[1] Mun. Acad., 58, 59; cf. Smith, Annals of U.C., 37-39.

[2] Commiss. Docts., Oxford, i., Statutes, p. 24.

[3] Lyte, 181.

[4] Paravicini, Ball. Coll., 169, 173.

[5] O. H. S. 5, Collect., i. 66.

[6] Hist. MSS., ix. 1, 46.

[7] O, H. S. 32, Collect., iii. 225; cf. Hist. MSS. 2nd Rep., App. 135a; Walcott, W. of Wykeham, 285.

To tell the story of each of these early college libraries with continuity is not to our purpose, and is perhaps not feasible. So many details are lacking. We do not know whether all the libraries, once started, were constantly maintained; but it is reasonable to assume they were, as records—a few only—of purchases and donations are preserved. Usually gifts were made only to the college in which the donor felt special interest, but sometimes generous men were more catholic. Four colleges—University, Balliol, Merton, and Oriel—benefited under Bishop Stephen Gravesend's will (1336); six—University, Balliol, Merton, Exeter, Oriel, and Queen's—under the will of Simon de Bredon, astronomer and sometime Proctor of the University (1368): in both cases the testators distributed their gifts among all the secular colleges in existence at the time.[1] Dr. Thomas Gascoigne gave many books to Balliol, Oriel, Durham, and Lincoln Colleges (1432)[2] William Reed, Bishop of Chichester, also was the friend of more than one society, for New College, as we have seen, got 63 volumes from him, Exeter some others, and Merton 99.[3] Roger Whelpdale (d. 1423) bequeathed books to Balliol and Queen's Colleges. Henry VI gave 23 manuscripts to All Souls College (1440). Robert Twaytes gave books to Balliol in 1451: his example was followed by George Nevil, Bishop of Exeter and afterwards Archbishop of York (1455, 1475), Dr. Bole (1478), and John Waltham (1492). An old Fellow showed his gratitude to University College by bestowing 68 books, mostly Scriptural commentaries, on its library (1473). Some of the gifts were smaller.[4] A chancellor of the church of York bequeathed a single volume to Merton. Bishop Skirlaw—a good friend of the college in other ways—gave 6 books to University in 1404: they were to be chained in the library and never lent. Such gifts were received as gratefully as the larger donations; indeed, it was esteemed a feather in the cap of the Master that while he held office Skirlaw's books were received. Never at any time were books more highly appreciated than in Oxford of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Sometimes gifts took the form of money for a curious purpose. For example, Robert Hesyl, a country rector, bequeathed the sum of 6s. 8d. "ad intitulandum nomina librorum in libraria collegii Lincoln: contentorum, supra dorsa eorum cooperienda cornu et clavis."[5] But the colleges did not depend wholly on gifts, for records are preserved of purchases for Queen's College in 1366-67;[6] All Souls College between 1449 and 1460; for Magdalen College between 1481 and 1539; for Merton College between 1322 and 1379; and for New College between 1462 and 1481.

[1] Hist. MSS. 8th Rep., i. 46; Reg. Abp. Whittlesey, fo. 122, cited by Lyte,

[2] Rogers, Agric. and Prices, iv. 599-600.

[3] O. H. S. 32, Collect., 223, 214-15.

[4] See the gifts to Exeter College, O. H. S. 27, Boase, passim.

[5] Mun. Acad., ii. 706.

[6] Hist. MSS. 2nd Rep., 140a.

The growth of the libraries made the provision of special bookrooms a necessity. A library on the ground floor of University College is referred to in the Bursar's Roll (1391). At Merton the books were originally kept in a chest under three locks. A room was set apart quite early: books were chained up in it in 1284. In 1354 a carpenter was paid for fittings and "deskis." Bishop Reed of Chichester erected a library building in 1377-79; Wyllyot and John Wendover contributed towards the cost, which amounted to L 462. With the exception of the room thrown into the south library at its eastern end, of two large dormers, and of the glass in the west room, the original structure has been altered very little, and it is therefore one of the best examples of a medieval library in this country. When the old library of Exeter College was first used we do not know: it was possibly one of the tenements originally given to the college by Peter de Skelton and partly repaired by the founder. Money was disbursed for thatching it in 1375.[1] Nearly ten years later a new library was put up. Bishop Brantingham and John More, rector of St. Petrock's, Exeter, contributed handsomely towards the cost; another Bishop of Exeter, Edmund Stafford,—in whose time the name of the house was changed from Stapledon Hall to Exeter College,— enlarged the building in 1404; and Bishops Grandisson, Brantingham, Stafford, and Lacy gave books.[2] In the library room some of the books were chained to desks, and some were kept in chests.[3] All this points to a flourishing library at Exeter; although, on occasions when their yearly expenses were heavier than usual, the Fellows were obliged to pawn books to one of the loan chests of the University, or even to their barber.[4]

[1] Hist. MSS. App. 2nd Rep., 129; O. H. S. 27, Boase, xlvii.

[2] Brantingham gave L 20 towards the building; More, L 10. Account of building expenses, amounting to L 57, 13s. 5 1/2 d., is given in O. H. S., 27, Boase, 345, see p. xiii.

[3] O. H. S., 27, Boase, xlviii. In 1392 "iiiis pro ligacione septem librorum et Id pro cervisia in eisdem ligatoribus, VId erario pro labore suo circa eosdem libros, et IId Johanni Lokyer pro impositione eorundem librorum in descis."

[4] Ibid., xlviii.

The monastic college of Durham enjoyed a "fayre library, well-decked and well flowred withe a timber Flowre over it," built in 1417 and fitted in 1431.[1] Another college belonging to the monks of Christ Church, Canterbury, also had a library, which had been replenished with books from the mother-house.[2] In 1431 a library building was begun at Balliol College by Mr. Thomas Chace, after he had resigned the office of Master. Bishop William Grey, besides enriching his college with manuscripts, also completed the home for them (c. 1477), on a window of which are still to be read his name and the name of Robert Abdy, the Master.

"His Deus adjecit; Deus his det gaudia celi, Abdy perfecit opus hoc Gray presul et Ely."[3]

[1] The building, which is still standing as a part of Trinity College, cost L 42; fittings, L 6, 165. 8d. Blakiston, Trin. Coll., 26.

[2] James, xlvii.

[3] Cf. Willis, Arch. Hist. Camb., ii. 410.

In another window, on the north side, was inscribed—

"Conditor ecce novi structus hujus fuit Abdy. Praesul et huic Oedi Gray libros contulit Ely."

The first library of Oriel College, on the east side of the quadrangle, was not erected until about 1444; before that the books seem to have been kept in chests, although the collection was large for the time.[1] As early as 1388-89 payments were made for making desks for the library of Queen's College.[2] In the case of New, Lincoln, All Souls, and Magdalen Colleges, library rooms were included when the college buildings were first erected. Magdalen's library was copied from All Souls: the windows in it were "to be as good as or better than" those in the earlier foundation.

[1] Willis, iii. 410.

[2] Hist. MSS. 2nd Rep., 141a.



Section III

Towards the end of the fifteenth century the beginning of the sad end of all this good work may be traced. Some part of the collections disappeared gradually. In 1458 books were chained at Exeter College, because some of them had been taken away. When volumes became damaged and worn out, they were not replaced by others. Some were pledged, and although every effort was made to redeem them, as at Exeter College in 1466, 1470, 1472 and 1473, yet it seems certain many were permanently alienated. Others were perhaps sold, or given away, as John Phylypp gave away two Exeter College manuscripts in 1468.[1] The University library was in similar case. When Erasmus saw the scanty remains of this collection he could have wept. "Before it had continued eighty years in its flourishing state," writes Wood of the library, "[it] was rifled of its precious treasure! by unreasonable persons. That several scholars would,, upon small pledges given in, borrow books . . . that were never restored. Polydore Virgil . . . borrowed many after such a way; but at length being denied, did upon petition made to the king obtain his license for the taking out of any MS. for his use (in order, I suppose, for the collecting materials for his English History or Chronicle of England), which being imitated by others, the library thereby suffered very great loss." Matters became still worse. Owing to the threatened suppression of the religious houses, the number of students at Oxford decreased enormously. In 1535, 108 men graduated, in the next year only 44 did so; until the end of Henry VIII's reign the average number graduating was 57, and in Edward's reign the average was 33.[2] Naturally, therefore, some laxity crept into the administration of the University and the colleges. Active enemies of our literary treasures were not behindhand, In 1535 Dr. Layton, visitor of monasteries, descended upon Oxford. "We have sett Dunce [Duns Scotus] in Bocardo, and have utterly banisshede hym Oxforde for ever, with all his blinde glosses, and is nowe made a comon servant to evere man, faste nailede up upon posses in all comon howses of easment: id quod oculis meis vidi. And the seconde tyme we came to New Colege, affter we trade declarede your injunctions, we fownde all the gret quadrant court full of the leiffes of Dunce, the wynde blowyng them into evere corner. And ther we fownde one Mr. Grenefelde, a gentilman of Bukynghamshire, getheryng up part of the saide bowke leiffes (as he saide) therwith to make hym sewelles or blawnsherres to kepe the dere within the woode, therby to have the better cry with his howndes."[3] A commission assembled at Oxford in 1550, and met many times at St. Mary's Church. No documentary evidence of their treatment of libraries remains, but it was certainly most drastic. Any illuminated manuscript, or even a mathematical treatise illustrated with diagrams, was deemed unfit to survive, and was thrown out for sale or destruction. Some of the college libraries did not suffer severely. Most of Grey's books survived in Balliol, although the miniatures were cut out. Queen's, All Souls, and Merton came through the ordeal nearly unscathed. But Lincoln lost the books given by Gascoigne and the Italian importations of Flemming; Exeter College was purged. The University library itself was entirely dispersed. One of the commissioners, "by name Richard Coxe, Dean of Christ Church, shewed himself so zealous in purging this place of its rarities . . . that . . . savoured of superstition, that he left not one of those goodly MSS. given by the before mentioned benefactors. Of all which there were none restored in Q. Mary's reign, when then an inquisition was made after them, but only one of the parts of Valerius Maximus, illustrated with the Commentaries of Dionysius de Burgo, an Augustine Fryer, and with the Tables of John Whethamsteed, Abbat of St. Alban's. That some of the books so taken out by the Reformers were burnt, some sold away for Robin Hood's pennyworths,[4] either to Booksellers, or to Glovers, to press their gloves, or Taylors to make measures, or to bookbinders to cover books bound by them, and some also kept by the Reformers for their own use. That the said library being thus deprived of its furniture was employed, as the schools were, for infamous uses. That in laying waste in that manner, and not in a possibility (as the academians thought) of restoring it to its former estate, they ordered certain persons in a Convocation (Reg. 1. fol. 157a held Jan. 25, 1555-56 to sell the benches and desks "herein; so that being strips stark naked (as I may say) continued so till Bodley restored it."[5] The only cheerful reference to this period is that by Wood, who tells us some friendly people bought in a number of the manuscripts, and ultimately handed them over to the University after the library's restoration.[6] But of all the books given by the Duke of Gloucester only three are now in the Bodleian, and only three others in Corpus Christi, Oriel, and Magdalen. The British Museum possesses nine; Cambridge one; private collectors two. Six are in France: two Latin—both Oxford books—and three French manuscripts in the Bibliotheque Nationale, and one manuscript at the Bibliotheque Ste. Genevieve. The Ste. Genevieve book[7] is a magnificent Livy, once belonging to the famous Louvre Library. It bears the inscription: "Cest livre est a moy Homfrey, duc de Gloucestre, du don mon tres chier cousin le conte de Warewic."[8]

