The Sistine Chapel: A $22,000 Art-Book Collection Features Remarkable High-Resolution Views of the Murals of Michelangelo, Botticelli & Other Renaissance Masters

Michelan­ge­lo did­n’t want to paint the ceil­ing of the Sis­tine Chapel. Hav­ing con­sid­ered him­self more of a sculp­tor than a painter — and, giv­en his skill with stone, not with­out cause — he felt that tak­ing on such an ambi­tious project could bring him to ruin. But one does not sim­ply turn down a job offer from the Vat­i­can, and espe­cial­ly not when one is among the most respect­ed artists in six­teenth-cen­tu­ry Italy. In the event, Michelan­ge­lo proved equal to the task, or rather, much more than equal: he com­plet­ed his ceil­ing fres­coes in 1512 for Pope Julius II, and 23 years lat­er was com­mis­sioned again by Pope Paul III to paint the Last Judg­ment over the altar.

Long before Michelan­ge­lo touched a brush to the Sis­tine Chapel’s ceil­ing, a team of painters includ­ing San­dro Bot­ti­cel­li, Pietro Perug­i­no, and Pin­turic­chio had already adorned the build­ing’s inte­ri­or with fres­coes depict­ing the lives of Moses and Jesus Christ.

Tak­en togeth­er, the Sis­tine Chapel has long been regard­ed as one of the great­est achieve­ments in West­ern art, if not the great­est of them all. Hence the six mil­lion tourists who vis­it­ed it each year before COVID-19; hence, more recent­ly, the painstak­ing care that has gone into the pro­duc­tion of The Sis­tine Chapel, a three-vol­ume at-book set that brings the build­ing’s Bib­li­cal visions as close as any earth­ly read­er cold hope to see them.


The fruit of a half-decade-long col­lab­o­ra­tion between the Vat­i­can and two pub­lish­ers, Call­away Arts & Enter­tain­ment and Scrip­ta Maneant, The Sis­tine Chapel demand­ed 65 nights of con­sec­u­tive work from its pho­tog­ra­phers, who shot 270,000 high-res­o­lu­tion images. Cap­tur­ing the mas­ter­works on the walls and ceil­ing down to the tex­tures of their paint and brush­strokes neces­si­tat­ed climb­ing up on scaf­fold­ing, just as Michelan­ge­lo him­self famous­ly did to make his con­tri­bu­tions in the first place. Lim­it­ed by the Vat­i­can to a print run of 1,999 copies, the set is now avail­able for pur­chase at Abe­Books, though it will cost you $22,000. In a sense that’s a small price to pay, for as Goethe put it, “with­out hav­ing seen the Sis­tine Chapel one can form no appre­cia­ble idea of what one man is capa­ble of achiev­ing.” Find The Sis­tine Chapel book col­lec­tion here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a 3D Vir­tu­al Tour of the Sis­tine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basil­i­ca and Oth­er Art-Adorned Vat­i­can Spaces

Michelangelo’s David: The Fas­ci­nat­ing Sto­ry Behind the Renais­sance Mar­ble Cre­ation

New Video Shows What May Be Michelangelo’s Lost & Now Found Bronze Sculp­tures

Michelangelo’s Hand­writ­ten 16th-Cen­tu­ry Gro­cery List

The Sis­tine Chapel of the Ancients: Archae­ol­o­gists Dis­cov­er 8 Miles of Art Paint­ed on Rock Walls in the Ama­zon

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Library of Esoterica: Taschen’s Visual History of Tarot, Astrology & Witchcraft

Gen­er­a­tions and gen­er­a­tions of Amer­i­cans dis­sat­is­fied with life in their home­towns have act­ed on the same migra­to­ry impulse: to go west. Many have done so in order to make their for­tunes, but a fair few have been seek­ing vari­eties of sat­is­fac­tion alto­geth­er less tan­gi­ble. In the human spirt in gen­er­al and the Amer­i­can spir­it in par­tic­u­lar, there is a yearn­ing for “secret knowl­edge” of real­i­ty’s hid­den work­ings. Those whose spir­its most yearn for that knowl­edge tend to end up in Cal­i­for­nia, the log­i­cal end of Amer­i­can civ­i­liza­tion. There they’ve found vibrant com­mu­ni­ties of yogis, spir­i­tu­al­ists, Aene­r­i­ans, theosophists, heal­ers, Unar­i­ans, alchemists, Rosi­cru­cians, witch­es, tarot read­ers, astrologers… the list goes on.

