Among the exquisite bindings and unique collections of the Library in the Wormsley Estate, Oxfordshire, are three manuscripts by Esther Inglis. One of these, a calligraphic copy of Les Proverbes de Salomon [The Book of Proverbs] made by Inglis in 1599, was published as a facsimile in 2012 by the Roxburghe Club, edited by Nicolas Barker. Barker’s preface to this publication remains one of the most wide-reaching and pertinent introductions to Esther Inglis’ manuscripts to date.

In the summer of 2024, the Esther Inglis project was granted permission to photograph the three Inglis manuscripts held in the Wormsley Library for the project’s online exhibition. This blog post will introduce each of these manuscripts in turn, accompanied with photography carried out by Scriptura with the assistance of the Project Curator. This is the first time that the 1612 and 1624 manuscripts held at Wormsley Library have been made digitally available.

All images are copyright of the University of Edinburgh. The Esther Inglis project is grateful to the owners of the Wormsley Library Inglis manuscripts for granting permission for these books to be photographed, and to Robert Harding for assisting in this process.

This post is written by Anna-Nadine Pike, Project Curator of “Esther Inglis 2024”

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1. Les Proverbes de Salomon, 1599. Wormsley Library, RH158

Wormsley Library, RH158, pp. 14-15. Copyright University of Edinburgh

This manuscript copy of the Book of Proverbs in French was produced by Esther Inglis in 1599 as a gift for Catherine de Bourbon (1558-1604), princess of Navarre. As in the other monochrome manuscripts which Inglis made between 1599 and 1602, this Wormsley manuscript has an upright format and is abundantly decorated with pen-work designs which imitate contemporary engravings and ornamentation found in printed books.

Wormsley Library, RH158, pp. 22-23. Copyright University of Edinburgh

The Proverbs themselves have been copied out in Inglis’ characteristically wide range of calligraphic scripts; Nicolas Barker has identified eighteen different styles, most of which appear in this manuscript in multiple different sizes. Turning through its pages, this movement between scripts captivates a viewer’s attention, holding their gaze upon the words of the Proverbs which the manuscript contains.

Wormsley Library, RH158, folio v. Copyright University of Edinburgh

As in other books within this group, the Wormsley manuscript opens with Esther Inglis’ own self-portrait, drawn by hand working from an engraving of the French poet Georgette de Montenay. This self-portrait page also points to an important feature of the Wormsley manuscript; on all but one of its folios, the borders to each page are printed engravings. The exception is the page with Inglis’ own portrait, on which she draws a border in imitation of the printed page opposite it. The subtle visual contrast between these facing pages prompts a response in a viewer which recurs throughout Esther Inglis’ artistry and calligraphy. Her pages present a puzzle asking to be decoded; the viewer must constantly reassess what they think they are seeing, in a process which invites meditation upon the manuscript’s construction, and greater appreciation of Inglis’ artistic skill in producing it.

Wormsley Library, RH158, folio iv-v (detail). Copyright University of Edinburgh

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2. The Psalmes of David, 1612. Wormsley Library, BM1851

Wormsley Library, BM1851, fol ii. Copyright University of Edinburgh

Between 1612 and 1615, Esther Inglis began to work in a new style, producing a series of miniature Psalters which, in both size and aspect, closely follow printed Books of Psalms published at a similar time. These manuscripts are characterised by their upright format and their long introductory epistles written to their dedicatees, which represent Esther Inglis’ longest known works in prose. Other manuscripts found within this group are held in the Folger Shakespeare Library, the Royal Library of Sweden, and the National Library of Scotland. Wormsley Library’s BM1851 is important because it is the only manuscript within this group not made for a royal; it is dedicated instead to Sir David Murray of Gorthy, a close friend of Inglis and an important mediator between her family and the Jacobean court — Murray served as Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Prince Henry.

Of the four Psalters within this 1612-1615 group, the Wormsley manuscript bears the least decoration. Each of the other Books of Psalms contain miniature paintings of King David before the start of the Psalm texts, and the title-page to the National Library of Scotland is illuminated with a simplified version of Inglis’ characteristic floral borders. By contrast, BM1851 is embellished only with some gold additions to the title-page and opening of the text. In this way, it bears the closest similarity to the kinds of printed Psalters on which it would have been modelled.

