Part 3

The Bible even as literature--and both in its origin and history--is a human as well as a divine book. It is _human_ in that it is _to_ man and _for_ man, and not to and for supernatural intelligences or the conceived populations of other planets; it is _divine_ in that it is _of_ God and _from_ God. There is a real sense in which the definition of the Bible as given by Frederick W. Robertson is correct, "The Bible is the thoughts of God in the words of men." And we would hold that the Bible must be studied, if in a scientific, intelligent, and reverent spirit, under the two-fold conception that it is both a human and a divine book. And we believe also that nothing can ever be gained for the Bible, considering it a supernatural book, by setting up any erroneous or untenable hypotheses concerning its origin, character, or history on its behalf. And, moreover, the Bible nowhere and never makes any such an appeal on its own behalf, or pleads for exemption from the accepted principles of historical criticism. "The written word of God, like the Word which became flesh," says Professor G. F. Wright, "must be human in its manward aspect; for the written word is divine thought manifest in human language as Christ was God manifest in human flesh. As the compound personality of Christ was conditioned by the flesh, so the compound character of a written revelation is conditioned by the nature of language. As God in becoming incarnate did not take upon Himself the form of angels but the seed of Abraham, so a written revelation is not sent in a form adapted to heavenly beings but in a form suited to men."[16] And if the Bible, while it is from God, is for man then it must be adapted to man's receptive condition. If the Bible is truly a "revelation" then it must "reveal"; which is only to say that it must be given in terms or modes of expression adapted or accessible to the human capacity;--it must meet man's condition at the time when the revelation is given as well as his condition a thousand or ten thousand years later; or, in other words, "revelation" must "reveal." Revelation has thus been progressive up to the period of its fulness or up to the cycle of its completion, with an expansive capacity for all future time. Progressive capacity is essential to the conception of a revelation that is universal and final. Borrowing the fine expression of Professor A. B. Bruce, revelation "must take the recipients of benefits along with it, and move at a pace with which they can keep up." Thus, revelation in its methods accords with nature in that it took the form of an historical movement and was subject to the laws of periodic development. "The redemptive purpose of God," declares Professor Bruce, "was not ushered into the world a full-grown fact; it evolved itself by a regular process of growth, and the process was marked by three salient features: slow movement, partial action, and advance from the more or less imperfect, not only in knowledge, but also in morality." And he says, further, "God had to teach Israel to walk in the paths of righteousness like a nurse taking a child by the arms, and had to exercise a nurse-like condescension and patience in connection with the self-imposed task of Israel's moral education, and to become as a child Himself, speaking in broken language and giving laws of a very rude and primitive character adapted to the condition of the pupil."[17]

The Bible is, truly, a supernatural book. One once confessed to an abounding confidence in the plenary inspiration of the scriptures in that he "accepted the Bible from 'lid' to 'lid'--and including the 'lid.'" But the supernaturalism which we believe belongs to or inheres in the Bible does not attach to the "lids"--to the materials by means of which the scriptures, as literature, have been communicated and preserved from age to age. (The fact which is here suggested is all apart from the question of inspiration.) God wastes no energies in a miraculous preservation of the materials of books,--not even of the materials of the "good Book." God does not violate, we think, the great law of "parsimony" by exerting either superfluous or supernatural energies for the accomplishment of His purposes. It was only when King Jehoiakim in his blind rage and folly cut the "roll" in pieces and burnt its mutilated fragments, that the supernatural energies were called into requisition to _restore_ the "words of the book, which Jehoiakim, king of Judah, had burned with fire." (Jeremiah 36:32.) God has, however, guarded, preserved, and treasured--and in a marvelous, not to say supernatural manner--the "revelation" contained in the "good Book" so that no age has been left without its ample and unimpeachable witness. And this is all that we may reasonably demand for a revelation that is intended and destined to be authoritative, universal, and final. The destruction of the materials of books does not weigh if the contents are preserved. The impious King of Judah did not destroy the holy law of God when he utterly destroyed the parchment upon which it was inscribed. What mattered it if the "roll" was consumed since God had His faithful prophet and his scribe to produce another and ampler roll? And what matters it if a given copy, or any number of copies of a book, or of the Bible, be lost or destroyed so long as other unnumbered copies of the same are preserved beyond the reach of bad men or the destructive forces of corroding and destroying time? It does not matter, supremely, since it is the contents and not the materials of a book that claims the supreme consideration.