More recent­ly, Cal­i­for­nia has also been home to Taschen’s Amer­i­can head­quar­ters, the acclaimed pub­lish­ers of lav­ish­ly pro­duced books on art and cul­ture with no com­punc­tion about explor­ing the fringes of human expe­ri­ence. A cou­ple of years ago we fea­tured their visu­al his­to­ry of tarot Divine Decks here on Open Cul­ture; now they’ve put out a three-vol­ume cof­fee-table Library of Eso­ter­i­ca that includes books on not just tarot but astrol­o­gy and witch­craft as well.

Assem­bled and designed to Taschen’s usu­al aes­thet­i­cal­ly painstak­ing stan­dard, the set comes edit­ed by writer and film­mak­er Jes­si­ca Hund­ley, who used the oppor­tu­ni­ty to open the most “inclu­sive and seduc­tive way into these prac­tices, which is through the art” they’ve inspired.

That’s what she told Los Ange­les Times’ Steffie Nel­son, who writes that “Hund­ley has been fas­ci­nat­ed by alter­na­tive spir­i­tu­al­i­ties and the occult since she was a goth-punk teenag­er on the East Coast.” Lat­er she moved to Los Ange­les, “drawn to the city’s lega­cy of eso­teric explo­ration and its renown as a place where dreams are made man­i­fest and iden­ti­ty is muta­ble.” This  pro­jec­t’s world­wide search for art and oth­er mate­ri­als relat­ed to these fields of eso­ter­i­ca began at Los Ange­les’ own Philo­soph­i­cal Research Soci­ety, found­ed in the nine­teen-thir­ties by mys­tic Man­ly P. Hall. With its rich­ly repro­duced imagery and accom­pa­ny­ing explana­to­ry essays, the Library of Eso­ter­i­ca offers a read­ing expe­ri­ence liable to open any­one’s doors of per­cep­tion. The age of Aquar­ius may be over, but there’s a seek­er born every minute.

The Library of Eso­ter­i­ca can be pur­chased as a com­plete col­lec­tion. Or you can pur­chase sep­a­rate install­ments on Astrol­o­gy, Tarot and Witch­craft.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Divine Decks: A Visu­al His­to­ry of Tarot: The First Com­pre­hen­sive Sur­vey of Tarot Gets Pub­lished by Taschen

The Artis­tic & Mys­ti­cal World of Tarot: See Decks by Sal­vador Dalí, Aleis­ter Crow­ley, H.R. Giger & More

Exquis­ite Water­col­ors of Demons, Mag­ic & Signs: Behold the Com­pendi­um Of Demonolo­gy and Mag­ic from 1775

Aleis­ter Crow­ley: The Wickedest Man in the World Doc­u­ments the Life of the Bizarre Occultist, Poet & Moun­taineer

Watch Häx­an, the Clas­sic Cin­e­mat­ic Study of Witch­craft Nar­rat­ed by William S. Bur­roughs (1922)

Athe­ists & Agnos­tics Also Fre­quent­ly Believe in the Super­nat­ur­al, a New Study Shows

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Survival Guide to the Biblical Apocalypse

The Book of Rev­e­la­tion is a strong com­peti­tor for weird­est text in all of ancient lit­er­a­ture. Or, at least, it is “the strangest and most dis­turb­ing book in the whole Bible,” says the nar­ra­tor of the video above from a chan­nel called hochela­ga, which fea­tures “obscure top­ics that deserve more atten­tion.” Most of these are super­nat­ur­al or reli­gious in nature. But if you’re look­ing for a reli­gious or the­o­log­i­cal inter­pre­ta­tion of St. John of Pat­mos’ bizarre prophet­ic vision, look else­where. The exam­i­na­tion above pro­ceeds “from a sec­u­lar, non-reli­gious per­spec­tive.”

