These illuminations, which render the early manuscripts of the monkish ages so attractive, generally exemplify the rude ideas and tastes of the time. In perspective they are wofully deficient, and manifest but little idea of the picturesque or sublime; but here and there we find quite a gem of art, and, it must be owned, we are seldom tired by monotony of coloring, or paucity of invention. A study of these parchment illustrations afford considerable instruction. Not only do they indicate the state of the pictorial art in the middle ages, but also give us a comprehensive insight into the scriptural ideas entertained in those times; and the bible student may learn much from pondering on these glittering pages; to the historical student, and to the lover of antiquities, they offer a verdant field of research, and he may obtain in this way many a glimpse of the manners and customs of those old times which the pages of the monkish chroniclers have failed to record.
But all this prodigal decoration greatly enhanced the price of books, and enabled them to produce a sum, which now to us sounds enormously extravagant. Moreover, it is supposed that the scarcity of parchment limited the number of books materially, and prevented their increase to any extent; but I am prone to doubt this assertion, for my own observations do not help to prove it. Mr. Hallam says, that in consequence of this, "an unfortunate practice gained ground of erasing a manuscript in order to substitute another on the same skin. This occasioned, probably, the loss of many ancient authors who have made way for the legends of saints, or other ecclesiastical rubbish."[80] But we may reasonably question this opinion, when we consider the value of books in the middle ages, and with what esteem the monks regarded, in spite of all their paganism, those "heathen dogs" of the ancient world. A doubt has often forced itself upon my mind when turning over the "crackling leaves" of many ancient MSS., whether the peculiarity mentioned by Montfaucon, and described as parchment from which former writing had been erased, may not be owing, in many cases, to its mode of preparation. It is true, a great proportion of the membrane on which the writings of the middle ages are inscribed, appear rough and uneven, but I could not detect, through many manuscripts of a hundred folios—all of which evinced this roughness—the unobliterated remains of a single letter. And when I have met with instances, they appear to have been short writings—perhaps epistles; for the monks were great correspondents, and, I suspect, kept economy in view, and often carried on an epistolary intercourse, for a considerable time, with a very limited amount of parchment, by erasing the letter to make room for the answer. This, probably, was usual where the matter of their correspondence was of no especial importance; so that, what our modern critics, being emboldened by these faint traces of former writing, have declared to possess the classic appearance of hoary antiquity, may be nothing more than a complimentary note, or the worthless accounts of some monastic expenditure. But, careful as they were, what would these monks have thought of "paper-sparing Pope," who wrote his Iliad on small pieces of refuse paper? One of the finest passages in that translation, which describes the parting of Hector and Andromache, is written on part of a letter which Addison had franked, and is now preserved in the British Museum. Surely he could afford, these old monks would have said, to expend some few shillings for paper, on which to inscribe that for which he was to receive his thousand pounds.
But far from the monastic manuscripts displaying a scantiness of parchment, we almost invariably find an abundant margin, and a space between each line almost amounting to prodigality; and to say that the "vellum was considered more precious than the genius of the author,"[81] is absurd, when we know that, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a dozen skins of parchment could be bought for sixpence; whilst that quantity written upon, if the subject possessed any interest at all, would fetch considerably more, there always being a demand and ready sale for books.[82] The supposition, therefore, that the monastic scribes erased classical manuscripts for the sake of the material, seems altogether improbable, and certainly destitute of proof. It is true, many of the classics, as we have them now, are but mere fragments of the original work. For this, however, we have not to blame the monks, but barbarous invaders, ravaging flames, and the petty animosities of civil and religious warfare for the loss of many valuable works of the classics. By these means, one hundred and five books of Livy have been lost to us, probably forever. For the thirty which have been preserved, our thanks are certainly due to the monks. It was from their unpretending and long-forgotten libraries that many such treasures were brought forth at the revival of learning, in the fifteenth century, to receive the admiration of the curious, and the study of the erudite scholar. In this way Poggio Bracciolini discovered many inestimable manuscripts. Leonardo Aretino writes in rapturous terms on Poggio's discovery of a perfect copy of Quintillian. "What a precious acquisition!" he exclaims, "what unthought of pleasure to behold Quintillian perfect and entire!"[83] In the same letter we learn that Poggio had discovered Asconius and Flaccus in the monastery of St. Gall, whose inhabitants regarded them without much esteem. In the monastery of Langres, his researches were rewarded by a copy of Cicero's Oration for Cæcina. With the assistance of Bartolomeo di Montepulciano, he discovered Silius Italicus, Lactantius, Vegetius, Nonius Marcellus, Ammianus Marcellus, Lucretius, and Columella, and he found in a monastery at Rome a complete copy of Turtullian.[84] In the fine old monastery of Casino, so renowned for its classical library in former days, he met with Julius Frontinus and Firmicus, and transcribed them with his own hand. At Cologne he obtained a copy of Petronius Arbiter. But to these we may add Calpurnius's Bucolic,[85] Manilius, Lucius Septimus, Coper, Eutychius, and Probus. He had anxious hopes of adding a perfect Livy to the list, which he had been told then existed in a Cistercian Monastery in Hungary, but, unfortunately, he did not prosecute his researches in this instance with his usual energy. The scholar has equally to regret the loss of a perfect Tacitus, which Poggio had expectations of from the hands of a German monk. We may still more deplore this, as there is every probability that the monks actually possessed the precious volume.[86] Nicolas of Treves, a contemporary and friend of Poggio's, and who was infected, though in a slight degree, with the same passionate ardor for collecting ancient manuscripts, discovered, whilst exploring the German monasteries, twelve comedies of Plautus, and a fragment of Aulus Gellius.[87] Had it not been for the timely aid of these great men, many would have been irretrievably lost in the many revolutions and contentions that followed; and, had such been the case, the monks, of course, would have received the odium, and on their heads the spleen of the disappointed student would have been prodigally showered.
FOOTNOTES:
[40] Martene Thesaurus novus Anecdot. tom. iv. col. 1462.
[41] See Du Cange in Voc., vol. vi. p. 264.
[42] Anglia Sacra, ii. 635. Fosbrooke Brit. Monach., p. 15.
[43] Martene Thes. Nov. Anec. tom. iv. col. 1462. Stat. Ord. Cistere, anni 1278, they were allowed for "Studendum vel recreandum."
[44] Hildesh. episc apud Leibuit., tom. i. Script. Brunsvic, p. 444. I am indebted to Du Cange for this reference.
[45] King's Munimenta Antiqua. Stevenson's Suppl. to Bentham, p. 64.