CONTRAST BETWEEN THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES. SUPPRESSION OF THE MONASTERIES. COMMISSIONERS OF EDWARD VI. SUBSEQUENT CHANGES IN LIBRARY FITTINGS. S. JOHN'S COLLEGE, AND UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, CAMBRIDGE. QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD. LIBRARIES ATTACHED TO CHURCHES AND SCHOOLS. CHAINING IN RECENT TIMES. CHAINS TAKEN OFF.

I have now traced the evolution of the bookcase from a clumsy contrivance consisting of two boards set at an angle to each other, to the stately pieces of furniture which, with but little alteration, are still in use; and I hope that I have succeeded in shewing that the fifteenth century was emphatically the library-era throughout Europe. Monasteries, cathedrals, universities, and secular institutions in general vied with each other in erecting libraries, in stocking them with books, and in framing liberal regulations for making them useful to the public.

To this development of study in all directions the sixteenth century offers a sad and startling contrast. In France the Huguenot movement took the form of a bitter hostility to the clergy—which, after the fashion of that day, exhibited itself in a very general destruction of churches, monasteries, and their contents; while England witnessed the suppression of the Monastic Orders, and the annihilation, so far as was practicable, of all that belonged to them. I have shewn that monastic libraries were the public libraries of the Middle Ages; more than this, the larger houses were centres of culture and education, maintaining schools for children, and sending older students to the Universities. In three years, between 1536 and 1539. the whole system was swept away, as thoroughly as though it had never existed. The buildings were pulled down, and the materials sold; the plate was melted; and the books were either burnt, or put to the vilest uses to which waste literature can be subjected. I will state the case in another way which will bring out more clearly the result of this catastrophe. Upwards of eight hundred monasteries were suppressed, and, as a consequence, eight hundred libraries were done away with, varying in size and importance from Christ Church, Canterbury, with its 2000 volumes, to small houses with little more than the necessary service-books. By the year 1540 the only libraries left in England were those at the two Universities, and in the Cathedrals of the old foundation. Further, the royal commissioners made no attempt to save any of the books with which the monasteries were filled. In France in 1789 the revolutionary leaders sent the libraries of the convents they pillaged to the nearest town: for instance, that of Citeaux to Dijon; of Clairvaux to Troyes; of Corbie to Amiens. But in England at the suppression no such precautions were taken; manuscripts seem to have been at a discount just then, for which the invention of printing may be to some extent responsible; their mercantile value was small; private collectors were few. So the monastic libraries perished, save a few hundred manuscripts which have survived to give us an imperfect notion of what the rest were like.

How great the loss was, has probably been recorded by more than one writer; but for the moment I can think of nothing more graphic than the words of that bitter protestant John Bale, a contemporary who had seen the old libraries, and knew their value. After lamenting that "in turnynge ouer of y^e superstycyouse monasteryes so lytle respect was had to theyr lybraryes for the sauegarde of those noble and precyouse monumentes" (the works of ancient writers), he states what ought to have been done, and what really happened.

The Universities, though untouched by the suppression, were not allowed to remain long at peace. In 1549, commissioners were sent by Edward the Sixth to Oxford and Cambridge. They considered that it fell within their province to reform the libraries as well as those who used them; and they did their work with a thoroughness that under other circumstances would have been worthy of commendation. Anthony Wood[444] has told us in eloquent periods, where sorrow struggles with indignation, how the college libraries were treated; how manuscripts which had nothing superstitious about them except a few rubricated initials, were carried through the city on biers to the market-place and there consumed. Of the treatment meted out to the public library of the University he gives an almost identical account[445]. This library—now the central portion of the Bodleian—had been completed about 1480. It was well stocked with manuscripts of value, the most important of which, in number about 600[446], had been given by Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, between 1439 and 1446. His collection was that of a cultivated layman, and was comparatively poor in theological literature. Yet in this home of all that was noble in literature and splendid in art (for the Duke's copies are said to have been the finest that could be bought) did this crew of ignorant fanatics cry havoc, with such fatal success that only three MSS. now survive; and on January 25, 1555-56, certain members of the Senate were appointed "to sell, in the name of the University, the book-desks in the public library. The books had all disappeared; what need then to retain the shelves and stalls, when no one thought of replacing their contents, and when the University could turn an honest penny by their sale[447]?"