[1] O. H. S. 27, Boase; O. H. S. 5, Collect., 62. At C. C, Christ Church, and St. John's Colleges the least useful books could be sold if the libraries became too large.—Oxford Stat.

[2] Camb. Lit., iii. 50.

[3] Cam. Soc., xxvi. 71.

[4] I.e. for practically nothing, a mere song.

[5] Wood (Gulch), 918-19.

[6] With Bodley's noble work this book has no concern. The story has been told briefly in Mr. Nicholson's Pietas Oxoniensis, and with more detail in Dr. Macray's Annals of the Bodleian.

[7] MS. francais, I. I.

[8] Delisle, Le Cabinet des MSS., i. 152.



CHAPTER VII. ACADEMIC LIBRARIES: CAMBRIDGE

Section I

AS the libraries of Cambridge were mostly of later foundation than those at Oxford, and as the collections were of the same character, it is less necessary to describe them in detail, especially after having dealt fully with the collections of the sister university. Cambridge University does not seem to have owned books in common until the first quarter of the fifteenth century. Before that, in 1384, the books intended for use in the University were submitted to the Chancellor and Doctors, so that any containing heretical and objectionable opinions could be weeded out and burnt. In 1408-9 it was ordered that books suspected to contain Lollard doctrines should be examined by the authorities of both Universities; if approved by them and by the Archbishop of Canterbury, they could be delivered to the stationers for copying, but not before. And in 1480 keepers of chests were forbidden to receive as a pledge any book written on paper.[1] Certain regulations were also made with regard to the status of stationers and others engaged in book-making in the town. But there seems to have been no common library.

[1] Cooper, i. 128, 152, 224.

About the time when Gloucester made his first gift of books to Oxford University a public library was possibly "founded" by John Croucher, who gave a copy of Chaucer's translation of Boethius' De Consolatione philosophiae. Richard Holme, Warden of King's Hall, who died in 1424, gave sixteen volumes. At this time the collection amounted to seventy-six volumes. Robert Fitzhugh, Bishop of London, now left two books, a Textus moralis philosophiae and Codeton Super quatuor libros Sertentiarum (1435-6). By 1435 or 1440 it had increased to one hundred and twenty-two books: theology accounting for sixty-nine, natural and moral philosophy for seventeen, canon law for twenty-three, medicine for five, grammar for six, and logic and sophistry for one each. Besides Holme's books there were in this library eight books given by John Aylemer, six given by Thomas Paxton, ten by James Matissale, five each by John Preston, John Water, Robert Alne (1440),[1] and John Tesdale: other benefactors gave one or two or three.[2]

[1] Surtees Soc., xxx. 78-79.

[2] Bradshaw, 19-34; Willis, iii. 404.

In 1423 one John Herrys or Harris gave ten pounds for the library, possibly for a building, as books do not seem to have been bought with it.[1] A common library is mentioned in 1438.[2] In the same year a grant was made by the king of the manor of Ruyslip and a place called Northwood for a library. The first room was erected between this year and 1457. After 1454 many entries occur in the University accounts for the roof of the new chapel and the library, for the general repairs of the same buildings, for the chaining and binding of books, and for their custody during a fire in King's College in 1457.[3] A sketch of the Schools quadrangle drawn about 1459 shows this library, libraria nova, above the Canon Law schools, on the west side.[4] Between the completion of this library and 1470 the south side of the quadrangle was built, the school of civil law occupying the ground floor, and the Great Library or Common Library the first floor. The second extant catalogue of books (1473) relates to the books in this room: possibly the west room had been cleared for other purposes. Now the inventory proves the library to have been in possession of three hundred and thirty volumes, stored upon eight stalls or desks on the north side and upon nine stalls on the southern side, facing King's College Chapel.[5] But in a few years the buildings were extended and the collection augmented munificently by Thomas Rotherham or Scot, then Chancellor of the University and Bishop of Lincoln, afterwards Archbishop of York. Rotherham completed the building begun on the east side of the quadrangle by erecting the library which occupies the whole of the first floor (1470-75). In this libraria domini cancellarii his own books were stored. His generosity was recognised by the University in the fullest possible manner; special care was taken of his books, and his library came to be known as the private library, to which only a few privileged persons were admitted, while the great library remained in use as the public room.[6]

[1] Cooper, i. 170; Rotuli Parl., iv. 321.

[2] Willis, Arch. Hist. Camb., iii. 11.

[3] Ibid., iii. 12.

[4] Ibid., iii. 5.

[5] Bradshaw, 35-53; C.A.S Comm., ii. 258.

[6] Willis. iii. 25.

The learned Bishop Tunstall gave some Greek books to the library in 1529, just before he was translated to the see of Durham. Even then, however, the collection was on the down grade. Nine years later, owing to a decline in numbers at the University and a loss of revenue, some of the books, described as "useless," were sold.[1] Then again, in 1547, occurs a more significant notice. A Grace was passed recommending the conversion of the great or common library into a school for the Regius Professor of Divinity, because "in its present state it is no use to anybody."[2] Neglect and worse had laid this part of the library as waste as Dulce Humfrey's room at Oxford. Apparently then only the Chancellor's library remained. More "old" books were removed from the collection in 1572-3. In this same year a catalogue was drawn up. Only one hundred and seventy-seven volumes were left: "moste parse of all theis bookes be of velam and parchment, but very sore cut and mangled for the lymned letters and pictures."[3] Clearly sad havoc had been played with this library, which had started with so much promise.

[1] Mullinger, ii. 50.

[2] Willis, iii. 25.

[3] Ibid., iii. 25-26n.



Section II

The earliest collegiate libraries were Peterhouse, Pembroke Hall, Clare Hall, Trinity Hall, and Gonville. Peterhouse had the first library in Cambridge. Hugh of Balsham, Bishop of Ely, introduced into an Augustinian Hospital at Cambridge a number of scholars who were to live with the brethren. Before Hugh died the brethren and the scholars quarrelled, and the latter were removed to two hostels on the site of the present college (1281-84). He did not forget to provide his new foundation with books, among other properties. In the statutes of 1344 are stringent provisions for the care of books, which prove that the society had a library worthy of some thought. Clare College was founded by the University as University Hall (1326), then refounded twelve years later by Lady Elizabeth de Clare as Clare Hall. In 1355 she bequeathed a few books. Pembroke College, founded in 1346, received a gift of ten books from the first Master, William Styband. The statutes of Trinity Hall, which was founded by Bishop William Bateman in 1350, partly to repair the losses of scholarly clergy during the Black Death, also contain a special section relating to the college books. It was not drawn up in anticipation of the formation of a library, for the founder himself gave seventy volumes on civil and canon law and theology, besides fourteen books for the chapel; forty-eight, including seven chapel books, were reserved for the Bishop's own use during his life.[1] To Gonville College, founded as the Hall of the Annunciation in 1348, Archdeacon Stephen Scrope left a Catholicon in 1418[2] King's Hall, later absorbed in Trinity College, some sixty years after its foundation, possessed a library of eighty-seven volumes (1394). Gifts of books were made to Corpus Christi College soon after its foundation in 1352, but a library is not referred to in the old statutes. Thomas de Eltisle, the first Master, gave several books, among them a very fine missal, "most excellently annotated throughout all the offices, and bound with a cover of white deer leather, and with red clasps." At this time (1376) we find an inventory showing that the contents of the library were chiefly theological and law books.

[1] C. A. S. Comm., ii. 73; Willis, iii. 402.

[2] Surtees Soc,, iv. 385.

