Abstract
The history of the book and of print culture more widely construed has been one of the most dynamic areas of early modern scholarship over the past few decades. It is always important to remember, however, that manuscript culture did not lose its significance as soon as the presses started rolling. This was true in the arenas of literature and academia but perhaps most striking in the realm of officialdom, both ecclesiastical and secular. Notaries, for example, sustained their lofty position in the cultural hierarchy and they are the subject of Laurie Nussdorfer’s impressive book.
This study focuses on the city of Rome and covers a long period: from the late medieval (pre-print) era to the early eighteenth century. Notaries were valued. Their efforts granted legitimacy and longevity to a wide variety of judicial, commercial and political transactions and proceedings in both the private and public spheres (assuming that we are allowed to make this distinction). On the face of things notarial documents can seem very straightforward from a hermeneutic perspective but, as Nussdorfer argues, they actually contain ‘something that demands explanation rather than something that goes without saying’ (p. 3). They warrant close reading because they tell us a great deal about power relationships and the mechanisms of law, politics and economics. Just as importantly, there is great value in studying how the notarial profession was organized and regulated (both internally and by external authorities).
These are the two main tasks of Nussdorfer’s book, and Rome, which was always home to more than its share of notaries, is an excellent place to locate a case study. A series of crucial issues are explored. Nussdorfer provides context by analysing medieval theorizing (and there was a lot of it) about the role of notaries: what they were supposed to be doing, the traditions they were intended to uphold, and the gaffes they were expected to avoid. To be a notary was to carry the double burden of authority and responsibility. Next, the author traces how the laws pertaining to notaries developed in Rome between 1363 and 1612 and how a commitment to preserving notarial documents in archives emerged.
Perhaps the most compelling parts of Nussdorfer’s study are those in which she takes us deep inside the world of the early modern notaries. How were they trained? How did they decide who to employ? How did they attract (and keep) clients? What did their households and offices (usually one and the same thing) operate?
The one sure sign that notaries lost none of their significance in early modern Europe is that the powers that be always took the time to legislate and monitor the boundaries and duties of notarial activity. The said powers also indulged in a fair amount of surveillance. This was presumably pesky for the notaries but it is a gift to the historian. In the early eighteenth century, for example, Clement XI spent lots of time investigating notarial offices and archives and Nussdorfer takes full advantage of the resulting data to provide a fascinating historical snapshot.
With any luck, this book will encourage other scholars to follow her lead. The archival resources, across many parts of Europe, are rich, and in many cases untapped, or at the very least underutilized. Investigating them will surely bolster the argument that notaries are far more interesting than most of us imagined. They ‘straddled the boundary between personal gain and public duty’ (p. 74) and they were the key players in the history of documents for many centuries. Doctoral candidates should be queuing up to study them. In the meantime, Nussdorfer’s trail-blazing book deserves a place on the shelves of every academic library.