The materials which embody the divine revelation have ever been subject to precisely the same exposures and vicissitudes of alternating fortune and misfortune as those to which all other literary productions have been subjected. And, furthermore, it is the well-known fact that the "autograph" copies or the first writings of the New Testament are all lost, and, probably, without the remotest hope of recovery. They are not even mentioned by the authors and writers who succeeded the Apostles as having ever been seen by them. The conclusion is forced upon us that these first copies of the New Testament writings probably all perished before the close of the first century. [The "paper" then in common use was that made from the Egyptian papyrus plant, and this all perished except that which had been fortuitously (but not miraculously) preserved in Egyptian tombs and mummy-cases or under lava-beds at Pompeii and Herculaneum. The oldest of the existing copies of the scriptures are the Sinaitic and the Vatican Manuscripts which were written in the Greek language on vellum parchment at about the middle of the fourth century, and are thus above fifteen and a half centuries old.] In view of this destruction and loss of the originals of the New Testament writings, we may "restore" the "autographs" of our scriptures only by the methods which apply equally to all literature, and which are adequate to the approximate "restoration" of the scripture text, viz., by the translation or counter-translation of later copies and the versions, back to the earlier sources; and thus come, substantially, to the original writings.

VI

MATERIALS EMBODYING LITERATURE

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."

VII

VARIETIES AND CHANGES IN THE MATERIALS OF BOOKS

The materials upon which literature has been embodied, and the changes and improvements which these materials have undergone from age to age, opens up one of the most interesting chapters of bibliographical science and of the world's history. A knowledge of the materials successively used in the book-making industry, and of the improvements through which these have continually passed, together with the various kinds of the completed products, the style of writing (there is a "gait" of hand as well as of foot), and certain distinguishable characteristics of the literature of the different periods, all assist in fixing with approximate certainty the date at which a manuscript was produced.

In considering the materials of books it needs to be held in mind that the time of a manuscript's production was seldom affixed to it until a late date; that must be determined or inferred from collateral data. We would instance the "water marks" of manufactured paper as an example of these collateral data helping to determine the age of a manuscript. It is a well known fact that every paper manufactory has its own individual mark of identification for its output. This is its protective "water mark" and is impressed in the texture or fiber of every sheet made, and at regular intervals in the sheet. This is by no means an exclusively modern device of authentication, for these were known as early as the thirteenth century. In the fifteenth century, when the quality of the paper was improved, the "water marks" became more elaborate and, as early as the sixteenth century, the name of the maker of the paper was inserted. These marks of identification greatly aid the antiquarian student in fixing the date of any writing. They are often, too, of legal significance, inasmuch as important cases in courts of law in our times--and earlier times--have been known to turn upon such facts of evidence as the "water marks" of the paper used in documents, as other cases have turned upon the kind or quality of the ink or the "hand" in which the documents at issue were written. An incident narrated in a book by Dr. N. D. Hillis may not be historical though it does illustrate what has often actually occurred: "In looking at the thick white paper, upon a sheet of which the guide said that the deed had been written, John noticed that it was the usual parchment paper of the time--a paper strong, and made of linen, so that it might survive the rough usage of the settler's cabin. Holding it up between his eyes and the sun he noticed this water-mark and stamp--'C. Saur, Philadelphia, 1787.' The purported deed was dated 1740."[23] The press dispatches some time ago reported a case before the Senate in one of our states in which the conviction or the acquittal of the defendant turned, largely, upon the quality of the ink which had been used in signing a certain check, given in payment of a claim. It was admitted by experts on both sides that the ink employed in signing the check was of a different quality than that upon which the stub of the check had been filled out, and that the writing on stub and check, respectively, had not been made at the same time.