SECULAR makers of books have plied their trade in Europe since classic times, but during the early age of monachism their numbers were very small and they must have come nigh extinction altogether. In and after the eleventh century they increased in numbers and importance; their ranks being recruited not only by seculars trained in the monastic schools, but by monks who for various reasons had been ejected from their order. These traders were divided into several classes: parchment-makers, scribes, rubrishers or illuminators, bookbinders, and stationers or booksellers. The stationer usually controlled the operations of the other craftsmen; he was the middleman. Scribes were either ordinary scriveners called librarii, or writers who drew up legal documents, known as notarii. But the librarius and notarius often trenched upon each other’s work, and consequently a good deal of ill-feeling usually existed between them.

Bookbinders, and booksellers or stationarii, probably first plied their trade most prosperously in England at Oxford and Cambridge. By about 1180 quite a number of such tradesmen were living in Oxford; a single document transferring property in Cat Street bears the names of three illuminators, a bookbinder, a scribe, and two parchmenters.[489] Half a century later a bookbinder is mentioned in a deed as a former owner of property in the parish of St. Peter’s in the East; another bookbinder is witness to the deed (c. 1232-40).[490] After this bookbinders and others of the craft are frequently mentioned. Towards the end of the thirteenth century Schydyerd Street and Cat Street, the centre of University life, were the homes of many people engaged in bookmaking and selling; the former street especially was frequented by parchment makers and sellers. In this street, too, “a tenement called Bokbynder’s is mentioned in a charter of 1363-4; and although bookbinding may not have been carried on there at that date, the fact of the name having been attached to the place seems sufficient to justify the assumption that a binder or guild of binders had formerly been established there. In Cat Street a Tenementum Bokbyndere, owned by Osney Abbey, was rented in 1402 by Henry the lymner, at a somewhat later date by Richard the parchment-seller, and in 1453 by All Souls’ College.”[491]

Stationers had transcripts made, bought, sold and hired out books and received them in pawn. They acted as agents when books and other goods were sold; in 1389, for example, a stationer received twenty pence for his services in buying two books, one costing £4 and the other five marks.[492] They attended the fair at St. Giles near Oxford to sell books. This was not their only interest, for they dealt in goods of many kinds. They were in fact general tradesmen: sellers, valuers, and agents; liable to be called upon to have a book copied, to buy or sell a book, to set a value upon a pledge, to make an inventory and valuation of a scholar’s goods and chattels after his death. Their office was such an important one for the well-being of the scholars that it was found convenient to extend to them the privileges and protection of the University, and in return to exact an oath of fairdealing from them.[493]

Before the end of the thirteenth century the University’s privileges had been extended to servientes known as parchment-makers, scribes, and illuminators; in 1290 the privileges were confirmed.[494] Certain stationers were then undoubtedly within the University as servientes, but in 1356 they are recorded positively as being so with parchmenters, illuminators, and writers: and again in 1459 “alle stacioners” and “alle bokebynders” enjoyed the privileges of the University, with “lympners, wryters, and pergemeners.”[495] These privileges took them out of the jurisdiction of the city, although they still had to pay taxes, which were collected by the University and paid over to the city treasurer.

Stationers regarded as the University’s servants were sworn, as we have already indicated. The document giving the form of their oath is undated, but most likely the rules laid down were observed from the time the stationers were first attached to the University. The oath was strict. A part of their duties was the valuation of books and other articles which were pledged by scholars in return for money from the University chests. These chests or hutches were expressly founded by wealthy men for the assistance of poor scholars. By the end of the fifteenth century there were at Oxford twenty-four such chests, valued at two thousand marks; a large pawnbroking fund, but probably by no means too large.[496] Mr. Anstey, the editor of Munimenta Academica, has drawn a vivid picture of the inspection of one of these chests and of the business conducted round them, and we cannot do better than reproduce it. Master T. Parys, principal of St. Mary Hall, and Master Lowson are visiting the chest of W. de Seltone. We enter St. Mary’s Church with them, “and there we see ranged on either side several ponderous iron chests, eight or ten feet in length and about half that width, for they have to contain perhaps as many as a hundred or more large volumes, besides other valuables deposited as pledges by those who have borrowed from the chest. Each draws from beneath his cape a huge key, which one after the other are applied to the two locks; a system of bolts, which radiate from the centre of the lid and shoot into the iron sides in a dozen different places, slide back, and the lid is opened. At the top lies the register of the contents, containing the particulars;—dates, names, and amounts—of the loans granted. This they remove and begin to compare its statements with the contents of the chest. There are a large number of manuscript volumes, many of great value, beautifully illuminated and carefully kept, for each is almost the sole valuable possession perhaps of its owner! Then the money remaining in one corner of the chest is carefully counted and compared with the account in the register. If we look in we can see also here and there among the books other valuables of less peaceful character. There lie two or three daggers of more than ordinary workmanship, and by them a silver cup or two, and again more than one hood lined with minever. By this time a number of persons has collected around the chest, and the business begins. That man in an ordinary civilian’s dress who stands beside Master Parys is John More, the University stationer, and it is his office to fix the value of the pledges offered, and to take care that none are sold at less than their real value. It is a motley group that stands around; there are several