Instead, we’re promised a sur­vival guide in the unlike­ly (but who knows, right) event that the prophe­cy comes true. But what, exact­ly, would that look like? Rev­e­la­tion is “high­ly sym­bol­ic” and very “non-lit­er­al.” The mean­ings of its sym­bols are rather inscrutable and have seemed to shift and change each cen­tu­ry, depend­ing on how its inter­preters want­ed to use it to for­ward agen­das of their own.

This has, of course, been no less true in the 20th and 21st cen­turies. If you grew up in the 1970s and 80s, for exam­ple, you were bound to have come across the works of Hal Lind­say – author of The Late Great Plan­et Earth (turned into a 1977 film nar­rat­ed by Orson Welles). And if you lived through the 1990s, you sure­ly heard of his enter­tain­ing suc­ces­sors: the bloody-mind­ed Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye and Jer­ry Jenk­ins.

The Apoc­a­lypse has been big busi­ness in pub­lish­ing and oth­er media for 50 plus years now. Rev­e­la­tion itself is an incred­i­bly obscure book, but the use of its lan­guage and imagery for prof­it and pros­e­lyt­ing “made the Apoc­a­lypse a pop­u­lar con­cern,” as Erin A. Smith writes for Human­i­ties. Lind­say’s book sold both as reli­gious fact and sci­ence fic­tion, a genre lat­er evan­gel­i­cal writ­ers like LaHaye and Jenk­ins exploit­ed on pur­pose. The influ­ence has always gone both ways. “A kind of sec­u­lar apoc­a­lyp­tic sen­si­bil­i­ty per­vades much con­tem­po­rary writ­ing about our cur­rent world,” Paul Boy­er, Pro­fes­sor of His­to­ry at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Wis­con­sin, Madi­son, tells PBS.

Whether it’s a dis­cus­sion of cli­mate cat­a­stro­phe, viral pan­dem­ic, eco­nom­ic col­lapse, the rise of arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence, or civ­il strife and inter­na­tion­al war­fare, the apoc­a­lyp­tic metaphors stack up in our imag­i­na­tions, often with­out us even notic­ing. Get to know one of their pri­ma­ry sources in the video intro­duc­tion to Rev­e­la­tion just above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Isaac Asimov’s Guide to the Bible: A Wit­ty, Eru­dite Atheist’s Guide to the World’s Most Famous Book

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty 

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es 

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

17th-Century Buddhist Texts for the Illiterate: How “Buddhist Emoji” Made the Sūtra Legible for Those Who Couldn’t Read

Even with 21st-cen­tu­ry teach­ing aids, the writ­ten Japan­ese lan­guage isn’t the sort of thing one picks up in a few weeks’ study. A few hun­dred years ago it would’ve been much more dif­fi­cult still, espe­cial­ly for those engaged in learn­ing the sūtras or scrip­tures of Bud­dhism. “The stakes of cor­rect recita­tion were high in the pre- and ear­ly mod­ern era,” writes The Pub­lic Domain Review’s Hunter Dukes, “with strict rules for pro­nun­ci­a­tion exist­ing since the 1100s, and sūtra recita­tion (dokyō) becom­ing an art form in the fol­low­ing cen­tu­ry.” Import­ed from India and rewrit­ten in clas­si­cal Chi­nese with few clues as to how its words should actu­al­ly be spo­ken, the Bud­dhist canon of east Asia set a mighty chal­lenge even before the per­fect­ly lit­er­ate.