I suppose that in those collegiate and cathedral libraries of which some fragments had been suffered to remain, the gaps caused by the destruction of manuscripts were slowly filled up by printed literature. No new bookcases would be required for many years; and in fact, nearly a century passed away before any novelty in the way of library-fittings makes its appearance. Further, when new libraries came to be built, the provision of suitable furniture was not easy. The old stall, with two shelves loaded with books attached to them by chains, and a desk and seat for the use of the reader, was manifestly no longer adequate, when books could be produced by the rapidity of a printing-press, instead of by the slowness of a writer's hand. And yet, as we shall see, ancient fashions lingered.

So far as I know, the first library built and furnished under these new conditions in England was that of S. John's College, Cambridge. This "curious example of Jacobean Gothic[448]" was built between 1623 and 1628, at the sole charge of Bishop Williams, whose work at Westminster during the same period has been already recorded. The site selected was the ground between the second court of the college and the river, the library-building being constructed as a continuation of the north side of that court, with the library on the first floor, and the chambers intended for the Bishop's Fellows and Scholars on the ground floor.

The room, after the fashion of the older libraries, is long and narrow, 110 ft. in length by 30 ft. in breadth. Each side-wall is pierced with ten lofty pointed windows of two lights with tracery in the head. The sills of these windows are raised 4 ft. above the floor, and the interval between each pair of windows is 3 ft. 8 in. There is also a western oriel, the foundations of which are laid in the river which washes its walls (fig. 109). The name of the founder is commemorated on the central gable by the letters I. L. C. S., the initials of Johannes Lincolniensis Custos Sigilli, the Bishop being at that time keeper of the Great Seal, or, as we should say, Lord Chancellor. The date 1624 marks the completion of the shell of the building[449].

The beautiful fittings (fig. 110), which are still in use, were completed before 1628. Medieval arrangement was not wholly discarded, but various modern features were introduced. The side-walls and window-jambs are panelled to a height of 8 ft.; and the cornice of this panel-work is continuous with that of the taller cases—which, as in the older examples, stand at right angles to the walls between each pair of windows. Before these fittings were constructed, chaining had been practically abandoned, so that it was not necessary to provide either desk or seat. In the place, therefore, of the reader's seat, a low bookcase was set in front of each window. These cases were originally 5 ft. 6 in. high, with a sloping desk on the top on which books could be laid for study. Stools also were provided for the convenience of readers. The larger cases or, as the building-account of the library calls them, "the greater seats," have been a good deal altered in order to accommodate more books. Originally the plinth ran round the sides of the case; as did also the broad member which is seen on the end above the arches. By this arrangement there were in all only four shelves, namely, one below the broad member and three above it. Further, there was a pilaster in the middle, below the central bracket. It should be noted that the medieval habit of placing a list of the books contained in each case at the end of the case is here maintained.

It might have been expected that these splendid cases would have invited imitation, and in those at Clare College the general style was undoubtedly copied. But, as I have already explained[450], those cases were originally genuine specimens of the stall-system, with desks. In other libraries, while a new style of bookcase was put up, we shall find no innovation comparable to that seen at S. John's. This was due, in great measure, to the medieval character of the rooms to be fitted up.

The library at Peterhouse was lengthened in 1633. It is 75 ft. long by 25 ft. broad, and each of its side-walls is pierced by a range of three-light windows. The cases (fig. 111) were put up between 1641 and 1648. Like those at S. John's, they stand at right angles to the walls between the windows, but they are detached, and not continuous with the panelwork. Originally they were just eight feet high, but have since been heightened to accommodate more books. Each case is still divided by a central pilaster. So far they do not present any striking peculiarity, but I wish to draw attention to a curious contrivance, which we shall find subsequently reproduced in various forms, though not exactly as it is seen here; for these cases were evidently admired, and imitated in several other colleges. The chains had been taken off the books at Peterhouse in 1593-94, when they were first moved into the new library; so that desks attached to the cases were not required. Nor were lower cases, with desks at the top of them, provided. But the convenience of the reader was considered, up to a certain point, by the provision of a seat, 12 in. wide and 23 in. high, extending along the side of each case, and returned along the wall between it and the case next to it. This arrangement may still be seen in the two compartments at the west end of the room, one on each side of the door of entrance. The ends of the seat or 'podium,' are concealed by boldly carved wings[451].

