The substances upon which literature has been embodied and by means of which has been preserved and disseminated are matters of far more importance than would be supposed at a superficial reflection. They call for a larger consideration than the modern state and stage of the book-making industry might seem to warrant. Now, if a book is worn out, accidentally destroyed, or "borrowed" by some "good book-keeper" and not returned, it is usually an easy and simple matter to secure another. Not so, previous to the invention of printing. For then, the cost and time required to make a book "by hand" gave to each single copy a distinct individuality and also a correspondingly increased importance.

The two chief desiderata of a manuscript book—of a written production which was intended to give currency to a writer's thoughts and at the same time to serve as a more or less permanent depository of them—are legibility and durability. He who writes for the publicity of his ideas will not write on stone nor on clay; and he who writes for the preservation of his ideas will not write on ice or dust. And he who writes that his thoughts may be read and understood will not write with a scrawl nor in an illegible "hand."

The foregoing observations prompt to the suggestion that not only the materials upon which a literary production is impressed or imprinted must be capable of easy conveyance or circulation but also that the writing itself must be legible, and that the materials employed must be proof to the utmost attainable extent against the obliterations of use and time. Necessarily, therefore, an achievement so laborious as the transcription of a written volume of whatever form (and especially of the Bible by reason of its size, character, and importance) called for a correspondingly larger concern and care as to the materials employed (including both the ink and the substance written upon) than would be required in the making of a printed book wherein each separate volume but duplicates hundreds and thousands of other volumes made from the same plates. This requirement partly explains the care with which the ancient manuscripts were made or copied. It was this fact that made every copyist's work distinctively individualistic.

The permanency and durability of books is largely a matter of relativity and fortuity. We quote from Mr. E.C. Richardson concerning the factors affecting the survival of books: "The average chance of an individual book for long life depends (1) on the intrinsic durability of its material, or its ability to resist hostile environment, (2) on isolation." He says, further: "The enemies to which books are exposed are various: wind, fire, moisture, mold, human negligence, vandalism, and human use. Some materials are naturally more durable than others. Stone and metal inscriptions survive better than wood or clay, vellum than papyrus or paper. On the other hand, however, if isolated or protected from hostile environment, very fragile material may outlast more substantial. Papyrus has survived in the mounds of Egypt, and unbaked clay tablets in the mounds of Babylonia, while millions of stone and metal inscriptions written thousands of years later have already perished. Here the factor of isolation comes in. Fire and pillage, moth and rust, and the bookworm destroy for the most part without respect of persons.... An unbaked tablet which has survived 5,000 years under rubbish may crumble to dust in five years after it has been dug up and exposed to air. The general law is that value tends to preserve, and it has been remarked that all the oldest codices which have survived in free environment are sumptuous copies. Literary value on the other hand is, on the whole, a factor of destruction for the individual rather than for survival. The better a book is the more it is read, and the more it is read, the faster it wears out. The worthless book on the top shelf outlasts all the rest."18 There is a department connected with some of the libraries of this or other countries devoted to the specific mission of repairing dilapidated or time-worn manuscripts or documents which, for one reason or another, it is desirable to preserve. The following is reported to be the method followed at the Wisconsin Historical Library: The first thing done is to place the document between wet newspapers under weight and leave them for several hours. This removes the creases and the dirt. They are then put between wood pulp boards and left for a day and then between blotters to complete the drying process. The next step is to repair the paper. The paper in some of these documents is so old and fragile that rough handling will destroy. Therefore it is strengthened by a sort of transparent cloth on both sides of the paper. With some, letters need to be mended along the edges with parchment paper. To cover holes a piece of paper is glued over the edges and is left larger than the holes until dry. It is then cut down to the proper size, and the edges sandpapered until it is smooth. It is then ready for mounting or filing for a continued lease of existence.

The world is greatly indebted to the early Jewish teachers for the survival of ancient written documents. The ancient Jew brought a religious devotion to the production of his sacred books—a devotion bordering on veneration, as is shown conclusively by the "rules" which governed him in their transcription. These are indicated in the following "directions" to copyists, quoted from an old volume: "A book of the law wanting but one letter, with one letter too much, or, with an error in one single letter; written with anything but ink; or made from the skin of an unclean animal; or on parchment not purposely prepared for that use, or prepared by any but an Israelite; or on parchment tied together by 'unclean' strings, shall be holden to be corrupt. It was the rule that no word should be written without a line first drawn on the parchment; no word to be written 'by heart,' or without having been first orally pronounced by the writer; that no letter should be joined to another letter; and that, if the blank space cannot be seen all round each letter, the roll shall be 'corrupt.' There were settled rules as to the space to be left between each letter, and word, and section."19 In addition to these rules we learn from another and authentic source that there were special regulations for the margins, and for the number of lines to the page, or to the column of the roll; that the sheet of the book must be sewed together with threads made of the dried tendons of clean beasts; that every sheet of the roll must be sewed to the next—that even one loose sheet makes a roll "unfit";—and that care must be taken that the needle does not pierce the letters. It is a requirement that when a scribe has begun to write the name of God he must not be interrupted till he has finished it; that a writing, when set aside to dry, should be covered with a cloth to protect it from dust; and that to turn a writing downward is shameful. It was the emphatic injunction that scrupulous care must be taken in writing the Names of God: before writing every name of the Deity, the scribe must say, "I intend to write the Holy Name"; otherwise the roll would be unfit.20