Wormsley Library, BM1851. Copyright University of Edinburgh

Like her other miniature Psalters, this Wormsley manuscript also includes one of Esther Inglis’ self-portraits in a new style which she adopted in 1612. This portrait style sees Inglis depict herself within a blue oval frame, without the addition of the table or writing instruments seen in her earlier manuscripts. Each of these oval portraits were first painted onto card before being cut out and pasted into these miniature books.

Inglis’ 1612-1615 Books of Psalms are written in either French or English; the Wormsley example follows the English Psalms from the Geneva Bible. At first glance, it appears as though the manuscript is written in full imitation of a printed book — as a scribe, Esther Inglis’ later phase of work is characterised by her close reproduction of typeset texts. But the more a viewer turns the pages of this manuscript, the more they find elements which would never be possible in print. In her manuscript for David Murray, Esther Inglis’ writing changes every few Psalms — modulating between print imitation, and a fine secretary script which could only be drawn by hand. In this way, Inglis’ manuscript continually reminds its reader that the beauty and clarity of this pages is not the product of a printing press, but of her own hands.

Wormsley Library, BM1851, front endpapers. Copyright University of Edinburgh

The binding of this Wormsley manuscript is not original; it now has a red leather cover and has been rebound with decorative floral endpapers, typical of the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries. Nicolas Barker suggests that the leather binding is Scottish, pointing to the manuscript’s later life in Scotland.

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3. The Booke of the Psalmes of Davide in Prose, 1624. Wormsley Library, BM1850

Wormsley Library, BM1850, folio i. Copyright University of Edinburgh

Esther Inglis returned to the production of miniature Books of Psalms in 1624; alongside this manuscript at Wormsley Library, a second survives in Royal Library of Denmark. Contrasting with her 1612-1615 Psalters, these later manuscripts return to the decorative style of Esther Inglis’ early, monochrome work. They adapt the portrait type Inglis used between 1599 and 1602, and their title-pages repeat some of the decorative pen-work designs found in that earlier manuscript group. In a return to the structure of her 1599-1602 manuscripts, this Psalter also includes copies of the verses to Inglis originally written by Andrew Melville, John Johnstone and Robert Rollock in 1599. These same verses appear in the Proverbes also held at Wormsley, and comparison of these two manuscript types shows some circularity in the progression of Esther Inglis’ work across her lifetime — her final books hold visual echoes of her earliest productions.

Wormsley Library, BM1850, upper binding. Copyright University of Edinburgh

Both of these 1624 Psalters retain their original embroidered bindings; the example from Wormsley Library bears the simple of a pelican in piety, feeding its young. The symbolism of the pelican, an emblem of self-sacrifice frequently associated with the monarchy, implies a royal recipient for this manuscript. This is reinforced by the image of a phoenix on the lower binding, a further symbol befitting a monarch or their heir. The other Psalter produced by Inglis in 1624 is overtly dedicated to Prince Charles and dated to the 5th March; the Wormsley manuscript dates to the 5th May. The March manuscript, however, includes a long prose epistle to Charles which is missing from the May example, leaving its intended owner still unidentified.

Wormsley Library, BM1850, folio iv. Copyright University of Edinburgh

Esther Inglis’ Books of Psalms remain some of her least-known manuscripts in scholarship and beyond. The dispersal of Inglis’ miniature Psalters in libraries across the globe means that comparative work on these books remains a challenge. However, these Psalters are deserving of further attention. They embody an important interweaving of Esther Inglis’ diverse artistic skills, bringing together her crafts of calligraphy, illumination, miniaturisation, print imitation, and embroidery. The hope now is that the increasing accessibility of these manuscripts, facilitated by their digitisation and integration into the University of Edinburgh’s online exhibition, can ensure that these miniature celebrations of calligraphy are not forgotten within Esther Inglis’ remarkable manuscript corpus.

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This post looks at the development of handwriting and its practice in Western Europe, as seen through examples from the University of Edinburgh Library’s Special Collections.  It was written by Jaycee Streeter, Outreach and Communications Intern for the Esther Inglis Project. Jaycee is a History MSc student at the University, with research interests in late medieval and early modern Scottish history. 

