Books Fatal to Their Authors

Twenty-first century writers have it far, far too easy.

They might think that the critics for the New York Review of Books are difficult to please, but the jibes and barbs of critics are nothing compared to what writers faced in the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when publishing a new work often meant taking your life into your own hands. Writers who challenged the status quo faced fates far worse, such as torture, burning, boiling, having various bits hacked off or, in the case of seditious libel, being subjected to a red hot branded "SL" on the cheek--surely a far cry from the cozy world of academia where the worst that could happen is a rejection letter from the Journal Science or a C-minus on your short story for your writer's workshop about your dysfunctional family. Writing used to be serious business, and publishing was not for the faint of heart.


Books Fatal to Their Authors (1895) by P. H. Ditchfield

In modern times, pitching a book that catalogs the demise of dozens of authors and publishers who ran afoul of Papal and civil authorities and were chased, hounded and ultimately put to death for their efforts might be a tough sell for the big publishers, but Ditchfield does a good job of making his subject matter engaging and even entertaining. This is essentially a book of anecdotes that tell of the trials of rogue theologians, historians, political and social critics, fanatics, astrologers, poets, dramatists and publishers. However, this anecdotal approach to the material can be a little repetitive, so this is a book that one might read a little at a time. All in all, this is a merry, dry witted but scholarly romp through lives ruined by censorship.

Consider Polish theologian Cazimir Lisznski, whose claim that "God is not the creator of man, but man is the creator of God" got him executed by order of the Bishop of Potsdam in 1689 and whose ashes were shot out of a cannon. Or Galileo, whose confirmation of Copernicus' theory that the earth revolves around the sun earned him a visit from the Spanish Inquisition--a body whose henchmen were too stupid to even understand his work ("Are these then my judges?" he asked). Or Italian satirist Trajan Boccalini, whose Pietra del paragone politico (1615), a withering criticism of Spanish misrule in Italy, bought him a visit from four big guys who held him down on a couch and beat him to death with sand bags.

Riveting stuff, indeed. Ditchfield isn't above expressing his own opinions or displaying a few sparks of wit, either. "Whether to burn a man is the surest way to convert him," he writes, "is a question open to argument. " The infamous Bastille is referred to as a proven  "reformatory for audacious writers". His off-the-cuff critiques of religious works and theological tracts reveal his bias as a minister in the Church of England, proclaiming some authors and works as ridiculous (in all fairness, some of them were ridiculous), but strongly arguing against censorship. He was a man of his time.

Ditchfield presents authors and works both well known and extremely obscure, preferring to cite the original titles in Latin, French and Italian and sometimes quoting these works at length in their original language, but readers can get through the rough spots in context easily enough. And it's okay to skip longish passages of Latin, French and Italian without feeling as though you're cheating. Good bathroom reading.

Download Books Fatal to Their Authors from Project Gutenberg