Scarcely less of concern was displayed by the early Christians in copying their sacred books and even the classic literature. In certain periods of the Middle Ages the value and sanctity attributed to the transcription of a book is set forth in the fact that in many abbeys every 'novice' "was expected to bring on the day of his profession as a 'religious' a volume of considerable size which he had carefully copied by his own hands," somewhat as a "thesis" is a requirement for graduation by some modern institutions of learning.

This deep concern which a copyist felt for his work—for he had a solicitude that his copy might endure both time and use and long remain as a monument to himself—lent an artistic taste and, often, a religious devotion to the creditable transcription of a book, especially to the copying of the Bible or a part of the Bible. This devotion and concern (often witnessed unto in annotations in the margin or at the close of the transcribed portion of the Bible) made a copyist scrupulously honest and painstaking in his task, and was often disclosed in beautiful ornamentation and artistic embellishments. As a "royal" example, the Codex Rossanensis, a manuscript containing the gospels of Matthew and Mark, made, possibly, in the sixth century, though discovered in Calabria only in 1879, is written in silver characters on purple-colored vellum and has twelve miniatures of great interest in the history of Byzantine art. Another manuscript of the gospels (Codex "N"), the leaves of which are scattered in London, Rome, Vienna, Petrograd, and its native home (Patmos), is also written on purple-dyed vellum in silver and gold. There are fragmentary remains of a sumptuous volume of the Eusebian Canons which are written on gilt vellum and beautifully ornamented. In Trinity college, Dublin, there is a famous volume—the Book of Kells. This is conceded to be in some respects the finest ancient manuscript in Europe, having no equal as a specimen of Irish illumination and writing. It is a copy of the Gospels, written, it is believed, about the sixth century and was the possession of the Church of Kells until it came into the custody of Trinity college in 1661. A space of this book measuring three-quarters of an inch by one-half an inch, examined under a powerful microscope, was found to contain no fewer than one hundred and fifty-eight interlacements of a slender ribbon pattern formed with white lines edged by black. Professor George F. Wright refers to a remarkable Spanish manuscript for which the late Mr. J.P. Morgan paid the sum of $30,000 in 1910. It is an Old Latin manuscript of the New Testament, the work of a Spanish Presbyter named Beatus, and by whose name the codex is known, written in the latter part of the eighth century. What attracted Mr. Morgan was the size and beauty of the work. It was a large folio containing 184 leaves of thick vellum, each leaf measuring 21 by 14 inches; its binding was elaborate; and it contained 110 richly colored miniatures.21

Various factors—religious, artistic, and commercial—contributed to this movement toward embellishment. The growing wealth, at times, and the higher standards of civilization at certain stages of the Middle Ages created new demands for illuminated and embellished manuscripts. There were manuscripts with representations in water-colors in the lower margin; little pictures were inserted into the text of books; and initial letters of books or of their chapters not only reflected the writer's artistic accomplishments but also served as expository teaching upon the text itself. Of early achievements in this direction, Professor DobschÜtz tells us that there were examples of sumptuous books of finest parchment in which the text was not only written in gold and silver letters but with margins covered with beautiful paintings, as in the "Beatus" manuscript, and cites as a conspicuous example, "A copy of Genesis in Greek at the Vienna library has forty-eight water-colors, one at the bottom of each page, telling the same story as the text.... And this manuscript does not stand alone; it is but one of a large group of illuminated manuscripts. This sumptuous appearance may be taken as a sign of the value attached to the Bible. Persecuted hitherto, it became the ruler of the Christian empire, invested with all the glory of royalty."22 It has been said concerning manuscript books that "the missals and office books, and the prayer books made for royal personages at this time" (during the thirteenth century) "are yet counted among the best examples of book-making the world has ever seen." Of a rare and very valuable collection of books and manuscripts assembled by the late Mr. J.P. Morgan under the discriminating and painstaking direction of a Columbia University professor, a writer in a New York daily says: "Massive jeweled manuscript covers, a thousand and more years old, are there, and marvelous hand-illuminated manuscripts, their gorgeous colorings and exquisite workmanship, the result of years of toil by ancient monks and mediÆval artists. Many of them were once the dearest pride and delight of kings and emperors and popes. Only potentates such as these could command the services of the men who produced most of the collection."