The intention of King Henry VI was to make the library of King's College and that of Eton very good. In his great plan for the former, which was never carried out, Henry proposed to have in the west side of the court, "atte the ende toward the chirch," "a librarie, conteynyng in lengthe . cx . fete, and in brede . xxiiij . fete, and under hit a large hous for redyug and disputacions, conteynyng in lengthe . xl . fete, and . ij . chambres under the same librarie, euery conteynyng . xxix. fete in lengthe and in brede . xxiiij . fete."[1] But an apartment was set aside for books, and, as a charge was incurred for strewing it with rushes in expectation of a visit from the king, it was evidently a repository worth seeing.[2] Early in 1445 the king sent Richard Chester, sometime his envoy at the Papal court, to France and other countries, and to certain parts of England, in search of books and relics for his foundations. Within two years, however, a joint petition came from Eton and King's College, stating that neither of these colleges "nowe late fownded and newe growyng" "were sufficiently supplied with books for divine service and for their libraries and studies, or with vestments and ornaments, whiche thinges may not be had withoute great and diligente labour be longe processe and right besy inquisicion.' They therefore begged that the king would order Chester to take to hym suche men as shall be seen to hym expedient and profitable, and in especial! John Pye,' the King's stacioner of London, and other suche as teen connyng and have undirstonding in such matiers,' charging them all to laboure effectually, inquere and diligently inserche in all place that ben under' the King's obeysaunce, to gete knowleche where suche bokes, onourmentes, and other necessaries for' the saide colleges may be founder to selle.' They were anxious that Richard Chester should have authority to bye, take, and receive alle suche goodes afore eny other man . . . satisfying to the owners of suche godes suche pris as thei may resonably accorde and agree. Soo that he may have the ferste choise of alle suche goodes afore eny other man, and in especiall of all maner bokes, ornementes, and other necessaries as nowe late were perteyning to the Duke of Gloucestre.' "[3] At King's College many charges were incurred for books a year later, in 1448 By 1452 this foundation had 174 or 175 books, on philosophy, theology, medicine, astrology, mathematics, canon law, grammar, and in classical literature.[4] The only volume now remaining of this collection once belonged to Duke Humfrey, and as the list contains a fair number of classical books—Aristotle, Liber policie Platonis, Tullius in noua rethorica, Seneca, Sallust, Ovid, Julius Caesar, Plutarch—besides a book of Poggio Bracciolini, it seems likely that King's College, and perhaps Eton, received some of the books promised by the Duke to Oxford University and begged for repeatedly and in vain by that University, after his death.[5]

[1] Willis, i. 370.

[2] Willis, i. 537.

[3] Lyte, Eton, 28-29.

[4] James 2, 72-83.

[5] James 2, 70-71; and see p. 144.

Likewise at Eton—which may be referred to appropriately here—the king desired to have a good library. "Item the Est pane in lengthe within the walles . ccxxx. fete in the myddel whereof directly agayns the entre of the cloistre a librarie conteynyng in lengthe . lij . fete and in brede . xxiiij . fete with . iij . chambres aboue on the oon side and . iiij . on the other side and benethe . ix. chambres euery of them in lengthe . xxvj . fete and in brede . xviij . fete with . v. utter toures and . v. ynner toures."[1]

[1] Willis, i. 356.

A library room is referred to in 1445 or 1446; then "floryshid" glass was bought for the windows of it.[1] In 1484-85 it is again mentioned in connexion with repairs. A year later a lock and twelve keys for the library were paid for.[2] Then in 1517, we are told, "the fyrst stone was layd yn the fundacyon off the weste parse off the College, whereon ys bylded Mr. Provost's logyn, the Gate, and the Lyberary."[3] It would seem that these several references are to the vestry of the Chapel, in which the books were first kept, and then to the Election Hall, to which they were subsequently removed.[4] Henry VI seems to have given L 200 "for to purvey them books to the pleasure of God."[5]

[1] Lyte, Eton, 37; Willis, i. 393.

[2] Willis, i. 414

[3] Lyte, Eton, 101.

[4] James 14 viii.

[5] Lyte, Eton, 29.

St. Catharine's Hall, founded in 1473-75, in a few years enjoyed the use of 104 volumes, of which 85 were given by the founder, Dr. Robert Wodelarke. At Queens' College a library was included in the first buildings; and some twenty-five years after the foundation in 1448, no fewer than 224 volumes were on the desks.[1]

[1] C. A. S. Comm., ii. 165.

As at Oxford, these collections were augmented by the gifts of generous friends and loyal scholars. Peterhouse had many friends. Thomas Lisle, Bishop of Ely, gave a large Bible (1300).[1] In 1418 a welcome gift came from a former Master, John de Newton, who had reserved some theological books, Seneca, Valerius Maximus, and other books for his old house. At this time Peterhouse had 380 volumes: at Oxford the University library was no larger, although it was possibly richer, and in numbers only the library of New College can have beaten it. Sir Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, bequeathed a volume of sermons in 1427.[2] Later Dr. Thomas Lane gave some good books (1450). Then Dr. Roger Marshall presented a large number of volumes, some of which were to be placed in libraria secretiori, and in chains, if the Master and Fellows thought fit, while the remainder were to be chained in apertiori libraria, where they could not be borrowed, but were easily accessible (1472): this benefactor evidently fully appreciated Peterhouse's division of its library into reference and lending sections. Less than a decade later Dr. John Warkworth, the Master, presented fifty-five manuscripts, among which was his own Chronicle. "Among the gifts made to the library in the fifteenth century are one or two which raise curious questions. One book comes from Bury and has the Bury mark. Another belonged to the canons of Hereford; another to Worcester; another to Durham (it is still identifiable in the Durham catalogue of 1391); and there are other instances of the kind. Such a phenomenon makes one very anxious to know how freely and under what conditions collegiate and monastic bodies were in the habit of parting with their books during the time before the Dissolution. Was there not very probably an extensive system of sale of duplicates? I prefer this notion," writes Dr. James, "to the idea that they got rid of their books indiscriminately, because the study of monastic catalogues shows quite plainly that the number of duplicates in any considerable library was very large. On the other hand, it is clear that books often got out of the old libraries into the hands of quite unauthorised persons: so that there was probably both fair and foul play in this matter."[3] To Pembroke College came gifts from successive Masters and from friends between the date of foundation and the year 1484, when the College had received 158 volumes in this way.[4] One of the donors was Rotherham, the great friend of the public library. During the same period a number of books were also purchased. Corpus Christi received a like series of donations. The third Master, John Kynne, gave a Bible, which he had "bought at Northampton at the time (1380) when the Parliament was there, for the purpose of reading therefrom in the Hall at the time of dinner." The fifth and sixth Masters, Drs. Billingford and Tytleshale, were benefactors to the library; and during the latter's mastership one of the fellows, Thomas Markaunt the antiquary, bequeathed seventy-six volumes, then valued at over L 100 (1439).[5] Later Dr. Cosyn presented books; and Dr. Nobys, the twelfth Master, left a large number of volumes, which were chained in the library.

[1] C. A. S. (N.S.), iii. (8vo. ser.) 398.

[2] Ibid., 399.

[3] C. A. S. (N.S.), iii. (8vo. ser.), 399.

[4] James (M. R.) 10, xiii.-xvii.; C. A. S., ii, (8vo. ser. 1864), 13-21.

[5] MS. 232, in the library, contains his will, a list of his books with their prices another catalogue, and a register of the borrowers of the books from 1440 to 1516.

A vicar of St. Mary's, Nottingham, named John Hurte, gave books to several colleges—to Clare Hall seven books, including Guido delle Colonne's Troy book, Ptolemy in Quadripartito; to the College of God's House, afterwards absorbed in Christ's College, Egidius and a Doctrinale; to King's College Isaac de Urinis; to the University Library three books; as well as an astronomical work to Gotham Chest (1476).[1]

[1] Surtees Soc., xiv. 220-22.

At Peterhouse in 1414 special provision was being made for the books in a long room on the first floor. The workman employed on the job was to receive, in addition to his wages, a gown if the College were pleased with his work. By 1431 a new library was necessary, and a contract was entered into for building it. Sixteen years later the work had so progressed that desks were being made. In 1450 the old desks were broken up, and locks and keys were bought for sixteen new cases. This library was on the west side of the quadrangle. A library for Clare Hall was built between 1420 and 1430. A little before this a new library was begun for King's Hall, probably to replace a smaller room. For the books of Pembroke College a storey was added to the Hall about 1452. The early collection of Gonville Hall was kept in a strong-room; then in 1441 a special room was included in the buildings on the west side of the quadrangle. At Trinity Hall the books were stored in a room over the passage from one court to the other and at the east end of the chapel, and here they remained until after the Reformation. The early library room of Corpus Christi was in the Old Court, on the first floor next to the Master's lodge. In Queens', St. Catharine's, Jesus Christ's, St. John's and Magdalene a library formed a part of the original quadrangle.[1]

[1] Willis, i. 200, 226; iii. 411.



CHAPTER VIII. ACADEMIC LIBRARIES: THEIR ECONOMY

Here it will be convenient to give some account of the regulations for the use of books in colleges, both at Oxford and Cambridge. The University libraries were for reference: the College libraries were for both reference and lending use, and the regulations are therefore different in essentials. By the statutes of University College (1292) one book of every kind that the college had was to be put in some common and safe place, so that the Fellows, and others with the consent of the Fellows, might have the use of it. Sometimes, especially in the colleges of early foundation, this common collection was kept in chests; usually the books were securely chained to desks. The common books were chained at New College (statutes, 1400) and at Lincoln College (1429). At Peterhouse, soon after 1418, some 220 volumes were preserved for reference, and 160 were distributed among the Fellows.[1] At All Souls College a number of books selected by the warden, vice-wardens, and deans, were chained, together with the books given on the express condition that they should be chained (statutes, 1443). This collection, then, was the college reference library; corresponding with the common aumbry of the monastery, but also indicative of the principle of all library organisation that, while it is desirable to lend books, it is also necessary to keep a number of them all together in one fixed place for reference.

[1] Clark, 140.

The libri distribuendi, or books for lending, were the special feature of the college library. At Merton the books were distributed by the warden and sub-warden under an adequate pledge (1276). Once a year, after the books had been inspected, each Fellow of Oriel could select a book on the subject he was reading up, and could keep it, if he chose, until the next distribution a year later, while if there were more books than Fellows, those over could be selected in the same way (statutes, 1329). At Peterhouse, the Senior Dean distributed the books to scholars in the manner he saw fit; later it was ruled that all the books not chained might be circulated once every two years on a day to be fixed by the Master and Senior Dean (statutes, 1344, 1480). At New College students in civil and canon law could have two books for their special use during the time they devoted themselves to those faculties, if they did not own the books themselves. If books remained over, after this distribution, they were to be distributed annually in the usual way (statutes, 1400). Similarly the books were circulated at All Souls (statutes, 1443), at Magdalen (1459), at Exeter[1] and at Queen's. At Lincoln College bachelors could only have logical and philosophical books distributed to them, and not theology (statutes, 1429).

