Transcribing handwritten historic documents is a sometimes fun and sometimes frustrating part of being an Archivist. #EYAHandwriting lets us show you the good, the bad, and the ugly from within the OED archives.
A main contender for worst handwriting in OED history has to be Frederick Furnivall, one of the original founders of the project. His writing seems to reflect his personality – energetic, busy, care-free. As a supporter of the project, he was invaluable, drumming up interest, setting up societies, recruiting personnel (sometimes a little too enthusiastically) but as an editor, he lacked efficiency – too excitable for the methodical nature of writing entry after entry. The OED archives are full of his letters, often painstaking to decipher, and there are copious dictionary slips in his hand, frequently accompanied by cuttings from local newspapers.
This contrasts with the practised hand of James Murray, who took over as Editor after Furnivall’s early reign. During the four decades of Murray’s Editorship, he wrote countless letters – according to his granddaughter and biographer, K. M. Elisabeth Murray, it could be as many as 30-40 a day, plus any copies he wished to keep. Despite the volume, Murray’s handwriting is more meticulous and far easier to read, perhaps a reflection of his disciplined nature.
Another example of beautiful handwriting in the archives is that of J. R. R. Tolkien, assistant on the OED following the First World War and, later, Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford University and, of course, author of novels including The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It’s hard not to see his writing as having a certain kind of runic quality although that characterisation is perhaps influenced by our awareness of the content and themes of his work.
Previous blog posts have looked at the contribution of Dr. William Minor, possessor of possibly the tiniest handwriting in the OED archives. His mind might have been infamously febrile yet his writing is particularly contained and precise, suggesting someone looking for order amongst chaos.
One of the most curious examples of OED handwriting belongs to Henry Hucks Gibbs, 1st Baron Aldenham, banker, businessman, and politician. An advocate of the Dictionary from its earliest years, Gibbs was a volunteer reader, proof-reader, and sub-editor. The interesting factor is that in 1864, some five years after his first involvement with the OED, he survived the loss of his right hand in a countryside shooting incident. He subsequently had to learn to write with his left hand. Early examples of his writing see the letters sloping to the right but post-1864 they slope to the left!
