal place to urinate. Ears in fact crop up regularly, for wax from monastic ears proved an ideal ingredient when added to egg clair to stick gold leaf to parchment. Lightboxes also make an unexpected appearance, used to copy images by illuminating them from behind. Sadly we are not told exactly the nature of this medieval light box.
The book ends with the invention of the printing press by Johannes Gutenberg in Mainz around the year 1450, which spelt the end of the scriptorium. Charles talks of the community of lay scribes and craftsmen in Oxford, and in Paris. What surprises me is that she makes no mention of the community in London. In 1403 the scribes and limners, parchment sellers and binders based just to the north of St Paul’s Cathedral, formed themselves into a misterie or guild. When William Caxton’s successor, Wynkyn de Worde, moved his printing press from the precinct of Westminster Abbey to Fleet Street, printers linked up with the craftsmen, joining their misterie, becoming the Company of Stationers and establishing St Paul’s Churchyard as the centre of the English book trade. This, surely, should have been brought into the account.
Nevertheless this is a rich evocation of the making of books in the Middle Ages, full of fascinating details. And, of course, it is illustrated with some of the glories of the time, and prompts me to go and search for further images, such as the books that were made in the shapes of hearts, circles and, for the French king, a fleur de lys.