The convenience of this type of case was evidently recognised at once, for we find it copied, more or less exactly, in the south room of the University Library (1649); at Jesus College (1663); at Gonville and Caius College (1675); at Emmanuel College (1677); and at Pembroke College (1690).

The south room of the University Library, on the first floor, is 25 ft. wide and was originally 67 ft. long. It was lighted by eight windows in the north wall, and by nine windows in the south wall, each of two lights. There was also a window of four lights in the east gable, as we learn from Loggan's print, and probably a window in the west gable also[452]. It was entered by a door, in the north-east corner, approached by a "vice," or turret-stair. This door was fortunately left intact when the east building was erected in 1755. The room has been but little altered, and still preserves the beautiful roof, the contract for which is dated 25 June, 1466[453].

We do not know anything about the primitive fittings, but, having regard to the fact that the spaces between the windows are barely two feet wide, it is probable that they were lecterns. Moreover, a catalogue, dated 1473, enumerates eight stalls on the north side each containing on an average 21 books, and nine on the south side, each containing 18 books[454]. These numbers, compared with those mentioned above at Zutphen, indicate lecterns.

In the next century this room was assigned to teaching purposes, and the lecterns were either removed or destroyed. In 1645 the University petitioned Parliament to put them in possession of Archbishop Bancroft's library, which he, by will dated 28 October, 1610, had bequeathed to the Public Library of the University of Cambridge, should certain other provisions not be fulfilled. The request was granted, 15 February, 1647, and the books arrived in 1649. The room in question, then used as the Greek School, was ordered, 3 September, 1649, to be "fitted for the disposeall of the said books" without delay. The existing cases were supplied at once, for Fuller, writing in the following year, speaks of them with commendation[455]. Their exact date is therefore known.

These cases (fig. 112) are 8 ft. high from the floor to the top of the horizontal part of the cornice, and 22 in. broad. They have the central pilaster; but the seat has been cut down to a step, which is interrupted in the middle, so as to allow the central pilaster to rise directly from the ground. The wing, however, was too picturesque a feature to be discarded, so it was placed at the end of the step, and carried up, by means of a long slender prolongation, as far as the molding which separates the two panels on the end of the stall.

These cases were exactly copied at Gonville and Caius College; and again at Emmanuel College; but in both those examples the step is continuous. At Jesus College the same type is maintained, with the central pilaster and continuous step; but the work is extremely plain, and there is neither wing nor pediment. At Pembroke College there is a further modification of the type. The step disappears, and, instead of it, a plinth extends along the whole length of the case. The wing, however, remains, as a survival of the lost step, and helps to give dignity to the base of the standard, which is surmounted by a semicircular pediment, beneath which is a band of fruit and flowers in high relief[456].

I will now describe a very interesting bookcase at King's College, Cambridge (fig. 113), which was put up in 1659, with a bequest from Nicholas Hobart, formerly Fellow[457]. It remains in its original position in one of the chapels on the south side of the choir, which were used for library-purposes till the present library was built by Wilkins in 1825. It has several details in common with those at S. John's College, as originally constructed, and will help us to understand their aspect before they were altered. There is a lofty plinth, a broad member interposed between the first and second shelf, a central vertical pilaster; and, as at Peterhouse, and elsewhere, a step or 'podium' with a wing. But, with these resemblances to cases in which books are arranged as at present, it is curious to find the usual indications of chaining, which we know from other sources was not given up in this library until 1777. There are locks on the end of the case just below each of the two shelves, and scars on the vertical pilasters caused by the attachment of the iron-work that carried the bar. Further, just below the broad band, a piece of wood of a different quality has been inserted into the pilasters, evidently to fill up a vacancy caused by the removal of some part of the original structure, probably a desk or shelf.

The antiquary William Cole, writing in 1744, describes these chapels when used as libraries. Each chapel held five bookcases, "two at the extremities, which are but half-cases, and three in the body, of which the middlemost is much loftier than the rest." In the chapel fitted up by Hobart, Cole tells us that "at the end of the biggest middle class is wrote in gold letters Legavit Nicolaus Hobart 1659[458]." As the chapel is only 20 ft. long, the intervals between the cases could hardly have exceeded 2 ft., and as the books were chained they must have been consulted standing.

