The Textus Roffensis: a medieval manuscript to rival Magna Carta

It is the opening text of a ‘legal encyclopaedia’ of more than three dozen English laws (ranging from 600–1100) that constitute the bulk of the first part of the Textus Roffensis.

Æthelberht’s Code offers us insight into the system of compensation that probably prevailed in Kent at the start of the 7th century. Its opening words, ‘Godes feoh & ciricean XII gylde’ set out the level of restitution to be made by one who stole from ‘God’s property and the Church’s’, namely ‘a twelve-fold compensation’.

The law also includes an extensive list of payments to be made for acts of violence, including 50 shillings for gouging out an eye and six shillings for stabbing a man through his genitals.

This decree, known as Peace of Edward and Guthrum, was fabricated as an addition to the genuine Treaty of Alfred and Guthrum [an agreement between Alfred the Great of Wessex and Guthrum, the Viking ruler of East Anglia, following Alfred's victory at Edington, which established a boundary between their kingdoms and regulated relations between the English and Danish subjects of the two kings in criminal matters].

Wulfstan’s rationale was likely the preservation of the security of the church – and his own bishopric – in the Danelaw, the area of England in which Danish law prevailed. The law focuses on issues that directly affected the church, including church sanctuary, payments of tithes, and sorcery.

This law, written in English, introduced to the English the Norman idea of settling disputes by combat. Fascinatingly, if an accused Englishman refused to defend himself though either trial by combat or oath swearing, then he had the further option of ordeal by iron: carrying a piece of red-hot iron in order to ascertain innocence (if innocent, he would heal quickly from the burns).

Should the Englishman be the accuser, but he dared not summon the Frenchman to combat, then the latter could defend himself by a comprehensive oath.

“May he be cursed... in sh***ing”. This is how Laurence Sterne, in his 18th-century novel Tristram Shandy, translated maledictus cacando, the surprisingly irreverent words that form part of a malediction against criminals. Sterne also supplied ‘pi**ing’ for mingendo, though that is arguably a somewhat amplified rendering of the Latin.

Known officially as Excommunicatio VIII, and thought to originate from either the 10th or 11th centuries, it is an appeal for supernatural intervention against one expelled from the church. The comprehensive malediction leaves us in no doubt of the excommunicate’s status, cursing all activities of his life, his death, and all body parts – from the hairs of his head right down to his toenails!

The charter, published on 5 August 1100, announces to the shires that Henry was king of “the realm of England”, and that he would restore to the people “the law of King Edward (the Confessor)” – a profoundly symbolic gesture towards his English subjects for whom he claimed to have great love.

The opening grant of freedom to God’s Church, that Henry would neither sell nor “lease at farm” its lands, influenced the first grant of liberty coerced out of King John and written down in the Magna Carta 115 years later.

A beautiful, historiated initial depicting Christ in front of Rochester Priory offering his blessing while also trampling a beast (signifying Satan) marks the opening of a cartulary, the second part of the Textus Roffensis.

As the only major decoration in the manuscript, it visually reinforces the charter’s claim that King Æthelberht granted lands for the foundation of the Church of Saint Andrew at Rochester in 604.

Though the charter is, to put it politely, retrospective, it nevertheless represents what was in essence factual, since the historian Bede states explicitly that Æthelberht did indeed grant land and privileges in establishing the church at Rochester.

Though written largely in Latin, the land boundaries themselves are described in Old English. If truly representing Æthelberht’s original grant, these may be the oldest examples of English street names.

Though the facts are not completely clear, it appears that the Textus Roffensis was accidently submerged in either the Thames or the Medway while being transported to or from London, sometime between 1708 and 1718.

The book shows signs of water damage on each of its folios. Despite this, the manuscript is in remarkably good condition. It may well be that its tight clasps and robust binding prevented more significant damage.

Measuring approximately 225mm by 155mm, the book’s importance is not reflected in its small size. It is clear that its vellum pages have been trimmed, though it is not possible to say exactly by how much. Most likely this took place when the decision was made, probably in the 14th century, to bind together what were originally two separate manuscripts: the ‘legal encyclopaedia’ and the cartulary.

Though both parts are predominantly the work of the same scribe, we cannot be sure of the rationale behind forming a single volume.

Sandwiched between a law on betrothal and a law on bequeathing property is this rather odd formula for dealing with theft of livestock and household goods. The charm – a mix of Latin and English – invokes the Cross of Christ, Abraham and Job.

Instructions for singing the charm, written in English, are also provided, and include directions to sing upon the bridle, or fetters, of a stolen horse; and, in the case of other livestock, to sing upon and thrice drip candle wax over the animal’s hoof-tracks.

For the recovery of household goods, one had to sing to the four sides and the middle of the house.

There are four royal genealogies in the first part of the Textus Roffensis, two of which trace the purported ancestry of the West Saxon kings back to Woden and ‘the first man Adam’, and, in one of these, to ‘the Father, who is Christ’.

Bizarrely, both of these also highlight a certain Scef (or Scyf), informing the reader that he was ‘born on the ark’ – according to one of them, to Noah himself! It would seem, then, that Anglo-Saxon genealogists were keen to create a foundation myth that demonstrated that the English people had a very special ancestry.

Dr Chris Monk was a consultant for Rochester Cathedral’s ‘Hidden Treasures, Fresh Expression’ project, funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund and various other organisations. He has lectured on medieval literature and art at the University of Manchester, and is now a freelance writer