masters and bachelors, ... but the larger proportion is of boys or quite young men in every variety of coloured dress, blue and red, medley, and the like, but without any academical dress. Many of them are very scantily clothed, and all have their attention rivetted on the chest, each with curious eye watching for his pledge, his book or his cup, brought from some country village, perhaps an old treasure of his family, and now pledged in his extremity, for last term he could not pay the principal of his hall the rent of his miserable garret, nor the manciple for his battels, but now he is in funds again, and pulls from his leathern money-pouch at his girdle the coin which is to repossess him of his property.”[497] Naturally their duty as valuers of much-prized property invested the stationers with some importance. Their work was thought to be so laborious and anxious that about 1400 every new graduate was expected to give clothes to one of them; such method of rewarding services with livery or clothing being common in the middle ages.[498] The form of their oath was especially designed to make them protect the chests from loss. All monies received by them for the sale of pledges were to be paid into the chests within eight days. The sale of a pledge was not to be deferred longer than three weeks. Without special leave they could not themselves buy the pledges, directly or indirectly: a wholesome and no doubt very necessary provision. Pledges were not to be lent for more than ten days. All pledges were to be honestly appraised. When a pledge was sold, the buyer’s name was to be written in the stationer’s indenture. No stationer could refuse to sell a pledge; nor could he take it away from Oxford and sell it elsewhere. He was bound to mark all books exposed for sale, as pledges, in the usual way, by quoting the beginning of the second folio. All persons lending books, whether stationers or other people, were bound to lend perfect copies. This oath was sworn afresh every year.[499]

Many stationers were not sworn. They speedily became serious competitors with the privileged traders. By 1373 their number had increased largely, and restrictions were imposed upon them. Books of great value were sold through their agency, and carried away from Oxford. Owners were cheated. All unsworn booksellers living within the jurisdiction of the University were forbidden, therefore, to sell any book, either their own property, or belonging to others, exceeding half a mark in value. If disobedient they were liable to suffer pain of imprisonment for the first offence, a fine of half a mark for the second—a curious example of graduated punishment—and a prohibition to ply their trade within the precincts of the University for the third.[500]

At this time bookselling was a thriving trade. De Bury tells us: “We secured the acquaintance of stationers and scribes, not only within our own country, but of those spread over the realms of France, Germany and Italy, money flying forth in abundance to anticipate their demands: nor were they hindered by any distance, or by the fury of the seas, or by the lack of means for their expenses, from sending or bringing to us the books that we required.”[501]

Records of various transactions are extant, of which the following may serve as examples. In 1445, a stationer and a lymner in his employ had a dispute, and as the two arbiters to whom the matter was referred failed to reach a settlement in due time, the Chancellor of the University stepped in and determined the quarrel. The judgment was as follows: the lymner, or illuminator, was to serve the stationer, in liminando bene et fideliter libros suos, for one year, and meantime was to work for nobody else. His wage was to be four marks ten shillings of good English money. The lymner in person was to fetch the materials from his master’s house, and to bring back the work when finished. He was to take care not to use the colours wastefully. The work was to be done well and faithfully, without fraud or deception. For the purpose of superintending the work the stationer could visit the place where the lymner wrought, at any convenient time.[502] The yearly wage for this lymner was nearly fifty pounds of our money.