A similar return to ancient forms is to be found in the library of Queen's College, Oxford, begun in 1692. The architect is said to have been Nicholas Hawkesmoore, to whom the fittings, put up in the first fourteen years of the eighteenth century[459], are also ascribed. This library is 123 ft. long by 30 ft. wide. There are ten bookcases on each side at right angles to the walls between the windows. Each case is about 11 ft. high, and 2 ft. 6 in. wide; but, though their ornamentation is in the style of the period, of which they are splendid examples, their general design exactly reproduces the old type. In their original state they were provided with desks, though there is no evidence that the books were chained; they had only two shelves above that which was on the level of the top of the desk; and there was a double seat between each pair of cases. The space above the second shelf, between it and the cornice, was occupied by a cupboard, handsomely ornamented with carved panels, for small books or manuscripts[460]. In fact, the only innovation which the designer of these remarkable cases permitted himself to employ was to make the moldings of their cornices continuous with that of the panelwork which he carried along the sides of the room, and into the jambs of the windows. The space below the desk was utilised for books, but, as these were found to be inconvenient of access, the desks and seats were taken away in 1871, and dwarf bookcases provided in front of the windows.

When the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury built their library, now called the Howley-Harrison Library, in 1669-70, they constructed a room on strictly medieval lines. It is 65 ft. long by 21 ft. broad, with seven equidistant windows in the north wall and six in the south wall. The bookcases, which are plain medieval stalls, project from the walls at right angles between the windows.

There is another class of libraries which must be briefly mentioned in this chapter, namely, those connected with parish churches and grammar-schools. I suppose that after the destruction of monastic libraries all over the country, the dearth of books would be acutely felt, and that gradually those who had the cause of education at heart established libraries in central situations, to which persons in quest of knowledge might resort.

The library (fig. 114) at Grantham in Lincolnshire occupies a small room, 16 feet from north to south by 14 feet from east to west, over the south porch of the parish church, approached by a newel stair from the south aisle. It was founded in 1598 by the Reverend Francis Trigg, rector of Wellbourn; and in 1642, Edward Skipworth "out of his love and well-wishing to learning, and to encourage the vicars of Grantham to pursue their studies in the winter-time, gave fifty shillings, the yearly interest thereof to provide firewood for the library fire." From this language I conclude that the original gift of books was made for the benefit of the vicar for the time being.

There are three bookcases set against the walls, each about 6 ft. high and 6 ft. long. A considerable number of the books still bear their chains, which are composed of long flat links closely resembling those at Guildford, with a ring and swivel next to the bar. The library—room, bookcases, and books—was carefully restored and repaired in 1894[461].

At Langley Marye or Marish in Buckinghamshire near Slough, a library was founded in 1623 by Sir John Kederminster "as well for the perpetual benefit of the vicar and curate of the parish of Langley, as for all other ministers and preachers of God's Word that would resort thither to make use of the books therein." He placed it under the charge of the four tenants of his almshouses, who were to keep safe the books, and the key of the room, under stringent penalties[462].

The library is a small room on the south side of the church, entered through the squire's pew, to which there is a separate door in the south wall. The fittings are of an unusual character, and have been preserved unaltered. The whole room is panelled at a distance of 15 in. from the wall, so as to make a series of cupboards, in which the books are contained. The doors of these cupboards are divided into panels, alternately square and oblong. Each of the former contains a small figure painted in colours on a black ground; each of the latter a shield, or some heraldic device. The inner surface of these doors is similarly divided into panels, on each of which is painted an open book. Above the cupboards, just under the flat ceiling, is a series of more or less imaginary landscapes, doing duty as a frieze. Over the fireplace is a very beautiful piece of decoration consisting of a large oval shield with various coats of arms painted on it. It is set in an oblong panel, in the spandrels of which are painted seated figures of Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, with their emblems and suitable mottoes[463].

