Medieval Manuscripts in the Digital Age

Matteo da Milano (active 1492-1523) - Getty

The sturdy vellum pages of pre- and early- modern manuscripts will likely prove capable of outliving our current digital processing systems, which have already been reinvented several times in the span of the last three decades. Crafted with extraordinary skill and care, these old manuscripts have for centuries preserved images and texts essential to understanding our artistic and cultural heritage legacy. The materials used in their creation has allowed them to weather the passage of a significant amount of time without falling apart.

I remember going to the Special Collections library and, for my first time, touching a book from the 17th-century. I gingerly approached the cradle in which it rested, trying not to even breathe on it, for fear that I'd somehow ruin it. A professor who had arranged the trip to the library leaned in and said something to the effect of: "Go ahead, turn the page. These things are quite durable. Vellum: undoubtedly a superior technology." 

It's true, of course, that vellum and rag-paper used in the early modern period remains a far stronger material than the thin sheets of paper on which books are now printed. These manuscripts were also hand-sown, hand-bound into leather, and sometimes even hand-painted with incredible miniatures. 

Although the bookmaking methods of the early modern period may have resulted in more resilient book objects, the digital age has been making those texts more and more readily available for study and enjoyment. As an increasing number of medieval manuscripts are digitized and sent into the world via the Internet, the more opportunity there is for discovery. 

Discovery of these digitized manuscripts is significantly helped along by museum websites and blogs dedicated to the subject. For example, if you're not following Sexy Codicology, you're missing out. Their blog highlights at least one manuscript a week, exploring it with high resolution images of the text and its miniatures. They also have a sister project, the Digitized Medieval Manuscripts Maps (DMMmaps) project, which allows viewers to interact with maps and texts as well as contribute data, via their crowd-source format. 

Court workshop of Ludwig I of Lignite - Getty 

Recently, over at the DMMmaps blog, they did a piece on the Getty collection of digitized manuscripts. It is a treat for the eyes, complete with images and video of some of the many incredible book objects the Getty has in its collection. 

I am thrilled that modern technology allows for such an incredible level of accessibility to these manuscripts, but at the same time I resent looking at them on the computer (not least because it means universities are more apt to withhold travel funding now that texts magically appear on the Internet for free). Seeing these old books in person - smelling them, seeing their enormous physical weight, touching the binding where the hands of a 16th-century bookbinder sewed together the folios - its all part of the way the book is read. 

Unknown illuminator - "The Lamb Defeating the Ten Kings" (c. 1220-35) - Getty 

I am grateful to have a world of images at my fingertips through my computer, but I am also increasingly aware that reading a book is more than making sense of the words and images on the page... it is reading what went into making the page, binding the pages together, where the ink came from and how it flowed out into words, how hundreds of brush strokes and gold leaf made an image, hiding inside a letter "R" come to life. 

Recently, I watched a documentary on the making of museum-grade copies of one of the world's most treasured atlases, which hails from a slightly later time period than the texts pictured above. Nevertheless, I highly recommend taking a peek at this fascinating story, that tells of both the atlas' original creation and its modern re-creation in facsimile. 

There is an almost meditative quality about the slow and meticulous processes of producing a book you know will be able to last for a long time into the future. The original context in which the Atlas Blaeu Van der Hem was produced required hours upon hours of artists, working at their craft, traveling across oceans into completely unknown lands. I like that here, the folks reproducing the Atlas Blaeu go through a slow and meticulous process also, but in a completely modern way. They travel into the field of digital technology and emerge with a new/old book that has apparently married the last 600 years of bookmaking methods.

Unknown illuminator -
"Inhabited initial letter 'B'"
(c. 1153) - Getty 

This is one of those stories that gives me hope that the digital age is likely very compatible with the study and appreciation of medieval texts. Which is good news, because I've been drooling over the Getty images all weekend. 

***

What are your favorite old books? Have you ever had the chance to read from a book several hundred years old? 

Until next time - keep rustling!

