A Manuscript-Enhanced Index in a Seventeenth-Century Book of Legal Reports

As I mentioned in my post two weeks ago (on the Center's annotated copy of the English-Latin language aid Janua linguarum), we own several books with manuscript enhanced indices and word lists. Today's post showcases a seventeenth-century English law book and an early owner's annotations to its index. Although largely instrumental in purpose (i.e. adding indexical entries for topics of interest to the reader), these annotations allow for the partial reconstruction of a reading experience, in this case revealing overlooked aspects of the book (at least in terms of the index) the reader considered important.

(NB: here is a link to the Picasa Web album versions of these pics. The link puts you at the first in the series (of all the pics ever posted on this site). Picasa has stronger zoom functionality than the browser, and so is a better tool for viewing the marginalia.)

note the ownership inscription of "W. Coryton" in the top right-hand corner

Sir Richard Lane, Reports in the Court of Exchequer: beginning in the third, and ending in the ninth year of the raign of the late King James. London: Printed for W. Lee, D. Pakeman, and G. Bedell, 1657
[4], 199, [5] p. ; 30 cm. (fol.); Wing L340; contemporary sheep binding

The Middle Temple barrister Sir Richard Lane (bap. 1584, d. 1651) devoted much of his legal career to the Court of Exchequer, and it is those experiences that formed the basis for this posthumously published book of legal reports. According to D.A. Orr's ODNB article on Lane, the book "contain[s] an important report of Chief Baron Sir Thomas Fleming's opinion in Bate's case (1606)," as well as other important cases from the early seventeenth-century.

The Center's copy of Lane's Reports bears evidence of early ownership and use. While a few minor manuscript notes appear in the book's margins, the lion's share of its annotations come at the end of the book, in the "exact Table of Principall Matters contained in this Booke." A former owner—perhaps the "W. Coryton" who signed his name on the title page (not the politician who lived from 1580-1651)—added dozens of new manuscript entries to the index, reflecting various legal actions and concepts he encountered while reading. 

These are personal annotations, meant for the private use and reference of the owner; as such, they were written quickly in a free italic hand without an eye to appearance or presentation. In fact most manuscript annotation of printed books in this period was executed in such a manner, a situation that poses certain challenges to modern readers and scholars. If these pages were closely cropped, as is the case with scores of early printed books surviving today, the annotations may have been cut in half and rendered illegible. While the margins survive intact in this case (probably because the book hasn't been rebound since the mid-seventeenth century, the date of the sheepskin binding), the difficult hand nonetheless makes it tough to decipher this annotator's notes. 

It would take me too much time to transcribe all the notes in this book's index, but one example will suffice to demonstrate their typical style and content. (I am also no expert on law or the history of law, so I am focusing entirely on what this annotation reveals about reading and indexing processes.)

This note (taken from the bottom of the page shown above) reads:


"action personall dyes with the person. 93. 107." [italic letters expand scribal abbreviations]


By beginning his note with the word "action," our annotator imitates the type of index entries established in the printed "Table" (most of the entries in "A" are "actions"). He also uses several abbreviations in order to expedite the process of note-taking and fit his entries onto the small patch of available writing space. This note clearly references content on pages 93 and 107. Among other things, page 93 (end of a report on the case of "[Thomas] Wentworth and others against Stanley") reads "if the party die before the penalty inflicted, this shall not be inflicted at all," as well as "if any person shall dye, no seisure [of property] shall insue, or be continued." Page 107 (in a report of "Halseys case touching Recusancy") refers to a Jacobean statute that "giveth no penaltie without conviction, so that the death of the party before conviction dischargeth all." 

The owner's note, and indeed all of his notes, enhance the book and make it more useful, if not to a general reader than definitely for "W. Coryton," reflecting his specific tastes and legal interests. The index's remaining three pages  contain comparably extensive manuscript annotations, which I will not explicate further at this point.

 

I am not sure if any scholars have written much on annotated indices in early modern law books, but it seems these items could illuminate both the historical practice of law-book reading and the book history of early modern indexing.