[1] In winter 1382 "viid. ob pro ligature cuiusdam textus philosophic de eleccione Johannis Mattecote." Winter 1405, "id. ob pro pergameno empto pro novo registro faciendo pro eleccione librorum"; winter 1457, "iiiid. More stacionario pro labore suo duobus diebus appreciando libros collegii qui traduntur in eleccionibus sociorum." Autumn 1488, "iis. id. pro redempcione librorum quondam eleccionis domini Ricardi Symon."—O. H. S. 27, Boase, xlix.

The procedure was the same as at the annual claustral distribution. Although these regulations suggest restrictions and little else, the students were as a rule fairly well provided with books. Even if they did not own a single volume of their own, they had the use of the public library of the University, and of the college common library. It is true the distribution or electio librorum took place only once or twice a year, and then a student got only a few volumes. Yet we should not assume that he was obliged to confine his attention to this small dole alone, for it is but reasonable to suppose he could exchange his books with those selected by another student. The electio librorum was a method of securing the safety of the books by distributing the responsibility for making good losses equally over the whole community. In the case of University College an Opponent in theology, a teacher of the Sentences, and a Regent who also taught, had the right to borrow freely any book he wanted if he would restore it, when he had done with it, to the Fellow who had chosen it at the distribution (statutes, 1292).

A register of loans was carefully maintained. The Fellows of All Souls were required to have a small indenture drawn up for each book borrowed, and such indenture was to be left with the warden or the vice- warden (statutes, 1443) At Pembroke College, Cambridge, the librarian or keeper was to prepare large tablets covered with wax and parchment: on the latter were to be written the titles of books, on the former the names of the borrowers; when each book was returned, the borrower's name was pressed out. This was a monastic practice. Such records, even if trifling, were in turn the subject of an indenture if they were transferred from one person to another.[1]

[1] P. R. O., Anc. Deeds, c. 1782.

The rules drawn up to prevent loss were as stringent for college as for monastic libraries. No Fellow of University College could take away, sell, or pawn books belonging to his house without the consent of all the fellows (statutes, 1292). At Peterhouse scholars were bound by oath to similar effect (statutes, 1344). A statute of Magdalen is most insistent—a book could not be alienated, under any excuse whatever, nor lent outside the college, nor could it be lent in quires for copying to a member of the College or a stranger, either in the Hall or out of it, nor could it be taken out of the town, or even out of the Hall, either whole or in sheets, by the Master or any one else, but to the schools it could be taken when necessary and on condition that it was brought back to the college before nightfall (1459). A like injunction was given at Pembroke College, Cambridge, and Brasenose College.

Lending outside a college was unusual, but was sometimes allowed, as in monasteries, under indenture, and upon deposit of a pledge of greater value than the book lent, and with the general consent of Fellows (University College statutes, 1292; All Souls statutes, 1443). Every book belonging to University College had a high value set upon it, so that a borrower should not be careless in his use of it (statutes, 1292); and at Peterhouse the Master and two Deans were expected to set a value upon the books (special statute, 1480). Punishment for default was severe. Any Fellow of Oriel neglecting or refusing to restore his books, or to pay the value set upon them, forfeited his right of selecting for another year, and if he failed to make good the loss before the following Christmas, he was no longer a Fellow—eo facto non socius ibidem existat (1441). If a Fellow of Peterhouse did not produce his book at the fresh selection, or appoint a deputy to bring it, he was liable to be put out of commons until he restored it (statute, 1480).

Equal care was taken of the books which were not circulated. At Merton they were to be kept under three locks (1276). The deeds, books, muniments, and money of Stapeldon Hall or Exeter College were kept in a chest, of which one key was in the hands of the Rector, another of the Senior Scholar, and a third of the Chaplain (statutes, 1316). Three different locks, two large and one small, were used to secure the library door of New College: the Senior Dean and the Senior Bursar had the keys of the large locks, and each Fellow had a key of the small lock; all three locks were to be secured at night (statutes, 1400). An indenture was drawn up of all the books, charters, and muniments of Peterhouse in the presence of the greater number of the scholars: all the books were named and classified according to faculty. One part of the indenture was retained by the Master, the other part by the Deans. All these books and records were preserved in chests, each of which had two keys, one in the care of the Master, the other in the hands of the Senior Dean (statutes, 1344). Books being regarded as an inestimable treasure, which ought to be most religiously guarded, they could not be taken from Peterhouse, if chained up, except with the consent of the Master and all the Fellows in residence, who must be a majority of the whole Society; and books given on condition of being chained were not to be removed under any pretext, excepting only for repair. Even libri distribuendi were not to be without the college at night, except by permission of the Master or a Dean, and then they could not be retained for six months in succession (statute, 1480).

To detect missing books stock was taken, usually once a year: again, as in the monasteries. Once a year on a fixed day the books of Oriel were to be brought out and displayed for inspection before the Provost or his deputy and all the Fellows (statutes, 1329). The same ceremony took place at Trinity Hall twice a year; the books were to be laid out one by one, so that they could be seen by everybody (statutes, 1350); at Peterhouse the inspection was held only once in two years (statute, 1480). At All Souls an inspection was held (statutes, 1443); at the Pembroke College inspection each book was exhibited in order to the Masters and Fellows. At Magdalen, as elsewhere, the inspection was thorough: the books were to be shown realiter, visibiliter, et distincte.

The above rules embody the common practice of the colleges. Certain houses had unusual provisions. Every Fellow of Magdalen College was to close the book he had been reading before he left, and also shut the windows (statutes, 1459). With the beginning of the sixteenth century comes a faint hint of discrimination in selecting books. No book was to be brought into the library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, or chained there, if it were not of sufficent worth and importance (nisi sit competentis pretii aut utilitas) (unless it had been given with specific direction that it should be chained), but it was to go among the books for lending (statutes, 1517).[1]

[1] See further, Documents relating to the University and Colleges of Cambridge (3v. 1852); Statutes of the College of Oxford (3v. 1853), especially i. 54, 97; ii. 60, 89; and Mun. Acad. Cf. Willis, Camb., iii. 387.

In certain of the colleges a book was read aloud during meals. It is noted that in 1284 the scholars of Merton were so noisy that the person appointed to read from Gregory's Moralia could not be properly heard.[1] Reading aloud was also enjoined at University Hall, Oxford.[2] This was, of course, a monastic practice.

[1] Lyte, 81.

[2] Ibid., 84.

This brief description of the practice of the colleges in regard to books may be concluded fittingly with an account of the rules which Richard de Bury proposed to apply for the safety of his library when reposed within the walls of Durham Hall. These provisions are specially interesting as an example of the care with which a fussy bookworm attempted to safeguard his treasures, and because they permit free lending of books outside the Hall. Five of the scholars sojourning in the Hall were to be appointed by the Master to have charge of the books, "of which five persons three and not fewer" might lend any book or books for inspection and study. No book was to be allowed outside the walls of the house for copying. "Therefore, when any scholar, secular or religious, whom for this purpose we regard with equal favour, shall seek to borrow any book, let the keepers diligently consider if they have a duplicate of the said book, and if so, let them lend him the book, taking such pledge as in their judgment exceeds the value of the book delivered, and let a record be made forthwith of the pledge, and of the book lent, containing the names of the persons delivering the book and of the person who receives it, together with the day and year when the loan is made." But if the book was not in duplicate, the keepers were forbidden to lend it to anybody not belonging to the Hall, "unless perhaps for inspection within the walls of the aforesaid house or Hall, but not to be carried beyond it."

A book could be lent to any of the scholars in the Hall by three of the keepers, on condition that the borrower's name and the date on which he received the book were recorded. This book could not be transferred to another scholar except by permission of three keepers, and then the record must be altered.

"Each keeper shall take an oath to observe all these regulations when they enter upon the charge of the books. And the recipients of any book or books shall thereupon swear that they will not use the book or books for any other purpose but that of inspection or study, and that they will not take or permit to be taken it or them beyond the town and suburbs of Oxford.

"Moreover, every year the aforesaid keepers shall render an account to the Master of the House and two of his scholars whom he shall associate with himself, or if he shall not be at leisure, he shall appoint three inspectors, other than the keepers, who shall peruse the catalogue of books, and see that they have them all, either in the volumes themselves or at least as represented by deposits. And the more fitting season for rendering this account we believe to be from the first of July until the festival of the Translation of the Glorious Martyr S. Thomas next following.

"We add this further provision, that anyone to whom a book has been lent, shall once a year exhibit it to the keepers, and shall, if he wishes it, see his pledge. Moreover, if it chances that a book is lost by death, theft, fraud, or carelessness, he who has lost it or his representative or executor shall pay the value of the book and receive back his deposit. But if in any wise any profit shall accrue to the keepers, it shall not be applied to any purpose but the repair and maintenance of the books."[1]

[1] R. de B., ed. Thomas, pp. 246-48.

It will be seen that had De Bury's aim been consummated, a small public lending library would have been founded in Oxford, from which at first only a few duplicates would be issued, but which might, in time, have become an important institution.



CHAPTER IX. THE USE OF BOOKS TOWARDS THE END OF THE MANUSCRIPT PERIOD

Section I

The cheapening of books has brought many pleasures, but has been the cause of our losing—or almost losing—one pleasant social custom,—the pastime of reciting tales by the fireside or at festivities, which was popular until the end of the manuscript age.

"Men lykyn jestis for to here And romans rede in divers manere."

At their games and feasts and over their ale men were wont to hear tales and verses.[1] The tale-tellers were usually professional wayfaring entertainers: "japers and mynstralles' that sell glee,' " as the scald sang his lays before King Hygelac and roused Beowulf to slay Grendel—

"Gestiours, that tellen tales Bothe of weping and of game."[2]

Call hither, cries Sir Thopas, minstrels and gestours, "for to tellen tales"—

"Of romances that been royales, Of popes and of cardinals, And eek of love-lykinge." (II. 2035-40).