As for the illit­er­ate — of whom, in com­plete con­trast to mod­ern-day Japan, there were many — what chance did they stand? Sal­va­tion, or at any rate a chance at sal­va­tion, arrived in the 17th cen­tu­ry in the form of texts writ­ten just for them. “Japan­ese print­ers began cre­at­ing a type of book for the illit­er­ate, allow­ing them to recite sūtras  and oth­er devo­tion­al prayers, with­out knowl­edge of any writ­ten lan­guage,” writes Dukes. “The texts work by a rebus prin­ci­ple (known as han­ji­mono), where each drawn image, when named aloud, sounds out a Chi­nese syl­la­ble.” Geared toward an agri­cul­tur­al “read­er­ship,” this sys­tem drew its imagery from what they knew: farm­ing tools, domes­tic ani­mals, and even fig­ures of myth.

The sec­tions here come from a 20th-cen­tu­ry exam­ple of this type of pub­li­ca­tion, var­i­ous­ly Meku­ra-kyō or Mon­mō-kyō, held by the British Library. It con­tains a ren­di­tion of the text of the Heart Sūtra, the most wide­ly known piece of scrip­ture in the canon of Mahāyā­na Bud­dhism, and as the Kyoto Nation­al Musem’s Eikei Akao puts it, “prob­a­bly the best-known, most well-loved sutra in Japan.” (You may also remem­ber the 37-minute ver­sion per­formed by beat­box­ing Bud­dhist monk Yoget­su Akasa­ka, which we pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.) Not long ago, the Unit­ed States Library of Con­gress post­ed this Heart Sūtra for the illit­er­ate to its Face­book page. The occa­sion? World Emo­ji Day.

“Because these pic­tures rep­re­sent sounds, rather than objects or ideas, they don’t real­ly act as pic­tograms the way emo­ji do,” admits the writer of the Library of Con­gress’ post. “But in their icon-like appear­ance, suc­cinct and func­tion­al, they do bear a resem­blance to our use of emo­ji today.” It was then reblogged on Lan­guage Log, one of whose com­menters offered some expla­na­tion of the sys­tem as seen in the pic­tures: “The San­skrit phrase ‘Pra­jñāpāramitā’ is ren­dered ‘Han­nya­harami­ta’ in Japan­ese. ‘Han­nya’ here is writ­ten with a draw­ing of the han­nya demon mask from Noh. ‘Hara­mi’ appears to be a pic­ture of a body (mi) in an abdomen (hara), and then ‘ta’ is a pic­ture of a rice­field (tan­bo, the “ta” of many Japan­ese names, like Tana­ka and Toy­ota).” Hands have been wring­ing about the poten­tial of inter­net com­mu­ni­ca­tion to deliv­er us into a “post-lit­er­ate” soci­ety; per­haps these curi­ous chap­ters in the his­to­ry of the Japan­ese lan­guage show us where to go from there.

via The Pub­lic Domain Review

Relat­ed con­trast:

Down­load 280 Pic­tographs That Put Japan­ese Cul­ture Into a New Visu­al Lan­guage: They’re Free for the Pub­lic to Use

Breath­tak­ing­ly Detailed Tibetan Book Print­ed 40 Years Before the Guten­berg Bible

The World’s Largest Col­lec­tion of Tibetan Bud­dhist Lit­er­a­ture Now Online

The Old­est Book Print­ed with Mov­able Type is Not The Guten­berg Bible: Jikji, a Col­lec­tion of Kore­an Bud­dhist Teach­ings, Pre­dat­ed It By 78 Years and It’s Now Dig­i­tized Online

One of the Old­est Bud­dhist Man­u­scripts Has Been Dig­i­tized & Put Online: Explore the Gand­hara Scroll

A Beat­box­ing Bud­dhist Monk Cre­ates Music for Med­i­ta­tion

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Brief Animated History of Martin Luther’s 95 Theses & the Reformation–Which Changed Europe and Later the World