An Early Owner Rewrites Waller

Last week's post highlighted early seventeenth-century bindings from the Center's collection, a post I plan to continue with a discussion of English bindings in the Restoration and early eighteenth century. But in order to conduct a bit of extra research into our later seventeenth-century English bindings, I am saving that post for next week. 

Today's post, on the other hand, focuses on the manuscript emendation of printed poetry in a late seventeenth-century verse anthology. Besides documenting a specific historical reader of Edmund Waller's poetry, the material signs of this book's "use" reveal an amusing and perceptive close reading of a politically charged epithalamium. 

title page

detail of title page

The temple of death: a poem...Horace of the art of poetry...The duel of the stags, by the Honourable Sir Robert Howard: together with several other excellent poems by the Earls of Rochester and Orrery, Sir Charles Sedley, Sir George Etheridge, the Honourable Mr. Montague, Mr. Granvill, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Chetwood, and Mr. Tate. [second edition]
London: Printed by Tho[mas] Warren for Francis Saunders, [1695]
[16], 268, [2], 269-273, [3] p.: 19 cm. (8vo); Wing T663

Renaissance Center copy is in contemporary calf (front cover wanting; title leaf detached and mutilated, removing lower outer corner and some text; lacks N3-4 and the blank leaves A1, E8, F1, S8); in phase box; p. 206 has catchword "ON"; early signature of Sarah Kingsman (several times on title page, and elsewhere in the volume); signature of Mary Anne Tillwood (1837) on verso of title leaf; signature of Gwynne Blakemore Evans (1931) on title page and his bookplate on verso of title leaf [JL]

Within this printed verse miscellany is gathered a range of authors and literary forms. It showcases the lyric poetry of the day's most popular writers (Waller, Etherege, Dryden, etc.) and a number of less well known aristocratic poets. The book also presents commendatory verse, works of poetic theory (Horace, Waller), and a translation from the French (Philippe Habert's "Le temple de la mort," trans. by John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham). 

An early owner named "Sarah Kingsman" has inscribed her name several times on the book's title page and elsewhere in the volume (as in its final page, shown below). The title page also bears the inscription of "Sally Idle," whereas a later owner's inscription (Mary Anne Tillwood-1837) appears on its verso. Kingsman's inscription within the capital "O" from "POEMS" is a particularly interesting specimen.

the notice at the bottom of the leaf advertises "all sorts of Gilt and Plain paper"

In the final poem of the volume (Edmund Waller's “On the Marriage of the Lady Mary with the Prince of Orange") one of these former owners (probably Tillwood, perhaps Idle or Kingsman) used her pen to strike out and insert a word in the author's text. 

Placed directly after Waller introduces the "triple knot" figure as representative of the pair's virtue, royal blood, and love, the original lines read

The Church shall be the happy place,
Where Streams which from the same Source run,
(Tho' divers Lands awhile they grace)
United there again make one.

Our early reader's version—rewritten in an amusingly satirical style—reads

The Bed shall be the happy place,
Where Streams which from the same Source run,
(Tho' divers Lands awhile they grace)
United there again make one.

Besides revealing her clever, slightly irreverent sense of humor, the change clearly reflects the reader's skepticism towards the Church as a space conducive to marital bliss.While I have not determined whether this emendation is the reader's own invention or a copy of similarly satirical changes to the poem found elsewhere, it may play off of greater topical vogues in contemporaneous satire. Mary II died in 1694 and William would rule until his death in 1702 (the pair came to power in the Glorious Revolution of 1689). It may well be that the manuscript alteration to Waller's poem reflects some satirical aspect of their reign or marriage (or both). But it is just as likely the reader is responding to the poem on a more localized level, exposing what she sees as sham rhetoric in a highly politicized (and idealized) discussion of marriage. By transforming the site of marriage from a sacred to a sexualized space with the stroke of a pen, this early annotator reveals how specific strategies of reading and writing  become manifest in the material elements of books, elements which (as this case illustrates) have a direct bearing on literary interpretation.