[1] Troilus, Bk. v. Il. 1797-98.

[2] Piers Plowman.

Rhymers and poets had these entertainments in mind when they wrote—

"And red wher-so thou be, or elles songe, That thou be understonde I god beseche,"

cries Chaucer.[1] Note also the preliminary request for silence and attention at the beginning of Sir Thopas—

"Listeth, lordes, in good entent, And I wol telle verrayment Of mirthe and of solas [solace]; Al of a kuyght was fair and gent [gallant] In bataille and in tourneyment, His name was Sir Thopas."

[1] Hous of Fame, 1. 1198.

At the beginning of his metrical chronicle of England Robert Mannyng of Brunne begs the "Lordynges that be now here" to listen to the story of England, as he had found it and Englished it for the solace of those "lewed" men who knew not Latin or French.[1]

[1] Furnivall's ed., Rolls S., pt. 1, p. 1.

References to these minstrels are common—

"I warne you furst at the beginninge, That I will make no vain carpinge [talk] Of cedes of armys ne of amours, As dus mynstrelles and jestours, That makys carpinge in many a place Of Octoviane and Isembrase, And of many other jestes, And namely, when they come to festes; Ne of the life of Bevys of Hampton, That was a knight of gret renoun, Ne of Sir Gye of Warwyke."[2]

[2] MS. Reg. 17, C, viii. f. 2; cited in Skeat's Chaucer, v. 194.

The monks of Hyde Abbey or New Minster paid an annuity to a harper (1180). No less a sum than seventy shillings was paid to minstrels hired to sing and play the harp at the feast of the installation of an abbot of St. Augustine's, Canterbury (1309). When the bishop of Winchester visited the cathedral priory of St. Swithin or Old Minster, a minstrel was hired to sing the song of Colbrond the Danish giant—a legend connected with Winchester—and the tale of Queen Emma delivered from the ploughshares (1338). Payments to minstrels were commonly made by monks: at Bicester Priory, for example (1431), and at Maxstoke, where mimi, joculatores, jocatores, lusores, and citharistae were hired. A curious provision occurs in the statutes of New College, Oxford (1380). The founder gives his permission to the scholars, for their recreation on festival days in the winter, to light a fire in the hall after dinner and supper, where they could amuse themselves with songs and other entertainments of decent sort, and could recite poems, chronicles of kingdoms, the wonders of the world, and such like compositions, provided they befitted the clerical character. At Winchester College—where minstrels were often employed—and Magdalen College the same practice was followed. Commonly minstrels formed a regular part of the household of rich men.[1]

[1] Warton, 96-99; Rashdall and Rait, New Coll., 60.

This part of the subject is so interesting that we feel tempted to linger over it, but it is sufficient for our purpose to observe that minstrelsy, before and after the Conquest —indeed, up to nearly the end of the manuscript period— was the chief and almost the only means of circulating literature among seculars. This fact should be borne in mind when any comparison is made between the number of religious and scholastic books in circulation and the number of books of lighter character. Even books of the scholastic class were read aloud to students in class, and often to small audiences of older people; but this method had obvious disadvantages, and the necessity of studying them personally soon came to be recognised as imperative. Hence such books, and especially those which summarised the subject of study, were greatly multiplied. On the other hand, romances were better heard than read, and only enough copies of them were made to supply wealthy households and the minstrels and jesters whose business it was to learn and recite them. Rarely, therefore, did the ordinary layman of medieval England own many books. The large class to whom romances appealed seldom owned books at all, simply because the people of this class, even if wealthy and of noble rank, could not in ninety cases out of one hundred read at all, or could read so poorly that the pastime was irksome. Among the educated classes, the books needed were those with which a reader had made acquaintance at his university, or which were necessary for his special study and occupation. Yet it is uncommon to find private libraries; and with few exceptions they were ridiculously small. The vast majority of the books were owned in common by monastic or collegiate societies.

Let us bring together the meagre records of three centuries, and some exceptions to the general rule which serve only to show up the general poverty of the land. Henry II, an ardent sportsman, a ruler almost completely immersed in affairs of State, made time for private reading and for working out knotty questions,[1] and very probably he had a library to his hand. King John received from the sacristan of Reading a small collection of books of the Bible and severe theology, perhaps as a diplomatic gift, perhaps as a subtle reminder that a little food for the spirit would improve his morals and ameliorate the lot of his subjects. Edward II borrowed at least two books, the Miracles of St. Thomas and the Lives of St. Thomas and St. Anselm, from Christ Church, Canterbury.[2] Great Earl Simon had a Digestum vetus from the same source. Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick (d. 1315), had a little hoard of romances, and some other books. Hugh le Despenser the elder enjoyed a "librarie of bookes" (c. 1321), how big or of what character we do not know. Archbishop Meopham (d. 1333) gave some books to Christ Church, Canterbury; and his successor, John Stratford, presented a few to the same house. Lady Elizabeth de Clare, foundress of Clare Hall, bequeathed to her foundation a tiny collection of service books and volumes on canon law (1355). William de Feriby, Archdeacon of Cleveland, left a small theological library (1378). One John Percyhay of Swinton in Rydal (1392), Sir Robert de Roos (1392), John de Clifford, treasurer of York Church (1392), Canon Bragge of York (1396), and Eleanor Bohun, Duchess of Gloucester (1399), all left Bibles; and small collections of books, much alike in character, consisting usually of psalters, books of religious offfices, legends of the saints, Peter of Blois, Nicholas Trivet, the Brut chronicle, books of Decretals, and the Corpus Juris Civilis,—most of it sorry stuff, the last achievements of dogmatism on threadbare subjects. "Among all the church dignitaries whose wills are recorded in Bishop Stafford's register at Exeter (1395- 1419), the largest library mentioned is only of fourteen volumes. The sixty testators include a dean, two archdeacons, twenty canons or prebendaries, thirteen rectors, six vicars, and eighteen layfolk, mostly rich people. The whole sixty apparently possessed only two Bibles between them, and only one hundred and thirty-eight books altogether: or, omitting church service-books, only sixty; i.e. exactly one each on an average. Thirteen of the beneficed clergy were altogether bookless, though several of them possessed the baselard or dagger which church councils had forbidden in vain for centuries past; four more had only their breviary. Of the laity fifteen were bookless, while three had service books, one of these being a knight who simply bequeathed them as part of the furniture of his private chapel."[3]

[1] Stubbs, Lect. on Med. Hist., 137.

[2] James (M. R.), 148.

[3] Coulton, Chaucer and his England, 99.

A few exceptions there were, as we have said. Not till the fifteenth century do we find that a few books were commonly in the possession of well-to-do and cultivated people; suggesting an advance in culture upon the prevlous age. But before 1400 several book collectors were sharp aberrations from the general rule. Richard de Gravesend, Bishop of London, owned nearly a hundred books, almost all theological, and each worth on an average more than a sovereign a volume, or in all about L 1740 of our money. A certain Abbot Thomas of St. Augustine's Abbey, Canterbury, gave to his house over one hundred volumes.[1] To the same monastery a certain John of London, probably a pupil of Friar Bacon, left a specialist's library of about eighty books, no fewer than forty-six being on mathematics, astronomy, and medicine.[2] Simon Langham, too, bequeathed to Westminister Abbey ninety-one works, some very costly.[3] John de Newton, treasurer of York, left a good library, part of which he bequeathed to York Minster and part to Peterhouse (1418). A canon of York, Thomas Greenwood, died worth more than thirty pounds in books alone (1421). And Henry Bowet, Archbishop of York, left a collection of thirty-three volumes, nearly all of great price,—copies de luxe, finely illuminated and embellished, worth on an average a pound a volume (1423).

[1] James (M. R.), lxxli.; this number is probably correct, but owing to confusion between three Abbots of this name it is not certainly right.

[2] Ibid., lxxiv.

[3] Robinson, 4-7.

But Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, is at once the bibliomaniac's ideal and enigma (1287-1345). All accounts agree in saying he collected a large number of books.

What became of them we do not know. In the Philobiblon, of which he is the reputed author, he expressed his intention of founding a hall at Oxford, and of leaving his books to it. Durham College, however, was not completed until thirty-six years after his death. Among the Durham College documents is a catalogue of the books it owned at the beginning of the fifteenth century, and only the books sent to Oxford in 1315, and as many more are mentioned, so that his large library did not go to the college, but was probably dispersed." De Bury, like Cobham, was a heavy debtor, and as he lay dying his servants stole all his moveable goods and left him naked on his bed save for an undershirt which a lackey had thrown over him.[2] His executors, as we know, were glad to resell to St. Albans Abbey the books he had bought from the monks there.

[1] O. H. S., 32, Collect. 36-40; also 9.

[2] Blakiston, Trin. Coll. 5, 7; A. de Murimuth, 171.

De Bury has left us an account of his methods of collecting which throws some light upon the trade in books in his time. "Although from our youth upwards we had always delighted in holding social commune with learned men and lovers of books, yet when we prospered in the world, . . . we obtained ampler facilities for visiting everywhere as we would, and of hunting as it were certain most choice preserves, libraries private as well as public, and of the regular as well as of the secular clergy.... There was afforded to us, in consideration of the royal favour, easy access for the purpose of freely searching the retreats of books. In fact, the fame of our love of them had been soon winged abroad everywhere, and we were reported to burn with such desire for books, and especially old ones, that it was more easy for any man to gain our favour by means of books than of money. Wherefore, since supported by the goodness of the aforesaid prince of worthy memory, we were able to requite a man well or ill . . . there flowed in, instead of presents and guerdons, and instead of gifts and jewels, soiled tracts and battered codices, gladsome alike to our eye and heart. Then the aumbries of the most famous monasteries were thrown open, cases were unlocked and caskets were undone, and volumes that had slumbered through long ages in their tombs wake up and are astonished, and those that had lain hidden in dark places are bathed in the ray of unwonted light. These long lifeless books, once most dainty, but now become corrupt and loathesome, covered with litters of mice and pierced with the gnawings of the worms, and who were once clothed in purple and fine linen, now Iying in sackcloth and ashes, given up to oblivion, seemed to have become habitations of the moth.... Thus the sacred vessels of learning came into our control and stewardship; some by gift, others by purchase, and some lent to us for a season."[1]

[1] R. de B., 197-199.