What­ev­er our reli­gious back­ground, we all soon­er or lat­er have occa­sion to speak of nail­ing the­ses to a door. Most of us use the phrase as a metaphor, but sel­dom entire­ly with­out aware­ness of the his­tor­i­cal events that inspired it. On Octo­ber 31, 1517, a Ger­man priest and the­olo­gian named Mar­tin Luther nailed to the door of Wit­ten­berg’s All Saints’ Church his own the­ses, 95 of them, which col­lec­tive­ly made an argu­ment against the Roman Catholic Church’s prac­tice of sell­ing indul­gences, or par­dons for sins. Luther could not accept that the poor should “spend all their mon­ey buy­ing their way out of pun­ish­ment so they can go to heav­en,” nor that it should be “eas­i­er for the rich to avoid a long time in pur­ga­to­ry.”

In oth­er words, Luther believed that the Church in his time had become “way too much about mon­ey and too lit­tle about God,” accord­ing to the nar­ra­tion of the short film above. Cre­at­ed by Tum­ble­head Stu­dios and show­cased by Nation­al Geo­graph­ic for the 500th anniver­sary of the orig­i­nal the­sis-nail­ing, its five play­ful­ly ani­mat­ed min­utes tell the sto­ry of the Ref­or­ma­tion, which saw Protes­tantism split off from Catholi­cism as a result of Luther’s agi­ta­tion. It also man­ages to include such events as Luther’s own trans­la­tion of the New Tes­ta­ment, pre­vi­ous­ly avail­able only in Greek and Latin, into his native Ger­man, the pub­li­ca­tion of which cre­at­ed the basis of the mod­ern Ger­man lan­guage as spo­ken and writ­ten today.

Luther’s trans­la­tion gave ordi­nary peo­ple “the oppor­tu­ni­ty to read the Bible in their own lan­guage,” free from the inter­pre­ta­tions of the priests and the Church. It also gave them, per­haps less inten­tion­al­ly, the abil­i­ty to “use the words of the Bible as an argu­ment for all sorts of things.” Luther’s thoughts were soon mar­shaled “in the pow­er strug­gles of princes, in revolts, and in the strug­gle between kings, princes, and the Pope about who actu­al­ly decides what.” Squab­bles, bat­tles, and full-scale wars ensued. The con­se­quent insti­tu­tion­al schisms changed the world in ways vis­i­ble half a mil­len­ni­um lat­er — but they first changed Europe, where traces of that trans­for­ma­tion still reveal them­selves most strik­ing­ly. Few trav­el­ers can be trust­ed to find and explain those traces more ably than pub­lic-tele­vi­sion host Rick Steves.

In Luther and the Ref­or­ma­tion, his 2017 spe­cial above, Steves vis­its all the impor­tant sites involved in the cen­tral fig­ure’s life jour­ney, a rep­re­sen­ta­tion in micro­cosm of Europe’s grand shift from medieval­ism into moder­ni­ty.  In more than 40 years of pro­fes­sion­al trav­el, Steves has paid count­less vis­its to the mon­u­ments of Catholic Europe. Appre­ci­at­ing them, he admit­ted in a recent New York Times Mag­a­zine pro­file, required him to “park my Protes­tant sword at the door.” His sto­ry-of-the-Ref­or­ma­tion tour, how­ev­er, lets him draw on his own Luther­an tra­di­tion with his char­ac­ter­is­tic enthu­si­asm. That enthu­si­asm, in part, that has made him a such a suc­cess­ful trav­el entre­pre­neur, though he pre­sum­ably knows when to stop amass­ing wealth: after all, it’s eas­i­er for a camel to go through the eye of a nee­dle than for a rich man to enter the king­dom of God. Or so the New Tes­ta­ment has it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the World’s Five Major Reli­gions: Hin­duism, Judaism, Bud­dhism, Chris­tian­i­ty & Islam

60-Sec­ond Adven­tures in Reli­gion: Watch New Ani­ma­tions by The Open Uni­ver­si­ty

Ani­mat­ed Map Shows How the Five Major Reli­gions Spread Across the World (3000 BC – 2000 AD)