Doodling in a Copy of Guarini's "Il Pastor Fido"

frontispiece and title page

Battista Guarini, Il Pastor Fido=The Faithful Shepherd: a pastorall / written in Italian by Baptista Gvarini, a knight of Italie ; and now newly translated out of the originall. 

London : Printed by R. Raworth, M DC XLVII [1647].

[12], 223 p. : ill., port. ; 20 cm.

Translated by Richard Fanshawe.

Renaissance Center copy is in later (18th-century?; a signature dated 1660 is partially trimmed) calf (rebacked; inner hinges cracked; all before B2 and 2F2-4 detached; some worm damage to outer margins, which occurred before the current binding); extensive scribblings on several leaves at front and at back, including drawings and names, presumably of owners: John Penrose (title page; dated both 1647 and 1660); Bernard Penrose (2F4v; dated 1704; and on V3v and X4v, undated); Thomas Penrose (front free endpaper; and V1v, dated 1701; and 2F4v, dated 1708); Francis Penrose ((a)2v, undated; and as "Frank Penrose" on M2r, undated); Edward Penrose (F3r and 2F4v; undated); Margarett Penrose, James Lake, and Robert Olivier (all 2F4v, undated); John James Sampson (2E4v; undated). 

 

Although a number of my posts on early modern manuscript annotation characterize the practice as a serious affair, practiced by diligent scholars or readers deeply invested in their reading material, one can't ignore the frivolous act of doodling as one of the most common forms of book annotation. Children and bored students (both in the early modern and modern periods) frequently doodled in the blank leaves of their books, both as a form of writing practice ("pen trials") and no doubt to alleviate the boredom of tedious classroom lessons.

The subject of this post is the most copiously doodled book in our collection, a 1647 English translation of Guarini's Il Pastor Fido. The play is well known as one of the first tragicomedies ever written and its author's writings on the genre influenced a number of early seventeenth-century English playwrights. Beaumont and Fletcher's plays Philaster and The Faithful Shepherdess are both indebted to Guarini's experimentation with tragicomedy.

But this post isn't about tragicomedy, it's about doodling, copious doodling. This particular copy's title page and frontispiece (in addition to the blank recto of the frontispiece leaf) bear a complex layering of pen trials, drawings, tracings, signatures, and sums, stemming from the ownership of nine different people in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (many of them from the Penrose family).

 Let's begin with the frontispiece leaf:

recto of frontispiece leaf

Perhaps the most obvious items of note on this page are the amateurish drawings, one of which is clearly a tracing of the frontispiece on the other side of the leaf. Probably in imitation of the fairly decent tracing job, a second would-be artist (undoubtedly a child) has added a second rendition of Guarini's face, upon which a third illustrated figure leans. A number of pen trials and other forms of handwriting practice litter the page, including the strange, owl-like forms in the bottom left-hand corner, clearly intended to train writing students in the formation of specific pen strokes. The page also contains (in no particular order) sums, transcriptions of the book's title, an armorial drawing, the initials of Baptista Guarini, and a line from an unidentified text.

frontispiece

Of course the frontispiece itself supplied the image for the tracing, and in its margin another annotator has drawn a couple fairly accurate human heads.

detail of margin on frontispiece leaf: drawings of heads

The title page contains a number of different sorts of doodles, including many items seen on the reverse page (a transcription of the book's title and another armorial drawing, for instance). The amateur drawing also continues with several images of birds and wings, apparently drawn by the same person responsible for the human figure on the reverse side of the leaf. One of the title page annotators has copied "London" from the book's imprint, writing it in both English and Latin. Another has written a number of early capital "block" letters (several "B"s, and "E," and an "H").

title page

There are also plenty of signatures on the title page and elsewhere in the book, identifying a total of nine different owners or readers from various time periods. One of the most interesting ownership marks elects not to use the typical signature for self-identification, but instead the rebus, that strange admixture of words, letters, and images we usually associate with children's literature.