In 1629, the following entry occurs in what is called "the Church Book" of Cartmel, in Lancashire:

The will of Humphry Chetham, a wealthy merchant of Manchester, dated 16 December, 1651, directs £200 to be spent on certain specified books,

The bookcase at Gorton[466] is a cupboard of oak, 7 ft. long by 3 ft. high and 19 in. deep, raised upon four stout legs, 22 in. high. On opening the doors, the interior is seen to be divided into two equal parts by a vertical partition, and again by a horizontal shelf. The shelf and the partition are both 9 in. deep, so as to leave a considerable interval in front of them. The bars—of which there is one for each division—rest in a socket pierced in a small bracket screwed to each end of the case, in such a position that the bar passes just in front of the shelf. A flat piece of iron, nailed to the central division, carries a short hasp, which passes over the junction of the bars, and is there secured by a lock. By this arrangement no person could withdraw either bar without the key. The chains, of iron, tinned, are of the same type as those at Hereford, but the links are rather longer and narrower. They are attached to the volume in the same manner, either near the bottom of the right board, or near the top of the left board. There are scars on the lower edge of the case, and on the legs, which seem to indicate that there might once have been a desk. Otherwise, the books, when read, must have rested on the reader's knees. The whole piece of furniture closely resembles one dated 1694 at Bolton in Lancashire to be described below (fig. 116).

The bookcase at Turton[467] resembles that at Gorton so closely that it needs no particular description. The doors are richly carved, and on the cornice above them is the following inscription, carved in low relief:

THE GIFT OF HUMPHRY CHETHAM ESQVIRE. 1655.

Besides these parochial libraries Mr Chetham directed the foundation (among other things) of "a Library within the Town of Manchester, for the Use of Scholars, and others well affected, to resort unto ... the same Books there to remain as a public Library for ever; and my Mind and Will is, that Care be taken, that none of the said Books be taken out of the said Library at any Time ... the same Books [to] be fixed or chained, as well as may be, within the said Library, for the better Preservation thereof." In order to carry out these provisions the executors bought an ancient building called the College, which is known to have been completed before 1426 by Thomas Lord de la Warre, as a college in connexion with the adjoining collegiate church, now the Cathedral[468]. The library was placed in two long narrow rooms on the first floor, the original destination of which is uncertain. They are at right angles to each other, and have a united length of 137 ft. 6 in., with a breadth of 17 ft. The south and west walls are pierced with fourteen three-light windows, probably inserted by Chetham's executors; the east and west walls are blank.

The existing fittings, though they have been extensively altered[469] from time to time, are in the main those which were originally put up. The bookcases, of oak, are placed in medieval fashion at right angles to the windows. They are 10 ft. long, 2 ft. wide, and were originally 7 ft. high, but have been pieced apparently twice, so that they now reach as high as the wall-plate. Each pair of cases is 6 ft. apart, so as to make a small compartment, closed by wooden gates, which now open in the middle; but a lock attached to one side of the end of each case indicates that originally the gates were in one piece. The cases are quite plain, with the exception of a few panels at the end. On the uppermost of these, which is oblong, and extends from side to side of the case, the subjects of the works are written: as Philosophia; and beneath, in smaller characters, Mathematica, Physica, Metaphysica. All indications of chaining have been obliterated, but a reference to the earliest account-book which has been preserved, that beginning 20 April, 1685, shews that the founder's directions were obeyed:

Chains were evidently kept as a part of the stock-in-trade of the library, to be used as required, for, at the end of an Inventory taken 18 November, 1684, we find:

At Wimborne Minster the books are placed in a small room, about fifteen feet square, over the vestry, a building in the Decorated style, situated between the south transept and the south aisle of the choir. Access to this room is obtained by a turret-stair at the south-west corner. It was fitted up as a library in 1686, when the greater part of the books were given by the Rev. William Stone. There are two plain wooden shelves, carried round three sides of the room. The chains are attached to the right-hand board of each book, instead of to the left-hand board, and they are made of iron wire, twisted as shewn in the sketch (fig. 115). The swivel, instead of being central, plays in a twist of the wire which forms the ring attached to the book. The iron bars are supported on eyes, and are secured by a tongue of iron passed over a staple fixed into the bracket which supports the shelf. The tongue was originally kept in its place by a padlock, now replaced by a wooden peg. No desk was attached to the shelves, but in lieu of it a portable desk and stool were provided[470].