The Reli­gious Affil­i­a­tion of Com­ic Book Heroes

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty

Rick Steves’ Europe: Binge Watch 11 Sea­sons of America’s Favorite Trav­el­er Free Online

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

100 Days of Dante: Join the Largest Divine Comedy Reading Group in the World (Starts September 8)

This year marks the 700th anniver­sary of Dante Alighier­i’s death — which means it also marks the 701st anniver­sary of his great work the Div­ina Com­me­dia, known in Eng­lish as the Divine Com­e­dy. We’ve all got to go some time, and it’s some­how suit­able that Dante went not long after telling the tale of his own jour­ney through the after­life, com­plete with stops in Hell, Pur­ga­to­ry, and Par­adise. It remains a jour­ney we can all take and re-take — and inter­pre­tive­ly grap­ple with — still these sev­en cen­turies lat­er. Start­ing this month, you can take it as a group tour, so to speak, by join­ing 100 Days of Dante, the largest Dante read­ing group in the world.

A project of Bay­lor Uni­ver­si­ty’s Hon­ors Col­lege (with sup­port from sev­er­al oth­er Amer­i­can edu­ca­tion­al insti­tu­tions), 100 Days of Dante has launched a web site “through which mod­ern seek­ers and pil­grims can fol­low the great epic poem with free video pre­sen­ta­tions three times a week.”

So writes Aleteia’s John Burg­er, who explains that “the three books of the Divine Com­e­dy, known in Ital­ian as Infer­no, Pur­ga­to­rio, and Par­adiso, are divid­ed into 33 chap­ters known as can­tos. [Infer­no actu­al­ly had 34.] Each video will present one can­to, with com­men­tary on it from lead­ing experts in Dante stud­ies.” You can also read the entire work on 100 Days of Dan­te’s web site, in Eng­lish or Ital­ian — a lan­guage Dan­te’s own poet­ry did much to shape.

Nobody inter­est­ed in the lan­guage of Italy, let alone the coun­try’s his­to­ry and cul­ture, can do with­out expe­ri­enc­ing the Divine Com­e­dy. One of 100 Days of Dante’s aims is a re-empha­sis of its nature as a thor­ough­ly reli­gious work, one that ren­ders in vivid, some­times har­row­ing detail the world­view held by Chris­tians of Dan­te’s place and time. But believ­er or oth­er­wise, you can join in the read­ing from when it begins on Sep­tem­ber 8, to when it con­cludes on East­er 2022. You may well find, as the long Italy-res­i­dent Eng­lish writer and trans­la­tor Tim Parks observes, that Dante has a way of slip­ping through con­ve­nient inter­pre­ta­tive frame­works cul­tur­al, his­tor­i­cal, and even reli­gious. “Long after the fires of Hell have burned them­selves out,” he writes, “the debate about the Div­ina Com­me­dia rages on.” Find more edu­ca­tion­al resources on Dante and The Divine Com­e­dy below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Free Online Course on Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

An Illus­trat­ed and Inter­ac­tive Dante’s Infer­no: Explore a New Dig­i­tal Com­pan­ion to the Great 14th-Cen­tu­ry Epic Poem

A Dig­i­tal Archive of the Ear­li­est Illus­trat­ed Edi­tions of Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy (1487–1568)

Visu­al­iz­ing Dante’s Hell: See Maps & Draw­ings of Dante’s Infer­no from the Renais­sance Through Today

Explore Divine Com­e­dy Dig­i­tal, a New Dig­i­tal Data­base That Col­lects Sev­en Cen­turies of Art Inspired by Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy

Why Should We Read Dante’s Divine Com­e­dy? An Ani­mat­ed Video Makes the Case

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Medieval Scribes Discouraged Theft of Manuscripts by Adding Curses Threatening Death & Damnation to Their Pages

I’ve con­clud­ed that one shouldn’t lend a book unless one is pre­pared to part with it for good. But most books are fair­ly easy to replace. Not so in the Mid­dle Ages, when every man­u­script count­ed as one of a kind. Theft was often on the minds of the scribes who copied and illus­trat­ed books, a labo­ri­ous task requir­ing lit­er­al hours of blood, sweat and tears each day.