Handwriting has long been more than just a means of communication—it is both an art form and a technical skill, as well as a reflection of cultural values. Over the centuries, the practice of handwriting has evolved in response to new technologies, educational methods, and aesthetic preferences. At the heart of this evolution lies a process of imitation and refinement, guided by teachers and handwriting manuals that sought to standardize and perfect script. From the carefully trained hands of medieval scribes to early modern calligraphers who experimented with new styles, and finally to 19th-century enthusiasts compiling historical examples, the history of handwriting is one of both continuity and transformation. 

This article traces the technical development of handwriting in Western Europe through the lens of imitation and instruction, as seen through examples from the University of Edinburgh Library’s Special Collections. It will start with the uniformity of Gothic script in medieval texts which relied on strict models and training, before moving to the early modern period, where the invention of new scripts was accompanied by the rise in handwriting manuals. Figures such as Esther Inglis, who honed her craft through calligraphic guides, and David Spence whose 1689 handwriting manual offered instruction, will demonstrate this trend. Finally, it will look at the 19th-century renewed interest in historical scripts, and the efforts to both compile early modern examples and imitate medieval scripts.  

Medieval Gothic

Medieval illuminated manuscripts are famous for their decadent designs and a Gothic writing-style called textualis. The uniformity of medieval Gothic script reflects highly structured training and disciplined practice of scribes. Medieval scribes typically learned to write through a structured apprenticeship, often within monastic or cathedral schools.  

Training began with the careful copying of letterforms from models, sometimes using wax tablets before transitioning to parchment. The process emphasized repetition and precision, with scribes working under the supervision of a master. 

This standardization of writing was popular from the 12th to 15th centuries especially, and ensured efficiency and legibility. Special Collections has a variety of medieval manuscripts to examine, but here are two particularly fine examples of Books of Hours created in France in the early 15th century that demonstrate the uniformity of Gothic writing. Books of Hours were prayer books designed for laypeople, and included prayers, psalms, and hymns for at-home devotion. 

Book of Hours (Use of Sarum), c 1500, MS 43, University of Edinburgh (left). Book of Hours (Use of Utrecht), 15th century, MS 46, University of Edinburgh (right).

MS 43 (left) starts with a perpetual calendar, indicating saints days and other holy days. The days are of the week are marked by dominical letters, or Sunday letters (A-G), and indicate corresponding days and dates in the ecclesiastical calendar. In Books of Hours, there could be significant variation between copies based on familial or regional interest in certain saints.

This page of MS 46 (right) shows how the prayers themselves were laid out for reading. Many of the prayers are devoted to powerful intercessors, such as the Virgin Mary and saints, and may include imagery related to that saint’s life.  

In both manuscripts, you can see the faint lines guiding the writing to ensure uniformity and even spacing. Though the adornments surrounding the words are unique, the lettering itself is very uniform, and the script very similar between the two. This is evidence of the aforementioned training that medieval scribes would have gone through to ensure uniformity.  

It’s also worth noting that these are extremely fine examples, created by masters of the craft. Although it is possible they were monastic productions, most Books of Hours were created by professional artisans in towns who would have been paid for their work, or given patronage. The owners of Books of Hours are largely associated with those of high social status.  

Early Modern Calligraphy and Handwriting Manuals 

The middle of the 16th century ushered in a change to handwriting techniques and an excitement about new kinds of scripts. The Renaissance ushered a move away from Gothic scripts, and both Italian and Secretary scripts entered the mainstream. Calligraphers sought to invent new grand ways to present the alphabet, especially in competition with print, which will be discussed more later. Thus the popularity of handwriting manuals emerged as well—instruction books with different font examples for students of calligraphy to imitate and practice, and flourish with their own ideas. 

Esther Inglis, one of Scotland’s most accomplished and skilled early modern calligraphers, is one such student of handwriting manuals. One of her early manuscripts shows her practicing different calligraphy fonts, with increasing theatricality. 

Esther Inglis, “Livret traittant de la grandeur de Dieu et de la cognoissance qu’on peut avoir de luy par ses oeuvres”, 1592, La.III.440, University of Edinburgh.