detail of ownership rebus

As part of the witty, playful, and sometimes secretive literary culture of the day, writers could adopt the rebus as a way not only to mask their identities, but also to playfully incorporate text and image into the presentation of their names. If you haven't already figured it out, this rebus reads "T [Pen] [Rose]," or Thomas Penrose, one of the many owners identified elsewhere in the book. The rebus incorporates the Tudor Rose into an interesting amalgam of local (the Penrose family) and national identity, and I suspect its form was passed down through the family for some time. The illustration of the pen drawing the rose, albeit clearly appropriate for someone named "Penrose," is also interesting in light of the many drawings and pen marks displayed in this book, since it depicts the very material processes responsible for the doodling. Along with my earlier post on children's annotation, this example clearly demonstrates a relationship between the book and reader based less on serious intellectual engagement than on casual and playful interaction with a material object.

16th and 17th Century English Book Ownership I

The Bible : translated according to the Ebrew and Greeke, and conferred with the best translations in diuers languages : with most profitable annotations upon all the hard places, and other things of great importance, as may appeare in the epistle to the reader : and also a most profitable concordance for the readie finding out of any thing in the same conteyned.
Imprinted at London : By Christopher Barker, printer to the Queenes most excellent Maiestie, 1586.
[2], 434, [4], 441-554 leaves; [164] p. ; 21 cm.
Signatures: 4⁰. [pi]² A-3H⁸ 3I² *⁴ 3K-3Y⁸ 3Z¹⁰; A-K⁸ L².

One of the Center's copies of the Geneva Bible contains ownership inscriptions from several centuries of different owners. The page shown above features one from a Nicholas Kent, written in 1689. Like many such inscriptions, the note asserts personal ownership of the item and even offers a reward (albeit a paltry one) if the book should be lost. The inscription is written in a mixed hand typical of the period.

Whoosoeuer herein doo Looke.
Nicholas Kent of West Ketford:
Oweth this Booke-1689

If I it Lose and you it finde
I pray be so good and kinde
as for to giue it me againe
and you shall haue neaither
more nor less but Just one
peny to put in purse

Considering the one penny reward, if Kent had ever lost this book (doesn't appear he did), I doubt anyone would have bothered returning it to him--unless of course the finder was amused by the owner's amateur poetry.

Larger Image

Josephus, Flavius, The famous and memorable vvorkes of Iosephus, a man of much honour and learning among the Ievves. Faithfully translated out of the Latin, and French, by Tho. Lodge, Doctor in Physicke

[London] Printed by Humfrey Lownes, for G. Bishop, S. Waterson, and Tho. Adams. 1609.

6 p.l., 811 (i.e. 815), [28] p. 33 cm.

Signatures: 2⁰; [par.]⁶ A-V⁶ 2A-2V⁶ 3A-3F⁶ 3G⁸ 3H-3V⁶ 4A-4H⁶ 4I-4L⁴.

STC 14810

One of the Center's several books formerly owned by early modern women, this copy of Josephus's historical works (Thomas Lodge's English translation of 1609) belonged to a Susan Burnette in the 17th, possibly the early 18th century. On the title page, a modern stamp adjacent to her signature reads: "This edition of this book is rare and has extraordinary features making it valuable." These "extraordinary features" no doubt allude to a little poem Susan wrote on an endpaper, seen in the image below.

Larger Image

Littelle booke when I am gone

tell thy misteris that here was one,

That in hart could bee content

to Liue at her commaundemente

S [paraph] B

I must admit I'm a bit confused with this poem's syntax. What does "one" refer to? The book or Susan? "Liue at her commaundemente" suggests a duteous obligation of some kind, perhaps indicating that Susan served a "misteris" of higher social standing, presumably the person to whom the book would pass in the event of Burnette's death. Maybe Susan wrote this note late in her life, hoping to perpetuate her memory through the acts of inscription and bequeathal. Or, if "one" refers to the book itself, than perhaps Susan simply anthropomorphizes the book as a dutiful servant when she says it "could bee content / to Liue at her commaundemente." Regardless of the reading, the inscription offers an interesting perspective on female book ownership of the period.