Scrib­al copy­ing took place “only by nat­ur­al light — can­dles were too big a risk to the books,” Sarah Laskow writes at Atlas Obscu­ra. Bent over dou­ble, scribes could not let their atten­tion wan­der. The art, one scribe com­plained, “extin­guish­es the light from the eyes, it bends the back, it crush­es the vis­cera and the ribs, it brings forth pain to the kid­neys, and weari­ness to the whole body.”

The results deserved high secu­ri­ty, and Medieval monks “did not hes­i­tate to use the worst pun­ish­ments they knew” for man­u­script theft, writes Laskow, name­ly threats of “excom­mu­ni­ca­tion from the church and hor­ri­ble, painful death.”

 

Theft deter­rence came in the form of inge­nious curs­es, writ­ten into the man­u­scripts them­selves, going “back to the 7th cen­tu­ry BCE,” Rebec­ca Rom­ney writes at Men­tal Floss. Appear­ing “in Latin, ver­nac­u­lar Euro­pean lan­guages, Ara­bic, Greek, and more,” they came in such cre­ative fla­vors as death by roast­ing, as in a Bible copied in Ger­many around 1172: “If any­one steals it: may he die, may he be roast­ed in a fry­ing pan, may the falling sick­ness [epilep­sy] and fever attack him, and may he be rotat­ed [on the break­ing wheel] and hanged. Amen.”

A few hun­dred years lat­er, a man­u­script curse from 15th-cen­tu­ry France also promis­es roast­ing, or worse:

Who­ev­er steals this book
Will hang on a gal­lows in Paris,
And, if he isn’t hung, he’ll drown,
And, if he doesn’t drown, he’ll roast,
And, if he doesn’t roast, a worse end will befall him.

The pluck­ing out of eyes also appears to have been a theme. “Who­ev­er to steal this vol­ume tries, Out with his eyes, out with his eyes!” warns the final cou­plet in a 13th-cen­tu­ry curse from a Vat­i­can Library man­u­script. Anoth­er curse in verse, found by author Marc Dro­gin, author of Anath­e­ma! Medieval Scribes and the His­to­ry of Book Curs­es, gets espe­cial­ly graph­ic with the eye goug­ing:

To steal this book, if you should try,
It’s by the throat you’ll hang high.
And ravens then will gath­er ’bout
To find your eyes and pull them out.
And when you’re scream­ing ‘oh, oh, oh!’
Remem­ber, you deserved this woe.

The hoped-for con­se­quences were not always so grim­ly humor­ous. “Grue­some as these pun­ish­ments seem,” the British Library writes, “to most medieval read­ers the worst curs­es were those that put the eter­nal fate of their souls at risk rather than their bod­i­ly health.” These would often be marked with the Greek word “Anath­e­ma,” some­times “fol­lowed by the Ara­ma­ic for­mu­la ‘Maranatha’ (‘Come, Lord!’).” Both appear in a curse added to a man­u­script of let­ters and ser­mons from Lesnes Abbey. Yet, unlike most medieval curs­es, here the thief is giv­en a chance to make resti­tu­tion. “Any­one who removes it or does dam­age to it: if the same per­son does not repay the church suf­fi­cient­ly, may he be cursed.”