A library was built over the porch of the parish church at Denchworth[471], Berks, in 1693, and "stocked with 100 books well secured with chains," presumably for the use of the vicar and his successors; and in 1715, William Brewster, M.D., bequeathed 285 volumes to the churchwardens of All Saints' Church, Hereford, for the same purpose[472]. The books were placed in the vestry, where they still are. They are all chained on a system copied from that in use at the Chapter Library.

In addition to collections of books, which varied in extent according to the taste, or the means, of the donor, single volumes are often found chained in churches. These do not come within the scope of this Essay, and I will therefore pass on to notice some libraries connected with Grammar Schools.

At Abingdon in Berkshire, the school, founded 1563, had a library, some volumes of which, bearing their chains, are still preserved. There was a similar collection at Bicester in Oxfordshire, where a school is said to have been in existence before 1570. In 1571 James Pilkington, Bishop of Durham (1561-1577), by will dated 4 February in that year, bequeathed his books to the school at Rivington in Lancashire. The following extracts from the statutes, said to have been made shortly after the arrival of the books, remind us of monastic provisions[473].

In 1573 John Parkhurst, Bishop of Norwich (1560-1575), bequeathed "the most part" of his Latin books to his native town Guildford, to be placed in "the Lybrarie of the same Towne ioyning to the Schole." These books, after some legal difficulties had been overcome, were brought to Guildford, and placed in a gallery which connected the two wings of the school, and had been begun in 1571. The books were fastened to the shelves with chains, one of which has been already figured (fig. 58). There is evidence that the library was well cared for, and augmented by various donations, which were regularly chained as they came in, down to the end of the 17th century[474].

Henry Bury, founder of the free school at Bury in Lancashire in 1625, directed in his will that a convenient place should be found for the library, because, as he proceeds to say:

This language shews that this provident benefactor intended his library to be public. It is pleasant to be able to record that some of the books which he gave are still in existence[475].

Lastly I will figure (fig. 116) the press given in 1694 by "James Leaver citison of London," to the Grammar School at Bolton in Lancashire. It closely resembles those given by Humphry Chetham to Turton and Gorton. The system of ironwork by which the bars are kept in place is exactly the same; and it retains the desk, traces of which exist at Gorton.

In my enumeration of the libraries attached to schools and churches, I have drawn special attention to the fact that in nearly all of them the books were chained. In explanation of this it might be argued that these libraries were in remote places, to which new ideas would not easily penetrate, but I am about to shew that this method of protection, which began in a remote past, was maintained with strange persistency down to modern times. I shall collect some further instances of the chaining of books in places where it might have been expected that such things would be no longer thought of; and in conclusion I shall record some dates at which the final removal of chains took place.

In the library of the Faculty of Medicine, Paris, the books were ordered to be chained in 1509, in consequence of some thefts; and these chains were still attached to certain books in 1770[476]. At Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, in 1554, it was ordered that the books bequeathed by Peter Nobys, D.D. (Master 1516-23), should be taken better care of for the future, and, if the chains were broken, that they should be repaired at the expense of the college[477]. In 1555, Robert Chaloner, Esq., bequeathed his law books to Gray's Inn, with forty shillings in money, to be paid to his cousin, "to th' entent that he maie by cheines therwith and fasten so manye of them in the Librarye at Grauisin [Gray's Inn] as he shall think convenyente[478]."

At S. John's College, Cambridge, in 1563-4, three shillings were paid to "Phillip Stacyoner for cornering, bossing, and chayninge Anatomiam Vessalii etc.[479]" In 1573, Dr Caius directs by will twelve copies of his own works to be given to his college, "there to be kepte as the other bokes are, and to be successivelye tyed with chaynes in the Librarye of the same College[480]." Dr Perne, Master of Peterhouse, by will dated 25 February, 1588, directs that all his books therein bequeathed "be layed and chayned in the old Librarie of the Colledge[481]." At Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1601, Mr Peter Shaw gave £5 towards the "cheyning and desking of his bookes given to the newe liberarie[482]." In 1638-9, when a new library was completed for the Barber Surgeons of London, £6. 18s. were spent on binding and chaining, as for instance:

Paid for 36 yards of chaine at 4d. the yard and 36 yards at 3d. the yard cometh to xxijs. vjd.

Paid to the coppersmith for castinge 80 brasses to fasten the chaines to the bookes—xiijs. iiijd.[483]