An inscription in one codex tells us it was pawned to a bookseller in 1480 for thirty-eight shillings. Pawnbroking was an important part of a bookseller’s business. Lending books on hire was usual among both booksellers and tutors, for it was the exception, rather than the rule, for university students to own books, while in the college libraries there were sometimes not enough books to go round. For example, the statutes of St. Mary’s College, founded in 1446, forbade a scholar to occupy a book in the library above an hour, or at most two hours, so that others should not be hindered from the use of them.[503]

At Cambridge the trade was not less flourishing. From time to time it was found necessary to determine whether the booksellers and the allied craftsmen were within the University’s jurisdiction or not. In 1276 it was desired to settle their position as between the regents and scholars of the University and the Archdeacon of Ely. Hugh de Balsham, Bishop of Ely, when called in as arbiter, decided that writers, illuminators, and stationers, who exercise offices peculiarly for the behoof of the scholars, were answerable to the Chancellor; but their wives to the Archdeacon. Nearly a century later, in 1353-54, we find Edward III issuing a writ commanding justices of the peace of the county of Cambridge to allow the Chancellor of the University the conusance and punishment of all trespasses and excesses, except mayheim and felony, committed by stationers, writers, bookbinders, and illuminators, as had been the custom. But the question was again in debate in 1393-94, when the Chancellor and scholars petitioned Parliament to declare and adjudge stationers and bookbinders scholars’ servants, as had been done in the case of Oxford. This petition does not seem to have been answered. But by the Barnwell Process of 1430, it was decided that “transcribers, illuminators, bookbinders, and stationers have been, and are wont and ought to be—as well by ancient usage from time immemorial undisturbedly exercised, as by concession of the Apostolic See—the persons belong and are subject to the ecclesiastical and spiritual jurisdiction of the Chancellor of the University for the time being.” Again in 1503 was it agreed, this time between the University and the Mayor and burgesses of Cambridge, that “stacioners, lymners, schryveners, parchment-makers, boke-bynders,” were common ministers and servants of the University and were to enjoy its privileges.[504]

Fairs were so important a means of bringing together buyers and sellers that we should expect books to be sold at them. And in fact they were. The preamble of an Act of Parliament reads as follows: “Ther be meny feyers for the comen welle of your seid lege people as at Salusbury, Brystowe, Oxenforth, Cambrigge, Notyngham, Ely, Coventre, and at many other places, where lordes spirituall and temporall, abbotes, Prioures, Knyghtes, Squerys, Gentilmen, and your seid Comens of every Countrey, hath their comen resorte to by and purvey many thinges that be gode and profytable, as ornaments of holy church chaleis, bokes, vestmentes [etc.] ... also for howsold, as vytell for the tyme of Lent, and other Stuff, as Lynen Cloth, wolen Cloth, brasse, pewter, beddyng, osmonde, Iren, Flax and Wax and many other necessary thinges.”[505] The chief fairs for the sale of books were those of St. Giles at Oxford, at Stourbridge, Cambridge, and St. Bartholomew’s Fair in London.

London, however, speedily asserted its right to be regarded as England’s publishing centre. The booksellers with illuminators and other allied craftsmen established themselves in a small colony in “Paternoster Rewe,” and they attended St. Bartholomew’s Fair to sell books. By 1403 the Stationers’ Company, which had long been in existence, was chartered; its headquarters were in London, at a hall in Milk Street. This guild did not confine its attention to the book-trade; nor did the booksellers sell only books. Often, indeed, this was but a small part of general mercantile operations. For example, William Praat, a London mercer, obtained manuscripts for Caxton. Grocers also sold manuscripts, parchment, paper and ink. King John of France, while a prisoner in England in 1360, bought from three grocers of Lincoln four “quaires” of paper, a main of paper and a skin of parchment, and three “quaires” of paper. From a scribe of Lincoln named John he also bought books, some of which are now in the BibliothÈque Nationale, Paris.[506]

We have a record of an interesting transaction which took place at the end of the manuscript period (1469). One William Ebesham wrote to his most worshipful and special master, Sir John Paston, asking, in a hesitating, cringing sort of way, for the payment of his little bill, which seems to have been a good deal overdue, as is the way with bills. All this service most lowly he recommends unto his good mastership, beseeching him most tenderly to see the writer somewhat rewarded for his labour in the “Grete Boke” which he wrote unto his said good mastership. And he winds up his letter with a request for alms in the shape of one of Sir John’s own gowns; and beseeches God to preserve his patron from all adversity, with which the writer declares himself to be somewhat acquainted. He heads his bill: Following appeareth, parcelly, divers and sundry manner of writings, which I William Ebesham have written for my good and worshipful master, Sir John Paston, and what money I have received, and what is unpaid. For writing a “litill booke of Pheesyk” he was paid twenty pence. Other writing he did for twopence a leaf. Hoccleve’s de Regimine Principum he wrote for one penny a leaf, “which is right wele worth.” Evidently Ebesham did not find scrivening a too profitable occupation.[507]