Curs­es were not the only secu­ri­ty solu­tions of man­u­script cul­ture. Medieval monks also used book chains and locked chests to secure the fruit of their hard labor. As the old say­ing goes, “trust in God, but tie your camel.” But if locks and divine prov­i­dence should fail, scribes trust­ed that the fear of pun­ish­ment – even eter­nal damna­tion — down the road would be enough to make would-be book thieves think again.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

160,000+ Medieval Man­u­scripts Online: Where to Find Them

The Illu­mi­nat­ed Man­u­scripts of Medieval Europe: A Free Online Course from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Col­orado

Why Butt Trum­pets & Oth­er Bizarre Images Appeared in Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­scripts

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Carl Sagan Answers the Ultimate Question: Is There a God? (1994)

Some pub­lic intel­lec­tu­als asso­ci­at­ed with sci­ence court dis­agree­ment with reli­gious believ­ers; oth­ers cul­ti­vate suites of rhetor­i­cal tech­niques express­ly in order to avoid it. While Carl Sagan did­n’t shrink from, say, debat­ing a cre­ation­ist on talk radio, he always engaged with char­ac­ter­is­tic aplomb. But deal­ing with bel­liger­ent callers-in is eas­i­er, in a way, than respond­ing to an earnest, straight­for­ward­ly expressed curios­i­ty about one’s own reli­gious beliefs. In the Q&A clip above, tak­en from his 1994 “lost lec­ture,” Sagan receives just such a ques­tion: “What is your per­son­al reli­gion? Is there any type of God to you? Like, is there a pur­pose, giv­en that we’re just sit­ting on this speck in the mid­dle of this sea of stars?”

“Now, I don’t want to duck any ques­tions,” Sagan replies, “and I’m not going to duck this one.” Nev­er­the­less, he requests a tri­fling clar­i­fi­ca­tion: “What do you mean when you use the word God?”  Pressed by none oth­er than Carl Sagan to define God, few of us would pre­sum­ably hold up well.

Here the ques­tion­er changes his angle, draw­ing on Sagan’s own def­i­n­i­tion in Pale Blue Dot of the “Great Demo­tions,” those “down-lift­ing expe­ri­ences, demon­stra­tions of our appar­ent insignif­i­cance, wounds that sci­ence has, in its search for Galileo’s facts, deliv­ered to human pride.” And so, “giv­en all these demo­tions,” the man asks, “why don’t we just blow our­selves up?”

“If we do blow our­selves up,” Sagan asks, “does that dis­prove the exis­tence of God?” This is an intrigu­ing rever­sal, but Sagan does­n’t sim­ply reply to ques­tions with ques­tions. Sci­en­tif­ic knowl­edge increas­ing­ly leaves us “on our own,” he says, which is a state “much more respon­si­ble than hop­ing some­one will save us from our­selves.” What if we’re wrong, and a deity does indeed step in to save us? “Okay, that’s all right, I’m for that; we, you know, hedged our bets. It Pas­cal’s bar­gain run back­wards.” The prob­lem lies with God itself, “a word so ambigu­ous, that means so many dif­fer­ent things,” and one used “to seem to agree with some­one else with whom you do not agree.” Despite its impor­tance, not least for “social lubri­ca­tion,” no term can be use­ful to truth that encom­pass­es so many dif­fer­ent per­son­al con­cep­tions — bil­lions and bil­lions of them, one might say.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan, Stephen Hawk­ing & Arthur C. Clarke Dis­cuss God, the Uni­verse, and Every­thing Else

Hear Carl Sagan Art­ful­ly Refute a Cre­ation­ist on a Talk Radio Show: “The Dar­win­ian Con­cept of Evo­lu­tion is Pro­found­ly Ver­i­fied”

Carl Sagan Explains Evo­lu­tion in an Eight-Minute Ani­ma­tion

Ted Turn­er Asks Carl Sagan “Are You a Social­ist?;” Sagan Responds Thought­ful­ly (1989)

Carl Sagan Pre­dicts the Decline of Amer­i­ca: Unable to Know “What’s True,” We Will Slide, “With­out Notic­ing, Back into Super­sti­tion & Dark­ness” (1995)

Carl Sagan Tells John­ny Car­son What’s Wrong with Star Wars: “They’re All White” & There’s a “Large Amount of Human Chau­vin­ism in It” (1978)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

« Go Back — More in this category... »
Quantcast