If his words are true, monastic and other libraries must have been seriously despoiled to build up his own collection. He was bribed by St. Albans Abbey, and nobody need disbelieve him when he says he got many presents from other houses, for the merit of being open-handed was rewarded with more good mediation and favours than the giver's cause deserved; indeed, De Bury himself seems to have made judicious use of bribes for his own advancement.[1] Usually gifts were in jewels or plate, but books were given to men known to love them; as when Whethamstede presented Humfrey of Gloucester and the Duke of Bedford with books they coveted.

[1] "R. de Bury . . . qui ipsum episcopatum et omnia sua beneficia prius habita per preces magnatum et ambitionis vitium adquisivit, et ideo toto tempore suo inopia laboravit et prodigus exstitit in expensis."—Murimuth, 171.

While acting as emissary for his "illustrious prince," de Bury hunts his quarry in the narrow ways of Paris, and captures "inestimable books" by freely opening his purse, the coins of which are, to his mind, "mud and sand" compared with the treasures he gets. He blesses the friars and protects them, and they rout out books from the "universities and high schools of various provinces"; but how, whether rightfully or wrongfully, we do not know. He "does not disdain," he tells us—in truth, he is surely overjoyed—to visit "their libraries and any other repositories of books"; nay, there he finds heaped up amid the utmost poverty the utmost riches of wisdom. He freely employs the booksellers, but the wiles of the collector are as notorious as the wiles of women, and his chief aim is to "captivate the affection of all" who can get him books;—not even forgetting "the rectors of schools and the instructors of rude boys," although we cannot think he gets much from them. If he cannot buy books, he has copies made: about his person are scribes and correctors, illuminators and binders, and generally all who can usefully labour in the service of books; in large numbers—in no small multitude. And by these means he gets together more books than all the other English bishops put together: more than five waggon loads; a veritable hoard, overflowing into the hall of his house, and into his bedroom, where he steps over them to get to his couch. He was a man "of small learning," says Murimuth; "passably literate," writes Chambre; at the best, according to Petrarch, "of ardent temperament, not ignorant of literature, with a natural curiosity for out-of-the- way lore": an antiquarian, not of the lovable kind, but unscrupulous, pedantic, and vain, indulging an inordinate taste for collecting and hoarding books, perhaps to satisfy a craving for shreds and patches of knowledge, but more likely to earn a reputation as a great clerk.[1] For De Bury was something of a humbug; the Philobiblon, if it is his work, reaches the utmost limit of affectation in the love of books.

[1] "Volens tamen magnus clericus reputari."—Murimuth, 171.



Section II

The literature of the later part of the fourteenth century affords us glimpses of other readers who were not merely collectors. The author—or authors—of Piers Plowman seems to have had within his reach a fair library. His reading was carelessly done for the most part, his references are vague and incorrect, and his quotations not always exact. But he was well read in the Scriptures, which he knew far better than any other book. From the Fathers he gathered much, perhaps by means of collections of extracts from their works. He used the Golden Legend, Huon de Meri's allegorical poem of the fight between Jesus and the Antichrist, Peter Comestor's Bible History, Rustebeuf's La Voie de Paradis, Grosseteste's religious allegory of Le Chastel d' Amour, the paraded learning of Vincent of Beauvais in Speculum Historiale, and other works—numerous and small signs of booklore, which are completely overshadowed by his illuminating comprehension of the popular side in the politics of his day. Gower, too, had at his disposal a little library of some account, including the Scriptures, theological writings and ecclesiastical histories, Aristotle, some of the classics, and a good deal of romance in prose and verse.

But Chaucer was the ideal book-lover: knowing Dante, Boccaccio, and in some degree "Franceys Petrark, the laureat poete," who "enlumined al Itaille of poetry," Virgil, Cicero, Seneca, Ovid—his favourite author—and Boethius; as well as Guido delle Colonne's prose epic of the story of Troy, the poems of Guillaume de Machaut, the Roman de la Rose, and a work on the astrolabe by Messahala.[1] We have some excellent pictures of Chaucer's habit of reading. When his day's work is done he goes home and buries himself with his books—

"Domb as any stoon, Thou sittest at another boke, Til fully daswed is thy loke."[2]

[1] Skeat's Chaucer, vi. 381.

[2] Hous of Fame, Works, iii. bk. ii. l. 656-58.

In the Parliament of Fowls he tells us that he read books often for instruction and pleasure, and the coming on of night alone would force him to put away his book. He would not have been a true reader had he not developed the habit of reading in bed.

". . . Whan I saw I might not slepe, Til now late, this other night, Upon my bedde I sat upright And bad oon reche me a book, A romance, and he hit me took To rede and dryve the night away; . . . . . . . . . And in this boke were writen fables That clerkes hadde, in olde tyme, And other poets, put in ryme...."[1]

[1] Book of the Duchesse, 44.

So he found solace and delight, as countless thousands have done, in his Ovid. The world of books and of reading is apt to seem stuffy, the favoured home of the moody spirit, a lair to which a dirty and ragged Magliabechi retreats, a palace where a Beckford gloats solitary over his treasures—a world whence we often desire to escape, since we know we can return to it when we will. For if good books shelter us from the realities of life, life itself refreshes the student like cool rain upon the fevered brow. Chaucer was the bright spirit who let his books fill their proper place in his life. In books, he says—

"I me delyte, And to hem give I feyth and ful credence, And in myn heart have hem in reverence So hertely that ther is game noon That fro my bokes maketh me to goon."

Yet books are something much less than life: there is the open air,—the meadows bright with flowers,—the melody of birds,—

". . . Whan that the month of May Is comen, and that I hear the foules singe, And that the flowers 'ginnen for to spring Farwel my book...."[1]

[1] Legend of Good Women, prol. 30ff.



Section III

By the end of the fourteenth century we find signs that books more often formed a part of well-to-do households, and that the formal reading and reciting entertainments were giving place gradually to the informal and personal use of books. Among many pieces of evidence that this was so, Chaucer himself furnishes us with two of the best, one in the Wife of Bath's Tale, and the other in his Troilus and Criseide. The Wife took for her fifth husband, "God his soule blesse," a clerk of Oxenford—

"He was, I trowe, a twenty winter old, And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth."

Joly Jankin, as the clerk was called,

"Hadde a book that gladly, night and day, For his desport he wolde rede alway.

He cleped [called] it Valerie and Theofraste,[1] At whiche book he lough alwey ful faste. And every night and day was his custume, . . . . . . . . . When he had leyser and vacacioun From other worldly occupacioun, To reden on this book of wikked wyves."[2]

[1] Valerie: possibly Epistola Valerii ad Rifinum de uxore non ducenda, attributed to Walter Mapes; it is a short treatise of about eight folios; it is printed in Cam. Soc. xvi. 77. Theofraste: Aureolus liber de Nuptiis, by one Theophrastus.

[2] Ll. 669-85.

And having quickly taken measure of the Wife's character, he could not refrain from reading to her stories which seemed to contain a lesson and to point a moral for her. She lost patience, and was "beten for a book, pardee."

"Up-on a night Jankin, that was our syre, Redde on his book, as he sat by the fyre."

And when his wife saw he would "never fyne" to read "this cursed book al night," all suddenly she plucked three leaves out of it, "right as he radde," and with her fist so took him on the cheek that he fell "bakward adoun" in the fire. Springing up like a mad lion he smote her on the head with his fist, and she lay upon the floor as she were dead. Whereupon he stood aghast, sorry for what he had done; and "with muchel care and wo" they made up their quarrel: our clerk, let us hope, winning peace, and his wife securing the mastery of their household affairs and the destruction of the "cursed book."

In Troilus we are told that Uncle Pandarus comes into the paved parlour, where he finds his niece sitting with two other ladies—

". . . And they three Herden a mayden reden hem the geste Of the Sege of Thebes . . ."

"What are you reading?" cries Pandarus. "For Goddes love, what seith it? Tel it us. Is it of love?" Whereupon the niece returns him a saucy answer, and "with that they gonnen laughe," and then she says—

"This romaunce is of Thebes, that we rede; And we can herd how that King Laius deyde Thurgh Edippus his sone, and al that cede; And here we stenten [left off] at these lettres recle, How the bisshop, as the book can telle, Amphiorax, fil through the ground to helle."[1]

[1] Troilus, ii. 81-105.

This picture of a little informal reading circle is not to be found in like perfection elsewhere in English medieval literature.[1]

[1] It seems to be Chaucer's own; only ahout one-third of the poem comes from Boccaccio's Filostrato. Chaucer had a copy of the Thebais of Statius.—Troilus, v. 1. 1484.



