Round it is, so “Codex Rotundus” they called it.
Beyond that obviousness, everything that defines the medieval codex preserved as a historical treasure in the library of the Hildesheim Cathedral, in Lower Saxony, is anything but conventional. And not because of its content or illustrations, even though these are authentic gems. What is truly fascinating is its edition, which has sometimes earned it the well-deserved title of “first pocket book of history”.
Wood —or parchment, as the case may be— has to be.
The Codex Rotundus is the son of aristocratic caprice and fifteenth-century Flemish craftsmanship. Even today —accustomed to all kinds of fancy things in the publishing industry— it is impossible to (ad)look at it without letting out a whistle of astonishment. Its figures serve as a cover letter: 266 pages almost perfectly circular sheets of parchment handwritten and bound together into a block three centimeters high with a diameter of just three centimeters.
The “Codex Rotundus” is a 266 page book of hours in Latin and French. The manuscript is unique in shape and size: the pages are cut roughly circularly. The body of the book must be held together by 3 clasps
@ Hildesheim Cathedral Library, Germany pic.twitter.com/dsHyFB3vbx— Araceli Rego (@AraceliRego) February 2, 2023
Seen from the outside and with the lids closed, the Rotundus looks like a kind of purse. A very peculiar one, true. Its cover is made of red leather and incorporates golden details and three metal clasps in the shape of Gothic letters. That cover outside. If we open it and review its content, we will see that it is a book of hours, a devotional that incorporates several full-page thumbnails. The texts of him are written both in Latin and French.
The content gives us a clue as to what it was for. The books of hours were used for prayer and combined prayers and psalms with more or less virtuous decorations. They became so popular during the Middle Ages that if you come across an illuminated manuscript today it is most likely of this type.
Codex Rotundus includes for example three miniatures and 30 initials, all related to scenes from the Old Testament and the life of Jesus or the saints. And all of them, of course, adapted just like the letters to their design and size.
Having clarified what it was for and what it is like, the next big question is whose it was. Who wanted to incorporate a XXXS format editorial jewel into their library?
From the initials of the three closures, researchers believe the answer is Adolf of Cleves, Lord of Ravenstein (1425-1492), an aristocrat related to Philip the Good. This is not the only clue left by its authors: the initial “D” on one of its pages contains a coat of arms with elements that coincide with that of Adolfo himself, marks that can still be seen today despite the fact that everything indicates that one of its later owners tried to erase them.
Adolfo de Cleves was linked to the Burgundian court, which helps to better understand the work and its origins. “Most likely, the codex was developed in connection with the Burgundian court at the end of the 15th century, which was the center of contemporary art and culture,” they explain from the Dombibliothek Hildesheim. Others refine more and point out that it would have been created around 1480 in a workshop in Bruges.
As for who or who had the ability to elaborate it, in Dbibliofilia they point out that its authorship has been buried under the anonymitybut it is possible to frame it in the Flemish school and its creator would have worked with the Dresden masters, from whom he would have learned different techniques and motifs.
His talent remains…
…and an idea of what it would be like a pocket book —deluxeYes, in the fifteenth century.
Cover image: Dombibliothek-Hildesheim