Research Update: The Best Part

Reading in the Special Collections Library

I AM SO EXCITED RIGHT NOW! I just got home from spending several lovely hours in Boulder's Special Collections Library where I discovered 6 boxes full of the small Brazilian chapbooks I love. I am so glad I brought my camera because they allowed me to take photographs of the beautiful xilogravura artwork that adorn these chapbooks. (Apparently, their policy is changing soon, however, and in the future I will likely not be able to take my own photos of the books- so today I clicked away as much as I could!)

I am in the process of doing research for an article (and maybe a dissertation??) in which I will be writing about this literary art form. I think that working with the primary texts is the absolute best part of any research project; finding these books right in my own library was like finding fifty dollars in your pocket... no, it was like finding fifty dollars and a chocolate cake in your pocket.

Reading history and beginning to write your own thoughts is great, too, but there is something so completely satisfying about taking in the books you love-- smelling them, touching the cheap delicate paper they were printed on, beginning to read, for your first time, at the top of the very first page.

From A intriga do Cachorro com Gato ("The Thriller of Dog and Cat") by José Pacheco. Art by José Francisco Borges. 

Three hours just flew by in the library as I read from these little poetry pamphlets-- the one pictured above was about a man who made his living as a repentista, or improvisational singer, who began an improv singing battle with a strange man... who turned out to be the devil! Each pamphlet had a new, rhymed story to explore... I read so many of them that my very thoughts became rhymed and rhythmic!

From Peleja de Riachão com o Diabo ("The Musical Duel of Riachão and the Devil") by Leando Gomes de Barros

From Milton e Cléa ("Milton and Cléa") by Luis da Costa Pinheiro. Art by Erivaldo.

From Os amores de Chiquinha e as Bravuras de Apolinário ("Chiquinha's Love Life and Apolinário's Brave Life)

Many of these chapbooks are first edition, published by Academia Brasileira de Literatura de Cordel (ABLC) and the others are re-released versions of classic cordel literature, reprinted by this same organization. In fact, the 6 boxes of books that the Special Collecitons Library had are available through their website here. The boxes of books are grouped by topic (such as bandits, humor, science and politics, etc.) and they each contain a collection of 10-20 chapbooks. Their website says they are 30 reais per box, which comes to about $15 US. (By the way, I ACCEPT CHRISTMAS PRESENTS EARLY.)

From Chico Xavier, o Maior Médium do Mundo Morre nos Braços do Povo ("Chico Xavier, the World's Greatest Spiritual Medium, Dies in the Arms of the People") by Gonçalo Ferreira da Silva. Art by J. Victtor. 

From A Peleja de Boa Voz com o Cantador Misterioso ("The Musical Duel of Boa Voz and the Mysterious Singer") by Victor Alvim Itahim Garcia. Art by Erivaldo.

From A Pérola Sagrada ("The Sacred Pearl") by João Martins de Athayde

I am so happy that the ABLC exists. Not only do they publish new cordel literature, they also make these collections available, publish scholarly books on cordel, publish anthologies of hundreds of cordel poems, and they update their site regularly with videos of musical recitations of cordel that take place in their cordel bookstore. (I must, must, MUST go there.)

I am not aware of any other organizations who attempt to preserve and promote this art form to the same extent; they are ensuring that literatura de cordel will not slowly fade away into obscurity, a lost cultural bit of heritage. Rather, they are inviting young people to be a part of learning cordel's history and participating actively in its future...

From Zé Baiano, Ferredor de Gente ("Zé Baiano, the Stabber") by Gonçalo Ferreira da Silva. Art by Erivaldo.

From Lambada no Inferno ("Lambada in Hell") by Gonçalo Ferreira da Silva. Art by Erivaldo.

Definitely check out the ABLC website to peruse their projects and resources.

Oh, and by the way, the "Research Update" is going to become yet another new feature here on the blog. You can expect them to get more frequent the deeper I go into the library and my various projects.

<All the translations in this post are my own.>
<The two smaller pictures are, from right to left, as follows: 1) From Jararaca, o Cancaçeiro Militar ("Jararaca, the Military Bandit") by Gonçalo Ferreira da Silva; art by Erivaldo. 2) From A Mulher que deu Tabaco na Presença do Marido ("The Woman who Smoked Weed in Front of her Husband") by Gonçalo Ferreira da Silva.

***
Until next time, fair petticoat rustlers-- keep rustling!