Section IV

By the middle of the fifteenth century book-collecting was a more fashionable pastime. Had it not been so we should have been surprised. From 1365 to 1450 was an age of library building. Oxford University now had its library: in quick succession the colleges of Merton, William of Wykeham, Exeter, University, Durham, Balliol, Peterhouse, Lincoln, All Souls, Magdalen, Queens' (Cambridge), Pembroke (Cambridge), and St. John's (Cambridge) followed the example. Library rooms also had been put up in the cathedrals of Hereford, Exeter, York, Lincoln, Wells, Salisbury, St. Paul's, and Lichfield. Moreover, in London had been established the first public library. Dick Whittington, of famous memory, and William Bury founded it between 1421 and 1426. The civic records tell us that "Upon the petition of John Coventry, John Carpenter, and William Grove, the executors of Richard Whittington and William Bury, the Custody of the New House, or Library, which they had built, with the Chamber under, was placed at their disposal by the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty."[1] The foundation is described as "a certen house next unto the sam Chapel apperteynyug, called the library, all waies res'ved for students to resorte unto, wt three chambres under nithe the saide library, which library being covered wt slate is valued together wt the chambres at xiijs. iiijd. yerely.... The sated library is a house appointed by the sated Maior and cominaltie for . . . resorte of all students for their education in Divine Scriptures."[2] Stow, writing in 1598, spoke of it as "sometime a fayre and large library, furnished with books.... The armes of Whitington are placed on the one side in the stone worke, and two letters, to wit, W. and B., for William Bury, on the other side." Wealthy citizens came forward with pecuniary aid then as they have ever done. William Chichele, sometime Sheriff, bequeathed "xli to be bestowyed on books notable to be layde in the newe librarye at the gildehall at London for to be memoriall for John Hadle, sumtyme meyre, and for me there while they mowe laste."[3] This was in 1425. Eighteen years later one of Whittington's executors, named John Carpenter, made this direction in his will: "If any good or rare books shall be found amongst the said residue of my goods, which, by the discretion of the aforesaid Master William Lichfield and Reginald Pecock, may seem necessary to the common library at Guildhall, for the profit of the students there, and those discoursing to the common people, then I will and bequeath that those books be placed by my executors and chained in that library that the visitors and students thereof may be the sooner admonished to pray for my soul" (1442)[4] But this library, like so many others, did not survive the disastrous years of mid-sixteenth century.

[1] Letter book K, fo. 39, July 4, 1426.

[2] From schedule of the possessions of the Guildhall College, July 24, 1549.—L. A. R., x. 381.

[3] Chichele Register, pt. I, fo. 392b, Lamb. Pal.; L. A. R., x. 382.

[4] Conf. of Librarians (1877), 216; L. A. R., x. 382.

It would be singular if this progress in library making were not reflected in the habits of a considerable section of the people. The court and its entourage set the fashion. Henry VI was a lover of books and a collector. His uncle, John, Duke of Bedford, although much occupied with public affairs and mercilessly warring with France, got together a rich library, particularly noteworthy for finely illuminated books: the famous library of the Louvre was a part of his French booty. Of his brother Gloucester we have already spoken. Archbishop Kempe owned a library of theology, canon and civil law, and other books, worth more than L 260. He also gave money towards the cost of Gloucester's library at Oxford; as did also Cardinal Beaufort and the Duchess of Gloucester. Sir John Fastolf possessed a small number of books at Caistor (c. 1450). The collection was of some distinction, as the inventory will show: "In the Stewe hous; of Frenche books, the Bible, the Cronycles of France, the Cronicles of Titus Levius, a booke of Jullius Cesar, lez Propretez dez Choses [by Barth Glanville], Petrus de Crescentiis, fiber Almagesti, fiber Geomancie cum iiij aliis Astronomie, fiber de Roy Artour, Romaunce la Rose, Cronicles d'Angleterre, Veges de larte Chevalerie, Instituts of Justien Emperer, Brute in ryme, fiber Etiques, fiber de Sentence Joseph, Problemate Aristotelis, Vice and Vertues, fiber de Cronykes de Grant Bretagne in ryme, Meditacions Saynt Bernard."[1] Perhaps this little hoard may be taken as a fair example of a wealthy gentleman's library in the fifteenth century. A collection perhaps accurately representing the average prelatical library was that of Richard Browne, running to more than thirty books of the common medieval character (1452). A canon residentiary of York named William Duffield had a library of forty volumes, as fine as Archbishop Bowet's collection, and valued at a higher figure (1452). Ralph Dreff, of Broadgates Hall, possessed no fewer than twenty-three volumes, a larger collection than Oxford students usually had. A vicar of Cookfield owned twenty-four books, some of them priced cheaply (1451).

[1] Hist. MSS., 8th Rept., pt. I, 268a

Some collections were pathetically small. A disreputable student of Oxford, John Brette, had among his "bits of things" a book and a pamphlet. Thomas Cooper, scholar of Brasenose Hall, enjoyed the use of six volumes. Another scholar, John Lassehowe, had a like number; and another, Simon Berynton, had fifteen books, worth sixpence (c. 1448)! A rector also had six, one of them Greek; a chaplain was equipped with six medical works; and James Hedyan, bachelor of canon and civil law, could employ his leisure in reading one of his little store of eight volumes. One Elizabeth Sywardby owned eight books, three being costly (1468).



Section V

More records of the same kind may be obtained from almost any collection of wills and inventories, the number of them increasing towards the end of the manuscript age. How far this change was due to the influence of Italy we do not fully know. Certainly before the end of Henry VI's reign the first impulse of the Italian renascence—the impulse to gather up the materials of a more catholic and liberal knowledge—had been transmitted to England. Students left our shores to widen their studies in Italy. Public men in England corresponded with Italians, and fall into sympathy with their aims. Occasianally scholars came hither from Italy. Manuel Chrysoloras, one of the leading revivers of Greek studies in Italy, visited England in the service of Manuel Palaeologus, and possibly stayed at Christ Church monastery in 1408.[1] Poggio Bracciolini came to this country in 1418-23 at the invitation of Cardinal Beautort: what he did while here we know far too little about, but this visit of Italy's greatest book- collector and discoverer of Latin classical manuscripts cannot have been without some effect upon English students. For Poggio the visit was almost without result. He was in search of manuscripts, but apparently failed to get any with which he was unacquainted. He dismissed our libraries with the sharp criticism that they were full of trash, and described Englishmen as almost devoid of love for letters.[2] Aeneas Sylvius also came here, and his visit likewise must have borne some fruit (1435).

[1] Gasquet 2, 20; Sandys, ii. 220; Legrand, Bibliographie Hellenique, i. (1885) xxiv., where the date is 1405-6.

[2] Epp. (ed. Tonelli, 1832-61), i. 43, 70, 74.

Much also was accomplished by correspondence. Among those in communication with Italians and acquainted with the course of their studies, were Bishop Bekington, one of the earliest alumni of Wykeham's foundation at Oxford, Adam de Molyneux, the correspondent of Aeneas Sylvius, Thomas Chaundler, warden of New College, Archdeacon Bildstone, Archbishop Arundel, the benefactor of Oxford University Library and correspondent of Salutati, Cardinal Beaufort's secretary, and Humfrey of Gloucester. Upon the last-named Italian influence was strong. Among the books he gave to Oxford were Petrarch, Dante, and Boccaccio, but probably the strongest evidence of this influence would be found in the books he retained for his own use. He sought a rendering of Aristotle's Politics from Bruni; of Cicero's Republic from Decembrio; of certain of Plutarch's Lives from Lapo da Castiglionchio; and had other works translated.[1]

[1] "Cest livre est a moy Homfrey Duc de Glocestre, lequel je fis translater de Grec en Latin par un de mes secretaires, Antoyne de Beccariane de Verone." —Cam. Soc. 1843, Ellis, Letters, 357.

But many English students were attracted to visit Italy for the express purpose of sitting under Italian teachers. As early as 1395, one Thomas of England, a brother of the Augustine order, went to Italy and purchased manuscripts, "books of the modern poets," and translations and other early works of Leonardo Bruni.[1] Thomas was one of the first of a number of enlightened Englishmen who journeyed laboriously and in steady procession to Italy, this time not only to Rome, but to the northern towns, then, with Venice, "the common ports of humanity," whither they were attracted by the fame of the bright galaxy of humanists—of Coluccio Salutati, collector of Latin manuscripts, Manuel Chrysoloras, Niccolo de' Niccoli, grubbing Poggio Bracciolini, Pope Nicholas, sometime Cosimo de' Medici's librarian and the founder of the Vatican Library, Giovanni Aurispa, famous collector of Greek manuscripts in the East, the renowned Guarino da Verona, Palla degli Strozzi, would-be founder of a public library, Cosimo de' Medici, whose princely collections are the chiefest treasures of the Laurentian Library, Francesco Filelfo, another importer of Greek books from Constantinople, and Vespasiano, the great bookseller.

[1] Gherardi, Statuti della Univ. e Studio Fiorentino, 364; Sandys, ii. 220; Einstein, 15.

Sometimes these pilgrims to Italy were poor men, as were John Free, and the two Oxford men, Norton and Bulkeley, who went thither in 1425-29.[1] But as a rule such a journey was only possible for wealthy men. An important pilgrim was Andrew Holes, who represensed England at the Pope's court in Florence.[2] In the eyes of Vespasiano, Holes was one of the most cultivated of Englishmen. He appears to have bought too many books to send by land, and so was obliged to wait for a ship to transport them. What became of these books?—did he collect for his own use?—or was he acting merely for Duke Humfrey or the king?—or did he leave them, as it is said, to his Church? Unfortunately these are questions which cannot be answered.

[1] O. H. S., 35, Anstey, 17, 45.

[2] "Messer Andrea Ols" in Italian authority; identified by Dr. Sandys.

Four other men, Tiptoft, Grey, Free, and Gunthorpe, all of Balliol College, where the influence of Duke Humfrey may fairly be suspected, journeyed to Italy. "Butcher" Tiptoft, an intimate of another enlightened community at Christ Church, visited Guarino, walked Florentine streets arm-in-arm with Vespasiano, thrilled Aeneas Sylvius, then Pope, with a Latin oration, and returned to his own country with many books, some of which he intended to give to Oxford University—one of the best deeds of his unhappy and calamitous life.[1] While in Italy, William Grey, who sat under Guarino, and made Niccolo Perotti, well known as a grammarian, free of his princely establishment, was conspicuously industrious in accumulating books. If he could not obtain them in any other way he employed scribes to copy for him, and an artist of Florence to adorn them in a costly manner with miniatures and initials. In nearly six years he collected over two hundred volumes of manuscripts, some as old as the twelfth century; probably the finest library sent to England in that age. No fewer than 152 of his manuscripts are now in the Balliol College library, to which he gave his whole collection in 1478; unfortunately most of the miniatures are destroyed. To his patronage of learning and his book- collecting propensities Grey owed his friendship with Nicholas V, and his bishopric of Ely. Grey was also a good friend to Free or Phreas, a poor student, and aided him in Italy with money for his expenses of living and to obtain Greek manuscripts to translate.[2] Free and John Gunthorpe, Dean of Wells, went to Italy together: Free did not live to return, but Gunthorp brought home manuscripts. He gave the bulk of them to Jesus College, where only one or two are left; some have found their way to other Cambridge Colleges.[3] Another Oxford scholar, Robert Flemming, was in Italy in 1450: here he became the friend of the great librarian of the Vatican, Platina; and got together a number of manuscripts, afterwards given to Lincoln College.