Some of these styles be traced to Jean de Beauchesne’s “A Booke Containing Divers Sorts of Handes”, a French handwriting manual published in London that Inglis must have had access to. In this way, Beauchesne was one of Inglis’ main teachers in the craft, without ever having to personally instruct her. 

Though the University only has a facsimile of Beauchesne’s manual, there are other examples of handwriting manuals from Britain to explore. Let’s compare David Spence’s “The Penman’s Treasure” (1689) and Thomas Watson’s “Copy Book: Enriched with Great Variety of the most Usefull & Modish Hands” (printed 1707). Both of these handwriting manuals were created in Britain (Scotland and England, respectively) within decades of each other, and they have many thematic similarities.  

David Spence, The Penman’s Treasure, 1689. LA.III.541, University of Edinburgh.

Thomas Watson, A Copy Book: Enriched with Great Variety of the Most Useful and Modish Hands, 1707. RB.F.779, University of Edinburgh.

One thing that separates them is that “The Penman’s Treasure” is hand-written, while “Copy Book” is printed. David Spence takes the reader through a series of scripts via verses that are mostly religious in nature, though some are fun rhyming schemes. About half of the pages also include the alphabet in uppercase and lowercase letters of the script he used on that page. There are flourishes decorating every page, with spiraled figures, called pennetrekken, adorning them. Spence clearly indicates the purpose of the book as a learning tool with the following verse:  

Learne first the Alphabet of Letters which are small, 

And then proceed, and get the Letters Capitall”

David Spence, The Penman’s Treasure, 1689. LA.III.541, University of Edinburgh.

Thomas Watson is explicit about the educational purpose of his copybook. Unlike handwritten exemplars, this book was printed, meaning Watson first wrote out the calligraphy before passing it to an engraver, who traced the work onto a sheet for mass reproduction. The title page identifies Watson as a teacher at a writing school, suggesting the book was likely intended for his students. On the final page, he reinforces his purpose with a witty epigram: 

We need not here set Owles and Apes,

Nor end our Book with rightfull Shapes,

Only to play an after Game.

Perhaps some may by viewing these, 

Turn back to what is past, and please

To try if they can do the same.”

Thomas Watson, A Copy Book: Enriched with Great Variety of the Most Useful and Modish Hands, 1707. RB.F.779, University of Edinburgh.

This poem encapsulates the fundamental goal of handwriting manuals—not only to teach writing skills in the present but also to preserve an art form that was becoming less common. As print gained popularity, handwriting faced a decline, yet works like Watson’s reflect a concerted effort to ensure its survival. 

David Spence, The Penman’s Treasure, 1689. LA.III.541, University of Edinburgh (left).Thomas Watson, A Copy Book: Enriched with Great Variety of the Most Useful and Modish Hands, 1707. RB.F.779, University of Edinburgh (right).

In Competition with Print  

The emergence of print in Western Europe in the 15th century following Gutenberg’s invention of the moveable printing press revolutionized the production of printed material, making it more efficient and more affordable. Although this technological advancement provided speed and uniformity, it could not replicate the artistry and individuality of hand-drawn letters.  

Here is an example of a printed Book of Hours from 1534, compared to the earlier illuminated ones. This version would have taken a fraction of the time to produce, and retained the uniformity favored by Gothic lettering. It even includes the perpetual calendar marked with dominical letters. Although this method limited some of the artistry of the decoration, elaborate borders and printed pictures were still included in these manuscripts. Mass production also made Books of Hours more accessible to the masses, since they took less time to produce, making them cheaper.

Hore beatissime Virginis Marie ad legitimum Sarisburiensis ecclesie ritum, Paris, 1534. MH.193, University of Edinburgh.

Calligraphers working after the rise and spread of print technologies adapted by refining their craft, focusing on decorative aspects and personal expression. This explains the rise in curious scripts like the one’s explored by Esther Inglis—calligraphers wanted to make something printers could not easily replicate.  

Calligraphers also attempted to emulate and perfect the mechanical precision of printed fonts. One way that calligraphers could show off, so to speak, was by creating miniature texts that a printing press would not have been able to create, while emulating the font of a printer. This 17th century miniature prayer book in Latin shows just how closely this print could be imitated.  