[1] O. H. S., 36, Anstey, ii. 380-01; Sandys, ii. 221-26; Einstein, 26.

[2] MS. 587 Bodl.

[3] Leland 3, 463; Leland, iii. 13; Einstein, 23, 54-5; C. A. S., 8vo ser., No. 32 (1899), 13.



Section VI

The intercourse of all these scholars with Italians was carried on before mid-fifteenth century. Their chief interest was in Latin books, although a large number of Greek manuscripts had been brought to Italy by Angeli da Scarparia, Guarino, Giovanni Aurispa, and Filelfo. After the fall of Constantinople the Greek immigrants introduced books into Italy much more freely. George Hermonymus of Sparta, a Greek teacher and copyist of Greek manuscripts, visited England on a papal mission in 1475, but whether he had any influence on our intellectual pursuits does not appear.[1] Certainly, however, English scholars soon appreciated this new literature.

[1] E. H. R., xxv. 449.

Letters sent to Pope Sixtus in 1484 by the king, refer to the skill of John Shirwood, bishop of Durham, in Latin and Greek.[1] Shirwood seems to have collected a respectable library. His Latin books were acquired by Bishop Foxe, and formed the nucleus of the library with which the latter endowed Corpus Christi College, Oxford. Some thirty volumes, a number of them printed, now remain at the College to bring him to mind: among them we find Pliny, Terence, Cicero, Livy, Suetonius, Plutarch, and Horace. Less fortunate has been the fate of his Greek books, which went to the collegiate church of Bishop Auckland. At the end of the fifteenth century this church owned about forty volumes. The only exceptions to its medieval character were Cicero's Letters and Offices, Silius Italicus, and Theodore Gaza's Greek grammar.[2] But Leland tells us that Tunstall, who succeeded to the bishopric in 1530, found a store of Shirwood's Greek manuscripts at this church. What became of them we do not know.[3]

[1] Rymer, Foedera, xii. 214, 216; E. H. R., xxv. 450.

[2] Now MS. lit 4, 16, at Cambridge University Library.

[3] On Shirwood's books see E. H. R., xxv. 449-53.

About this same time a certain Emmanuel of Constantinople seems to have been employed in England as a copyist. For Archbishop Neville he produced a Greek manuscript containing some sermones judiciales of Demosthenes, and letters of Aeschines, Plato, and Chion (1468).[1] Dr. Montague James has shown that this manuscript of Emmanuel is by the same hand as the manuscripts known as the "Ferrar group," which comprises "a Plato and Aristotle now at Durham, two psalters in Cambridge libraries, a psalter and part of a Suidas at Oxford, and the famous Leicester Codex of the Gospels."[2] Dr. James believes the Plato and the Aristotle to have been transcribed for Neville by Emmanuel. In 1472 the archbishop's household was broken up, and the "greete klerkys and famous doctors" of his entourage went to Cambridge. Among them, it is conjectured, was Emmanuel, and so it came to pass that three manuscripts in his writing have been at Cambridge; two psalters, as we have said, are there now, land in the beginning of the sixteenth century one of them, with the Leicester Codex, was certainly in the hands of the Grey Friars at Cambridge. This happy fruit of Dr. James' research throws a welcome ray of light on the pursuit of Greek studies in the last quarter of the fifteenth century.[3]

[1] Leiden, Voss. MSS. Graec., 56.

[2] On this group see Harris, Jas. Rendel, The Leicester Codex.

[3] E. H. R., xxv. 446-7; James.

In view of all the hard things which have been said of the religious, it is significant to find them taking a leading part in bringing Greek studies to England. We cannot collate all the instances here, but a few may be brought together. Two Benedictines named William of Selling and William Hadley, some time warden of Canterbury College, Oxford, were in Italy studying and buying books for three years after 1464.[1] The former became distinguished for his aptitude in learning the ancient tongues, and consequently won the friendship of Angelo Poliziano. At least two other visits to Italy were made by him; the last being undertaken as an emissary of the king. On these occasions he got together as many Greek and Latin books as he could, and brought them—a large and precious store—to Canterbury. [2] For some reason the books were kept in the Prior's lodging instead of in the monastic library, and here they perished through the carelessness of Layton's myrmidons.[3] Among the books lost was possibly a copy of Cicero's Republic. Only five manuscripts have been found which can be connected with Selling's library: a fifteenth-century Greek Psalter, a copy of the Psalms in Hebrew and Latin, a Euripides, a Livy, and a magnificent Homer.[4] This Homer we have already referred to in an earlier chapter, when describing the work of Theodore of Tarsus. The signature has now been more plausibly explained, "The following note," writes Dr. James, "which I found in Dr. Masters's copy of Stanley's Catalogue, preserved in [Corpus Christi] College Library, suggests another origin for this Homer. I have been unable to identify the document to which reference is made. It should obviously be a letter of an Italian humanist in the Harleian collection.... Mr. Humphrey Wanley, Librarian to the late Earl of Oxford, told Mr. Fran. Stanley, son of the author, a little before his death, that in looking over some papers in the papers in the Earl's library, he found a Letter from a learned Italian to his Friend in England, wherein he told him there was then a very stately Homer just transcribed for Theodorus Gaza, of whose Illumination he gives him a very particular description, which answer'd so exactly in every part to that here set forth, that he [Wanley] was fully perswaded it was this very Book, and yet the at the bottom of 1st page order'd to be placed there by Gaza as his own name, gave occasion to Abp. Parker to imagine it might have belonged to Theodore of Canterbury, which however Hody was of opinion could not be of that age. "Th. Gaza," continues Dr. James, "died in 1478; the suggestion here made is quite compatible with the hypothesis that Sellinge was the means of conveying the Homer to England, and does supply a rather welcome interpretation of the inscription." This reasonable hypothesis may be strengthened if we point out that Gaza was in Rome from 1464 to 1472, and Selling visited that city between 1464 and 1467 and again in 1469. Selling may have got the manuscript from Gaza on one of these occasions.

[1] Literae Cant. (Rolls Seh), iii. 239; cf. Campbell, Matls for Hist. of H. VII., ii. 85, 114, 224.

[2] Leland 3, 482. The Obit in Christ Church MS. D. 12 refers to Selling as "Sacrae Theologiae Doctor. Hic in divinis agendis multum devotus et lingua Graeca et Latina valde eruditus."—Gasquet 2, 24,

[3] Gasquet 2, 24; James, li.

[4] Homer and Euripides are in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, the others are in Trinity College, Cambridge.—James 16, 9; Gasquet 2, 30.

There is evidence of Greek studies at other monasteries, —at Westminster after 1465, when Millyng, an "able graecian," became prior at Reading in 1499 and 1500, and at Glastonbury during the time of Abbot Bere.[1]

[1] Gasquet 2, 37.

But Canterbury's share was greatest Selling seems to have taught Greek at Christ Church. In the monastic school there Thomas Linacre was instructed, and probably got the rudiments of Greek from Selling himself. Thence Linacre went to Oxford, where he pursued Greek under Cornelius Vitelli, an Italian visitor acting as praelector in New College.[1] In 1485-6 Linacre went with his old master to Italy—his Sancta Mater Studiorum—where Selling seems to have introduced him to Poliziano. Linacre perfected his Greek pursuits under Chalcondylas, and became acquainted with Aldo Manuzio the famous printer, and Hermolaus Barbarus. A little story is told of his meeting with Hermolaus. He was reading a copy of Plato's Phaedo in the Vatican Library when the great humanist came up to him and said "the youth had no claim, as he had himself, to the title Barbarus, if it were lawful to judge from his choice of a book"—an incident which led to a great friendship between the two. Grocyn and Latimer were with Linacre in Rome. The former was the first to carry on effectively the teaching of Greek begun at Oxford possibly by Vitelli; but he was nevertheless a conservative scholar, well read in the medieval schoolmen, as his library clearly proves. This library is of interest because one hundred and five of the one hundred and twenty-one books in it were printed. The manuscript age is well past, and the costliness of books, the chief obstacle to the dissemination of thought, was soon to give no cause for remark.

[2] The point is disputed; cf. Einstein, 32; Lyte, 386; Camb. Lit., iii. 5, 6; Rashdall and Rait, New. Coll., 93; Dr. Sandys does not mention Vitelli.



CHAPTER X. THE BOOK TRADE

Secular makers of books have plied their trade in Europe since classic times, but during the early age of monachism their numbers were very small and they must have come nigh extinction altogether. In and after the eleventh century they increased in numbers and importance; their ranks being recruited not only by seculars trained in the monastic schools, but by monks who for various reasons had been ejected from their order. These traders were divided into several classes: parchment- makers, scribes, rubrishers or illuminators, bookbinders, and stationers or booksellers. The stationer usually controlled the operations of the other craftsmen; he was the middleman. Scribes were either ordinary scriveners called librarii, or writers who drew up legal documents, known as notarii. But the librarius and notarius often trenched upon each other's work, and consequently a good deal of ill-feeling usually existed between them.

Bookbinders, and booksellers or stationarii, probably first plied their trade most prosperously in England at Oxford and Cambridge. By about 1180 quite a number of such tradesmen were living in Oxford; a single document transferring property in Cat Street bears the names of three illuminators, a bookbinder, a scribe, and two parchmenters.[1]