Miniature prayerbook in Latin, 17th century. Coll-1314, University of Edinburgh.

Informal Writing

While formal calligraphy and handwriting manuals aimed to perfect script, informal writing in the early modern period served a variety of practical and personal purposes. Beyond professional scribes and calligraphers, individuals used handwriting for everyday tasks, learning exercises, and personal expression. Special Collections has many manuscripts of non-professional writing that demonstrate the importance of even casual handwriting.  

This is a commonplace book from the 17th century contains notes on a variety of subjects, ranging from transcribed songs and theatrical performances to miscellaneous notes on astrology. Commonplace books were used by the literate to write down their thoughts or take notes on what they were seeing. At the beginning of this book, we can see that the first author first began practicing writing down their alphabet. It also includes some notes on grammar and spelling.  

Commonplace book written in several hands, 17th century. MS Comm 2, University of Edinburgh.

Even with the option of printing, handwriting a manuscript was an expression of care and consideration—a labor of love, if you will. This copy of “The staggering state of the Scottish statesmen” is handwritten in neat, though not professional script. The book was published in print in 1754, after the author’s lifetime, but the author hand-wrote several copies “[as a] private solace to himself and a few friends for whom manuscript copies were made”.  

Sir John Scott of Scotstarvit, The Staggering State of the Scottish Statesmen, 17th century. Coll-1157, University of Edinburgh.

Later Preservation & Revival of Calligraphy 

Then, the nineteenth century saw a renewal of interest in calligraphy, driven by a growing appreciation of historical scripts and artistic skill. As industrialization made mass printing possible, handwriting fell further into disuse, and in reaction, scholars, artists, and collectors sought to preserve earlier handwriting traditions. This revival was not only about nostalgia, but also about studying and compiling past examples of scripts to ensure they were not lost.  

One example of this in Special Collections is “Specimens of calligraphic writing, 1570-1624″, a later compilation of early modern calligraphic examples. The examples, which we come from multiple authors and different texts from the later sixteenth century, showcase a later attempt to group and preserve these examples. “Later” used here because the exact date of compilation is unknown.  

Specimens of calligraphic styles of writing, 1570-1624 (approximate), LA.iii.522, University of Edinburgh.

This sometimes led to a kind of “scrapbooking” of medieval and early modern writing. Whole pages or specific drawings were cut out of manuscripts to be pasted into a compilation of one’s favorite pieces. As a result, some of the manuscripts we have now are incomplete. For example, this manuscript would have had colored drawings, as many of Inglis’ manuscripts did, but they have been specifically cut out.  On the right, you can see an example of a drawing that would have been at the top of each page. 

Esther Inglis, “Les Quatrains du Sieur de Pybrac”, 1607. La.III.439, University of Edinburgh.

Not only was there an attempt to preserve these specimens of writing, but interest in the practice was revised, and many tried to replicate earlier scripts in their own hands. The results of this are 19th-century texts that look like they could have been written in the medieval or early modern periods, using scripts that had fallen out of popularity for centuries.  

Louisa Mary Freeman, A Selection from the Collects, c. 1880. MS.Add.5, University of Edinburgh.

Commonplace book, 19th century. DN.6.10, University of Edinburgh.

What remains of handwriting? 

Handwriting has always been more than a tool for communication. It is both a discipline and an art form. As with every technological shift in history, from the rise of print to the mechanization of writing, we face a new question: what role does handwriting play in the digital age?  

While the decline of everyday handwriting may seem inevitable, the persistence of calligraphy as a practiced art suggests that we still value the human touch in written form. The same impulse that led 19th-century scholars to preserve early modern scripts or inspired individuals to handwrite books when print was an option can still be seen today in the renewed interest in calligraphy, bullet journaling, and artistic lettering. 

But beyond aesthetics, what does it mean for us to lose the habit of writing by hand? Does the convenience of digital text come at the cost of something intangible? A personal connection to writing, a slower, more deliberate engagement with words? As we move further into an era dominated by screens, perhaps the history of handwriting offers us not just a story of change but a challenge: to consider what is worth preserving and why. 

Further Reading: