BIBLIOMANIA

in

THE MIDDLE AGES

by

F. SOMNER MERRYWEATHER

With an Introduction by

CHARLES ORR

Librarian of Case Library

NEW YORK

MEYER BROTHERS & COMPANY

1900

Copyright, 1900

By Meyer Bros. & Co.

Louis Weiss & Co.

Printers....

118 Fulton Street

... New York

Bibliomania in the Middle Ages

or

SKETCHES OF BOOKWORMS, COLLECTORS, BIBLE STUDENTS, SCRIBES AND ILLUMINATORS

From the Anglo-Saxon and Norman Periods to the Introduction of Printing

into England, with Anecdotes Illustrating the History of the

Monastic Libraries of Great Britain in the Olden Time

by F. Somner Merryweather, with

an Introduction by Charles Orr,

Librarian of Case Library.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

n every century for more than two thousand years, many men have owed their chief enjoyment of life to books. The bibliomaniac of today had his prototype in ancient Rome, where book collecting was fashionable as early as the first century of the Christian era. Four centuries earlier there was an active trade in books at Athens, then the center of the book production of the world. This center of literary activity shifted to Alexandria during the third century b. c. through the patronage of Ptolemy Soter, the founder of the Alexandrian Museum, and of his son, Ptolemy Philadelphus; and later to Rome, where it remained for many centuries, and where bibliophiles and bibliomaniacs were gradually evolved, and from whence in time other countries were invaded.

For the purposes of the present work the middle ages cover the period beginning with the seventh century and ending with the time of the invention of printing, or about seven hundred years, though they are more accurately bounded by the years 500 and 1500 a. d. It matters little, however, since there is no attempt at chronological arrangement.

About the middle of the present century there began to be a disposition to grant to mediæval times their proper place in the history of the preservation and dissemination of books, and Merryweather's Bibliomania in the Middle Ages was one of the earliest works in English devoted to the subject. Previous to that time, those ten centuries lying between the fall of the Roman Empire and the revival of learning were generally referred to as the Dark Ages, and historians and other writers were wont to treat them as having been without learning or scholarship of any kind.

Even Mr. Hallam,[1] with all that judicial temperament and patient research to which we owe so much, could find no good to say of the Church or its institutions, characterizing the early university as the abode of "indigent vagabonds withdrawn from usual labor," and all monks as positive enemies of learning.

The gloomy survey of Mr. Hallam, clouded no doubt by his antipathy to all things ecclesiastical, served, however, to arouse the interest of the period, which led to other studies with different results, and later writers were able to discern below the surface of religious fanaticism and superstition so characteristic of those centuries, much of interest in the history of literature; to show that every age produced learned and inquisitive men by whom books were highly prized and industriously collected for their own sakes; in short, to rescue the period from the stigma of absolute illiteracy.

If the reader cares to pursue the subject further, after going through the fervid defense of the love of books in the middle ages, of which this is the introduction, he will find outside of its chapters abundant evidence that the production and care of books was a matter of great concern. In the pages of Mores Catholici; or Ages of Faith, by Mr. Kenelm Digby,[2] or of The Dark Ages, by Dr. S. R. Maitland,[3] or of that great work of recent years, Books and their Makers during the Middle Ages, by Mr. George Haven Putnam,[4] he will see vivid and interesting portraits of a great multitude of mediæval worthies who were almost lifelong lovers of learning and books, and zealous laborers in preserving, increasing and transmitting them. And though little of the mass that has come down to us was worthy of preservation on its own account as literature, it is exceedingly interesting as a record of centuries of industry in the face of such difficulties that to workers of a later period might have seemed insurmountable.

A further fact worthy of mention is that book production was from the art point of view fully abreast of the other arts during the period, as must be apparent to any one who examines the collections in some of the libraries of Europe. Much of this beauty was wrought for the love of the art itself. In the earlier centuries religious institutions absorbed nearly all the social intellectual movements as well as the possession of material riches and land. Kings and princes were occupied with distant wars which impoverished them and deprived literature and art of that patronage accorded to it in later times. There is occasional mention, however, of wealthy laymen, whose religious zeal induced them to give large sums of money for the copying and ornamentation of books; and there were in the abbeys and convents lay brothers whose fervent spirits, burning with poetical imagination, sought in these monastic retreats and the labor of writing, redemption from their past sins. These men of faith were happy to consecrate their whole existence to the ornamentation of a single sacred book, dedicated to the community, which gave them in exchange the necessaries of life.

The labor of transcribing was held, in the monasteries, to be a full equivalent of manual labor in the field. The rule of St. Ferreol, written in the sixth century, says that, "He who does not turn up the earth with the plough ought to write the parchment with his fingers."

Mention has been made of the difficulties under which books were produced; and this is a matter which we who enjoy the conveniences of modern writing and printing can little understand. The hardships of the scriptorium were greatest, of course, in winter. There were no fires in the often damp and ill-lighted cells, and the cold in some of the parts of Europe where books were produced must have been very severe. Parchment, the material generally used for writing upon after the seventh century, was at some periods so scarce that copyists were compelled to resort to the expedient of effacing the writing on old and less esteemed manuscripts.[5] The form of writing was stiff and regular and therefore exceedingly slow and irksome.

In some of the monasteries the scriptorium was at least at a later period, conducted more as a matter of commerce, and making of books became in time very profitable. The Church continued to hold the keys of knowledge and to control the means of productions; but the cloistered cell, where the monk or the layman, who had a penance to work off for a grave sin, had worked in solitude, gave way to the apartment specially set aside, where many persons could work together, usually under the direction of a librarius or chief scribe. In the more carefully constructed monasteries this apartment was so placed as to adjoin the calefactory, which allowed the introduction of hot air, when needed.

The seriousness with which the business of copying was considered is well illustrated by the consecration of the scriptorium which was often done in words which may be thus translated: "Vouchsafe, O Lord, to bless this work-room of thy servants, that all which they write therein may be comprehended by their intelligence and realized in their work."

While the work of the scribes was largely that of copying the scriptures, gospels, and books of devotion required for the service of the church, there was a considerable trade in books of a more secular kind. Particularly was this so in England. The large measure of attention given to the production of books of legends and romances was a distinguishing feature of the literature of England at least three centuries previous to the invention of printing. At about the twelfth century and after, there was a very large production and sale of books under such headings as chronicles, satires, sermons, works of science and medicine, treatises on style, prose romances and epics in verse. Of course a large proportion of these were written in or translated from the Latin, the former indicating a pretty general knowledge of that language among those who could buy or read books at all. That this familiarity with the Latin tongue was not confined to any particular country is abundantly shown by various authorities.

Mr. Merryweather, whose book, as has been intimated, is only a defense of bibliomania itself as it actually existed in the middle ages, gives the reader but scant information as to processes of book-making at that time. But thanks to the painstaking research of others, these details are now a part of the general knowledge of the development of the book. The following, taken from Mr. Theodore De Vinne's Invention of Printing, will, we think, be found interesting:

"The size most in fashion was that now known as the demy folio, of which the leaf is about ten inches wide and fifteen inches long, but smaller sizes were often made. The space to be occupied by the written text was mapped out with faint lines, so that the writer could keep his letters on a line, at even distance from each other and within the prescribed margin. Each letter was carefully drawn, and filled in or painted with repeated touches of the pen. With good taste, black ink was most frequently selected for the text; red ink was used only for the more prominent words, and the catch-letters, then known as the rubricated letters. Sometimes texts were written in blue, green, purple, gold or silver inks, but it was soon discovered that texts in bright color were not so readable as texts in black.

"When the copyist had finished his sheet he passed it to the designer, who sketched the border, pictures and initials. The sheet was then given to the illuminator, who painted it. The ornamentation of a mediæval book of the first class is beyond description by words or by wood cuts. Every inch of space was used. Its broad margins were filled with quaint ornaments, sometimes of high merit, admirably painted in vivid colors. Grotesque initials, which, with their flourishes, often spanned the full height of the page, or broad bands of floriated tracery that occupied its entire width, were the only indications of changes of chapter or subject. In printer's phrase the composition was "close-up and solid" to the extreme degree of compactness. The uncommonly free use of red ink for the smaller initials was not altogether a matter of taste; if the page had been written entirely in black ink it would have been unreadable through its blackness. This nicety in writing consumed much time, but the mediæval copyist was seldom governed by considerations of time or expense. It was of little consequence whether the book he transcribed would be finished in one or in ten years. It was required only that he should keep at his work steadily and do his best. His skill is more to be commended than his taste. Many of his initials and borders were outrageously inappropriate for the text for which they were designed. The gravest truths were hedged in the most childish conceits. Angels, butterflies, goblins, clowns, birds, snails and monkeys, sometimes in artistic, but much oftener in grotesque and sometimes in highly offensive positions are to be found in the illuminated borders of copies of the gospels and writings of the fathers.

"The book was bound by the forwarder, who sewed the leaves and put them in a cover of leather or velvet; by the finisher, who ornamented the cover with gilding and enamel. The illustration of book binding, published by Amman in his Book of Trades, puts before us many of the implements still in use. The forwarder, with his customary apron of leather, is in the foreground, making use of a plow-knife for trimming the edges of a book. The lying press, which rests obliquely against the block before him, contains a book that has received the operation of backing-up from a queer shaped hammer lying upon the floor. The workman at the end of the room is sewing together the sections of a book, for sewing was properly regarded as a man's work, and a scientific operation altogether beyond the capacity of the raw seamstress. The work of the finisher is not represented, but the brushes, the burnishers, the sprinklers and the wheel-shaped gilding tools hanging against the wall leave us no doubt as to their use. There is an air of antiquity about everything connected with this bookbindery which suggests the thought that its tools and usages are much older than those of printing. Chevillier says that seventeen professional bookbinders found regular employment in making up books for the University of Paris, as early as 1292. Wherever books were produced in quantities, bookbinding was set apart as a business distinct from that of copying.

"The poor students who copied books for their own use were also obliged to bind them, which they did in a simple but efficient manner by sewing together the folded sheets, attaching them to narrow parchment bands, the ends of which were made to pass through a cover of stout parchment at the joint near the back. The ends of the bands were then pasted down under the stiffening sheet of the cover, and the book was pressed. Sometimes the cover was made flexible by the omission of the stiffening sheet; sometimes the edges of the leaves were protected by flexible and overhanging flaps which were made to project over the covers; or by the insertion in the covers of stout leather strings with which the two covers were tied together. Ornamentation was entirely neglected, for a book of this character was made for use and not for show. These methods of binding were mostly applied to small books intended for the pocket; the workmanship was rough, but the binding was strong and serviceable."

The book of Mr. Merryweather, here reprinted, is thought worthy of preservation in a series designed for the library of the booklover. Its publication followed shortly after that of the works of Digby and Maitland, but shows much original research and familiarity with early authorities; and it is much more than either of these, or of any book with which we are acquainted, a plea in defense of bibliomania in the middle ages. Indeed the charm of the book may be said to rest largely upon the earnestness with which he takes up his self-imposed task. One may fancy that after all he found it not an easy one; in fact his "Conclusion" is a kind of apology for not having made out a better case. But this he believes he has proven, "that with all their superstition, with all their ignorance, their blindness to philosophic light—the monks of old were hearty lovers of books; that they encouraged learning, fostered it, and transcribed repeatedly the books which they had rescued from the destruction of war and time; and so kindly cherished and husbanded them as intellectual food for posterity. Such being the case, let our hearts look charitably upon them; and whilst we pity them for their superstition, or blame them for their pious frauds, love them as brother men and workers in the mines of literature."

Of the author himself little can be learned. A diligent search revealed little more than the entry in the London directory which, in various years from 1840 to 1850, gives his occupation as that of bookseller, at 14 King Street, Holborn. Indeed this is shown by the imprint of the title-page of Bibliomania, which was published in 1849. He published during the same year Dies Dominicæ, and in 1850 Glimmerings in the Dark, and Lives and Anecdotes of Misers. The latter has been immortalized by Charles Dickens as one of the books bought at the bookseller's shop by Boffin, the Golden Dustman, and which was read to him by the redoubtable Silas Wegg during Sunday evenings at "Boffin's Bower."[6]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Hallam, Henry. "Introduction to the Literature of Europe." 4 vols. London.

[2] Digby, Kenelm. "Mores Catholici; or Ages of Faith." 3 vols. London, 1848.

[3] Maitland, S. R. "The Dark Ages; a Series of Essays Intended to Illustrate the State of Religion and Literature in the Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries." London, 1845.

[4] Putnam, George Haven. "Books and their Makers during the Middle Ages; a Study of the Conditions of the Production and Distribution of Literature from the Fall of the Roman Empire to the Close of the Seventeenth Century."

[5] Lacroix, Paul. "Arts of the Middle Ages." Our author, however (vide page 58, note), quotes the accounts of the Church of Norwich to show that parchments sold late in the thirteenth century at about 1 d. per sheet; but Putnam and other writers state that up to that time it was a very costly commodity.

[6] Dickens's Mutual Friend.

CHAPTER I

Introductory Remarks—Monachism—Book Destroyers—Effects of the Reformation on Monkish Learning, etc.

n recent times, in spite of all those outcries which have been so repeatedly raised against the illiterate state of the dark ages, many and valuable efforts have been made towards a just elucidation of those monkish days. These labors have produced evidence of what few anticipated, and some even now deny, viz., that here and there great glimmerings of learning are perceivable; and although debased, and often barbarous too, they were not quite so bad as historians have usually proclaimed them. It may surprise some, however, that an attempt should be made to prove that, in the olden time in "merrie Englande," a passion which Dibdin has christened Bibliomania, existed then, and that there were many cloistered bibliophiles as warm and enthusiastic in book collecting as the Doctor himself. But I must here crave the patience of the reader, and ask him to refrain from denouncing what he may deem a rash and futile attempt, till he has perused the volume and thought well upon the many facts contained therein. I am aware that many of these facts are known to all, but some, I believe, are familiar only to the antiquary—the lover of musty parchments and the cobwebbed chronicles of a monastic age. I have endeavored to bring these facts together—to connect and string them into a continuous narrative, and to extract from them some light to guide us in forming an opinion on the state of literature in those ages of darkness and obscurity; and here let it be understood that I merely wish to give a fact as history records it. I will not commence by saying the Middle Ages were dark and miserably ignorant, and search for some poor isolated circumstance to prove it; I will not affirm that this was pre-eminently the age in which real piety flourished and literature was fondly cherished, and strive to find all those facts which show its learning, purposely neglecting those which display its unlettered ignorance: nor let it be deemed ostentation when I say that the literary anecdotes and bookish memoranda now submitted to the reader have been taken, where such a course was practicable, from the original sources, and the references to the authorities from whence they are derived have been personally consulted and compared.

That the learning of the Middle Ages has been carelessly represented there can be little doubt: our finest writers in the paths of history have employed their pens in denouncing it; some have allowed difference of opinion as regards ecclesiastical policy to influence their conclusions; and because the poor scribes were monks, the most licentious principles, the most dismal ignorance and the most repulsive crimes have been attributed to them. If the monks deserved such reproaches from posterity, they have received no quarter; if they possessed virtues as christians, and honorable sentiments as men, they have met with no reward in the praise or respect of this liberal age: they were monks! superstitious priests and followers of Rome! What good could come of them? It cannot be denied that there were crimes perpetrated by men aspiring to a state of holy sanctity; there are instances to be met with of priests violating the rules of decorum and morality; of monks revelling in the dissipating pleasures of sensual enjoyments, and of nuns whose frail humanity could not maintain the purity of their virgin vows. But these instances are too rare to warrant the slanders and scurrility that historians have heaped upon them. And when we talk of the sensuality of the monks, of their gross indulgences and corporeal ease, we surely do so without discrimination; for when we speak of the middle ages thus, our thoughts are dwelling on the sixteenth century, its mocking piety and superstitious absurdity; but in the olden time of monastic rule, before monachism had burst its ancient boundaries, there was surely nothing physically attractive in the austere and dull monotony of a cloistered life. Look at the monk; mark his hard, dry studies, and his midnight prayers, his painful fasting and mortifying of the flesh; what can we find in this to tempt the epicure or the lover of indolence and sloth? They were fanatics, blind and credulous—I grant it. They read gross legends, and put faith in traditionary lies—I grant it; but do not say, for history will not prove it, that in the middle ages the monks were wine bibbers and slothful gluttons. But let not the Protestant reader be too hastily shocked. I am not defending the monastic system, or the corruption of the cloister—far from it. I would see the usefulness of man made manifest to the world; but the measure of my faith teaches charity and forgiveness, and I can find in the functions of the monk much that must have been useful in those dark days of feudal tyranny and lordly despotism. We much mistake the influence of the monks by mistaking their position; we regard them as a class, but forget from whence they sprang; there was nothing aristocratic about them, as their constituent parts sufficiently testify; they were, perhaps, the best representatives of the people that could be named, being derived from all classes of society. Thus Offa, the Saxon king, and Cædman, the rustic herdsman, were both monks. These are examples by no means rare, and could easily be multiplied. Such being the case, could not the monks more readily feel and sympathize with all, and more clearly discern the frailties of their brother man, and by kind admonition or stern reproof, mellow down the ferocity of a Saxon nature, or the proud heart of a Norman tyrant? But our object is not to analyze the social influence of Monachism in the middle ages: much might be said against it, and many evils traced to the sad workings of its evil spirit, but still withal something may be said in favor of it, and those who regard its influence in those days alone may find more to admire and defend than they expected, or their Protestant prejudices like to own.

But, leaving these things, I have only to deal with such remains as relate to the love of books in those times. I would show the means then in existence of acquiring knowledge, the scarcity or plentitude of books, the extent of their libraries, and the rules regulating them; and bring forward those facts which tend to display the general routine of a literary monk, or the prevalence of Bibliomania in those days.

It is well known that the great national and private libraries of Europe possess immense collections of manuscripts, which were produced and transcribed in the monasteries, during the middle ages, thousands there are in the rich alcoves of the Vatican at Rome, unknown save to a choice and favored few; thousands there are in the royal library of France, and thousands too reposing on the dusty shelves of the Bodleian and Cottonian libraries in England; and yet, these numbers are but a small portion—a mere relic—of the intellectual productions of a past and obscure age.[7] The barbarians, who so frequently convulsed the more civilized portions of Europe, found a morbid pleasure in destroying those works which bore evidence to the mental superiority of their enemies. In England, the Saxons, the Danes, and the Normans were each successively the destroyers of literary productions. The Saxon Chronicle, that invaluable repository of the events of so many years, bears ample testimony to numerous instances of the loss of libraries and works of art, from fire, or by the malice of designing foes. At some periods, so general was this destruction, so unquenchable the rapacity of those who caused it, that instead of feeling surprised at the manuscripts of those ages being so few and scanty, we have cause rather to wonder that so many have been preserved. For even the numbers which escaped the hands of the early and unlettered barbarians met with an equally ignominious fate from those for whom it would be impossible to hold up the darkness of their age as a plausible excuse for the commission of this egregious folly. These men over whose sad deeds the bibliophile sighs with mournful regret, were those who carried out the Reformation, so glorious in its results; but the righteousness of the means by which those results were effected are very equivocal indeed. When men form themselves into a faction and strive for the accomplishment of one purpose, criminal deeds are perpetrated with impunity, which, individually they would blush and scorn to do; they feel no direct responsibility, no personal restraint; and, such as possess fierce passions, under the cloak of an organized body, give them vent and gratification; and those whose better feelings lead them to contemplate upon these things content themselves with the conclusion, that out of evil cometh good.

The noble art of printing was unable, with all its rapid movements, to rescue from destruction the treasures of the monkish age; the advocates of the Reformation eagerly sought for and as eagerly destroyed those old popish volumes, doubtless there was much folly, much exaggerated superstition pervading them; but there was also some truth, a few facts worth knowing, and perhaps a little true piety also, and it would have been no difficult matter to have discriminated between the good and the bad. But the careless grants of a licentious monarch conferred a monastery on a court favorite or political partizan without one thought for the preservation of its contents. It is true a few years after the dissolution of these houses, the industrious Leland was appointed to search and rummage over their libraries and to preserve any relic worthy of such an honor; but it was too late, less learned hands had rifled those parchment collections long ago, mutilated their finest volumes by cutting out with childish pleasure the illuminations with which they were adorned; tearing off the bindings for the gold claps which protected the treasures within,[8] and chopping up huge folios as fuel for their blazing hearths, and immense collections were sold as waste paper. Bale, a strenuous opponent of the monks, thus deplores the loss of their books: "Never had we bene offended for the losse of our lybraryes beynge so many in nombre and in so desolate places for the moste parte, yf the chief monuments and moste notable workes of our excellent wryters had bene reserved, yf there had bene in every shyre of Englande but one solemyne library to the preservacyon of those noble workers, and preferrement of good learnynges in oure posteryte it had bene yet somewhat. But to destroye all without consyderacion, is and wyll be unto Englande for ever a most horryble infamy amonge the grave senyours of other nations. A grete nombre of them whych purchased those superstycyose mansyons reserved of those lybrarye bokes, some to serve theyr jakes, some to scoure theyr candelstyckes, and some to rubbe theyr bootes; some they solde to the grossers and sope sellers, and some they sent over see to the bokebynders,[9] not in small nombre, but at tymes whole shippes ful. I know a merchant man, whyche shall at thys tyme be nameless, that boughte the contents of two noble lybraryes for xl shyllyngs pryce, a shame is it to be spoken. Thys stuffe hathe he occupyed in the stide of graye paper for the space of more than these ten years, and yet hath store ynough for as many years to come. A prodyguose example is this, and to be abhorred of all men who love theyr natyon as they shoulde do."[10]

However pernicious the Roman religion might have been in its practice, it argues little to the honor of the reformers to have used such means as this to effect its cure; had they merely destroyed those productions connected with the controversies of the day, we might perhaps have excused it, on the score of party feeling; but those who were commissioned to visit the public libraries of the kingdom were often men of prejudiced intellects and shortsighted wisdom, and it frequently happened that an ignorant and excited mob became the executioners of whole collections.[11] It would be impossible now to estimate the loss. Manuscripts of ancient and classic date would in their hands receive no more respect than some dry husky folio on ecclesiastical policy; indeed, they often destroyed the works of their own party through sheer ignorance. In a letter sent by Dr. Cox to William Paget, Secretary, he writes that the proclamation for burning books had been the occasion of much hurt. "For New Testaments and Bibles (not condemned by proclamation) have been burned, and that, out of parish churches and good men's houses. They have burned innumerable of the king's majesties books concerning our religion lately set forth."[12] The ignorant thus delighted to destroy that which they did not understand, and the factional spirit of the more enlightened would not allow them to make one effort for the preservation of those valuable relics of early English literature, which crowded the shelves of the monastic libraries; the sign of the cross, the use of red letters on the title page, the illuminations representing saints, or the diagrams and circles of a mathematical nature, were at all times deemed sufficient evidence of their popish origin and fitness for the flames.[13]

When we consider the immense number of MSS. thus destroyed, we cannot help suspecting that, if they had been carefully preserved and examined, many valuable and original records would have been discovered. The catalogues of old monastic establishments, although containing a great proportion of works on divine and ecclesiastical learning, testify that the monks did not confine their studies exclusively to legendary tales or superstitious missals, but that they also cultivated a taste for classical and general learning. Doubtless, in the ruin of the sixteenth century, many original works of monkish authors perished, and the splendor of the transcript rendered it still more liable to destruction; but I confess, as old Fuller quaintly says, that "there were many volumes full fraught with superstition which, notwithstanding, might be useful to learned men, except any will deny apothecaries the privilege of keeping poison in their shops, when they can make antidotes of them. But besides this, what beautiful bibles! Rare fathers! Subtle schoolmen! Useful historians! Ancient! Middle! Modern! What painful comments were here amongst them! What monuments of mathematics all massacred together!"[14]

More than a cart load of manuscripts were taken away from Merton College and destroyed, and a vast number from the Baliol and New Colleges, Oxford;[15] but these instances might be infinitely multiplied, so terrible were those intemperate outrages. All this tends to enforce upon us the necessity of using considerable caution in forming an opinion of the nature and extent of learning prevalent during those ages which preceded the discovery of the art of printing.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] The sad page in the Annals of Literary History recording the destruction of books and MSS. fully prove this assertion. In France, in the year 1790, 4,194,000 volumes were burnt belonging to the suppressed monasteries, about 25,000 of these were manuscripts.

[8] "About this time (Feb. 25, 1550) the Council book mentions the king's sending a letter for the purging his library at Westminster. The persons are not named, but the business was to cull out all superstitious books, as missals, legends, and such like, and to deliver the garniture of the books, being either gold or silver, to Sir Anthony Aucher. These books were many of them plated with gold and silver and curiously embossed. This, as far as we can collect, was the superstition that destroyed them. Here avarice had a very thin disguise, and the courtiers discovered of what spirit they were to a remarkable degree."—Collier's Eccle. History, vol. ii. p. 307.

[9] Any one who can inspect a library of ancient books will find proof of this. A collection of vellum scraps which I have derived from these sources are very exciting to a bibliomaniac, a choice line so abruptly broken, a monkish or classical verse so cruelly mutilated! render an inspection of this odd collection, a tantalizing amusement.

[10] Bale's Leland's Laboryouse Journey, Preface.

[11] The works of the Schoolmen, viz.: of P. Lombard, T. Aquinas, Scotus and his followers and critics also, and such that had popish scholars in them they cast out of all college libraries and private studies.—Wood's Hist. Oxon., vol. i. b. 1. p. 108. And "least their impiety and foolishness in this act should be further wanting, they brought it to pass that certain rude young men should carry this great spoil of books about the city on biers, which being so done, to set them down in the common market place, and then burn them, to the sorrow of many, as well as of the Protestants as of the other party. This was by them styled 'the funeral of Scotus the Scotists.' So that at this time and all this king's reign was seldom seen anything in the universities but books of poetry, grammar, idle songs, and frivolous stuff."—Ibid., Wood is referring to the reign of Edward VI.

[12] Wood's Hist. Oxon, b. i. p. 81.

[13] "Gutch has printed in his 'Collectiana' an order from the Queen's commissioners to destroy all capes, vestments, albes, missals, books, crosses, and such other idolatrous and superstitious monuments whatsoever.'—vol. ii. p. 280."

[14] Fuller's Church History, b. vi. p. 335.

[15] Wood's Oxon, vol. i. b. i. p. 107

CHAPTER II

Duties of the monkish librarian.—Rules of the library.—Lending books.—Books allowed the monks for private reading.—Ridiculous signs for books.—How the libraries were supported.—A monkish blessing on books, etc.

n this chapter I shall proceed to inquire into the duties of the monkish amanuensis, and show by what laws and regulations the monastic libraries were governed. The monotonous habits of a cloistered bibliophile will, perhaps, appear dry and fastidious, but still it is curious and interesting to observe how carefully the monks regarded their vellum tomes, how indefatigably they worked to increase their stores, and how eagerly they sought for books. But besides being regarded as a literary curiosity, the subject derives importance by the light it throws on the state of learning in those dark and "bookless" days, and the illustrations gleaned in this way fully compensate for the tediousness of the research.

As a bibliophile it is somewhat pleasing to trace a deep book passion growing up in the barrenness of the cloister, and to find in some cowled monk a bibliomaniac as warm and enthusiastic in his way as the renowned "Atticus," or the noble Roxburghe, of more recent times. It is true we can draw no comparison between the result of their respective labors. The hundreds, which in the old time were deemed a respectable if not an extensive collection, would look insignificant beside the ostentatious array of modern libraries.

But the very tenor of a monastic life compelled the monk to seek the sweet yet silent companionship of books; the rules of his order and the regulations of his fraternity enforced the strictest silence in the execution of his daily and never-ceasing duties. Attending mass, singing psalms, and midnight prayers, were succeeded by mass, psalms and prayers in one long undeviating round of yearly obligations; the hours intervening between these holy exercises were dull and tediously insupportable if unoccupied. Conversation forbidden, secular amusements denounced, yet idleness reproached, what could the poor monk seek as a relief in this distress but the friendly book; the willing and obedient companion of every one doomed to lonely hours and dismal solitude?

The pride and glory of a monastery was a well stored library, which was committed to the care of the armarian, and with him rested all the responsibility of its preservation. According to the Consuetudines Canonicorum Regularium, it was his duty to have all the books of the monastery in his keeping catalogued and separately marked with their proper names.[16] Some of these old catalogues have been preserved, and, viewed as bibliographical remains of the middle ages, are of considerable importance; indeed, we cannot form a correct idea of the literature of those remote times without them. Many productions of authors are recorded in these brief catalogues whose former existence is only known to us by these means. There is one circumstance in connexion with them that must not be forgotten: instead of enumerating all the works which each volume contained, they merely specified the first, so that a catalogue of fifty or a hundred volumes might probably have contained nearly double that number of distinct works. I have seen MSS. formerly belonging to monasteries, which have been catalogued in this way, containing four or five others, besides the one mentioned. Designed rather to identify the book than to describe the contents of each volume, they wrote down the first word or two of the second leaf—this was the most prevalent usage; but they often adopted other means, sometimes giving a slight notice of the works which a volume contained; others took the precaution of noting down the last word of the last leaf but one,[17] a great advantage, as the monkish student could more easily detect at a glance whether the volume was perfect. The armarian was, moreover, particularly enjoined to inspect with scrupulous care the more ancient volumes, lest the moth-worms should have got at them, or they had become corrupt or mutilated, and, if such were the case, he was with great care to restore them. Probably the armarian was also the bookbinder to the monastery in ordinary cases, for he is here directed to cover the volumes with tablets of wood, that the inside may be preserved from moisture, and the parchment from the injurious effects of dampness. The different orders of books were to be kept separate from one another, and conveniently arranged; not squeezed too tight, lest it should injure or confuse them, but so placed that they might be easily distinguished, and those who sought them might find them without delay or impediment.[18] Bibliomaniacs have not been remarkable for their memory or punctuality, and in the early times the borrower was often forgetful to return the volume within the specified time. To guard against this, many rules were framed, nor was the armarian allowed to lend the books, even to neighboring monasteries, unless he received a bond or promise to restore them within a certain time, and if the person was entirely unknown, a book of equal value was required as a security for its safe return. In all cases the armarian was instructed to make a short memorandum of the name of the book which he had lent or received. The "great and precious books" were subject to still more stringent rules, and although under the conservation of the librarian, he had not the privilege of lending them to any one without the distinct permission of the abbot.[19] This was, doubtless, practised by all the monastic libraries, for all generously lent one another their books. In a collection of chapter orders of the prior and convent of Durham, bearing date 1235, it is evident that a similar rule was observed there, which they were not to depart from except at the desire of the bishop.[20] According to the constitutions for the government of the Abingdon monastery, the library was under the care of the Cantor, and all the writings of the church were consigned to his keeping. He was not allowed to part with the books or lend them without a sufficient deposit as a pledge for their safe return, except to persons of consequence and repute.[21] This was the practice at a much later period. When that renowned bibliomaniac, Richard de Bury, wrote his delightful little book called Philobiblon, the same rules were strictly in force. With respect to the lending of books, his own directions are that, if any one apply for a particular volume, the librarian was to carefully consider whether the library contained another copy of it; if so, he was at liberty to lend the book, taking care, however, that he obtained a security which was to exceed the value of the loan; they were at the same time to make a memorandum in writing of the name of the book, and the nature of the security deposited for it, with the name of the party to whom it was lent, with that of the officer or librarian who delivered it.[22]

We learn by the canons before referred to, that the superintendence of all the writing and transcribing, whether in or out of the monastery, belonged to the office of the armarian, and that it was his duty to provide the scribes with parchment and all things necessary for their work, and to agree upon the price with those whom he employed. The monks who were appointed to write in the cloisters he supplied with copies for transcription; and that no time might be wasted, he was to see that a good supply was kept up. No one was to give to another what he himself had been ordered to write, or presume to do anything by his own will or inclination. Nor was it seemly that the armarian even should give any orders for transcripts to be made without first receiving the permission of his superior.[23]

We here catch a glimpse of the quiet life of a monkish student, who labored with this monotonous regularity to amass his little library. If we dwell on these scraps of information, we shall discover some marks of a love of learning among them, and the liberality they displayed in lending their books to each other is a pleasing trait to dwell upon. They unhesitatingly imparted to others the knowledge they acquired by their own study with a brotherly frankness and generosity well becoming the spirit of a student. This they did by extensive correspondence and the temporary exchange of their books. The system of loan, which they in this manner carried on to a considerable extent, is an important feature in connection with our subject; innumerable and interesting instances of this may be found in the monastic registers, and the private letters of the times. The cheapness of literary productions of the present age render it an absolute waste of time to transcribe a whole volume, and except with books of great scarcity we seldom think of borrowing or lending one; having finished its perusal we place it on the shelf and in future regard it as a book of reference; but in those days one volume did the work of twenty. It was lent to a neighboring monastery, and this constituted its publication; for each monastery thus favored, by the aid perhaps of some half dozen scribes, added a copy to their own library, and it was often stipulated that on the return of the original a correct duplicate should accompany it, as a remuneration to its author. Nor was the volume allowed to remain unread; it was recited aloud at meals, or when otherwise met together, to the whole community. We shall do well to bear this in mind, and not hastily judge of the number of students by a comparison with the number of their books. But it was not always a mere single volume that the monks lent from their library. Hunter has printed[24] a list of books lent by the Convent of Henton, a. d. 1343, to a neighboring monastery, containing twenty volumes. The engagement to restore these books was formally drawn up and sealed.

In the monasteries the first consideration was to see that the library was well stored with those books necessary for the performance of the various offices of the church, but besides these the library ought, according to established rules, to contain for the "edification of the brothers" such as were fit and needful to be consulted in common study. The Bible and great expositors; Bibliothecæ et majores expositores, books of martyrs, lives of saints, homilies, etc.;[25] these and other large books the monks were allowed to take and study in private, but the smaller ones they could only study in the library, lest they should be lost or mislaid. This was also the case with respect to the rare and choice volumes. When the armarian gave out books to the monks he made a note of their nature, and took an exact account of their number, so that he might know in a moment which of the brothers had it for perusal.[26] Those who studied together were to receive what books they choose; but when they had satisfied themselves, they were particularly directed to restore them to their assigned places; and when they at any time received from the armarian a book for their private reading, they were not allowed to lend it to any one else, or to use it in common, but to reserve it especially for his own private reading. The same rule extended to the singers, who if they required books for their studies, were to apply to the abbot.[27] The sick brothers were also entitled to the privilege of receiving from the armarian books for their solace and comfort; but as soon as the lamps were lighted in the infirmary the books were put away till the morning, and if not finished, were again given out from the library.[28] In the more ancient monasteries a similar case was observed with respect to their books. The rule of St. Pacome directed that the utmost attention should be paid to their preservation, and that when the monks went to the refectory they were not to leave their books open, but to carefully close and put them in their assigned places. The monastery of St. Pacome contained a vast number of monks; every house, says Mabillon, was composed of not less than forty monks, and the monastery embraced thirty or forty houses. Each monk, he adds, possessed his book, and few rested without forming a library; by which we may infer that the number of books was considerable.[29] Indeed, it was quite a common practice in those days, scarce as books were, to allow each of the monks one or more for his private study, besides granting them access to the library. The constitutions of Lanfranc, in the year 1072, directed the librarian, at the commencement of Lent, to deliver a book to each of the monks for their private reading, allowing them a whole year for its perusal.[30] There is one circumstance connected with the affairs of the library quite characteristic of monkish superstition, and bearing painful testimony to their mistaken ideas of what constituted "good works." In Martene's book there is a chapter, De Scientia et Signis—degrading and sad; there is something withal curious to be found in it. After enjoining the most scrupulous silence in the church, in the refectory, in the cloister, and in the dormitory, at all times, and in all seasons; transforming those men into perpetual mutes, and even when "actually necessary," permitting only a whisper to be articulated "in a low voice in the ear," submissa voce in aure, it then proceeds to describe a series of fantastic grimaces which the monks were to perform on applying to the armarian for books. The general sign for a book, generali signi libri, was to "extend the hand and make a movement as if turning over the leaves of a book." For a missal the monk was to make a similar movement with a sign of the cross; for the gospels the sign of the cross on the forehead; for an antiphon or book of responses he was to strike the thumb and little finger of the other hand together; for a book of offices or gradale to make the sign of a cross and kiss the fingers; for a tract lay the hand on the abdomen and apply the other hand to the mouth; for a capitulary make the general sign and extend the clasped hands to heaven; for a psalter place the hands upon the head in the form of a crown, such as the king is wont to wear.[31] Religious intolerance was rampant when this rule was framed; hot and rancorous denunciation was lavished with amazing prodigality against works of loose morality or heathen origin; nor did the monks feel much compassion—although they loved to read them—for the old authors of antiquity. Pagans they were, and therefore fit only to be named as infidels and dogs, so the monk was directed for a secular book, "which some pagan wrote after making the general sign to scratch his ear with his hand, just as a dog itching would do with his feet, because infidels are not unjustly compared to such creatures—quia nec immerito infideles tali animanti contparantur."[32] Wretched bigotry and puny malice! Yet what a sad reflection it is, that with all the foul and heartburning examples which those dark ages of the monks afford, posterity have failed to profit by them—religious intolerance, with all its vain-glory and malice, flourishes still, the cankering worm of many a Christian blossom! Besides the duties which we have enumerated, there were others which it was the province of the armarian to fulfil. He was particularly to inspect and collate those books which, according to the decrees of the church, it was unlawful to possess different from the authorized copies; these were the bible, the gospels, missals, epistles, collects graduales, antiphons, hymns, psalters, lessions, and the monastic rules; these were always to be alike even in the most minute point.[33] He was moreover directed to prepare for the use of the brothers short tables respecting the times mentioned in the capitulary for the various offices of the church, to make notes upon the matins, the mass, and upon the different orders.[34] In fact, the monkish amanuensis was expected to undertake all those matters which required care and learning combined. He wrote the letters of the monastery, and often filled the office of secretary to my Lord Abbot. In the monasteries of course the services of the librarian were unrequited by any pecuniary remuneration, but in the cathedral libraries a certain salary was sometimes allowed them. Thus we learn that the amanuensis of the conventual church of Ely received in the year 1372 forty-three shillings and fourpence for his annual duties;[35] and Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, in the tenth century, gave considerable landed possessions to a monk of that church as a recompense for his services as librarian.[36] In some monasteries, in the twelfth century, if not earlier, they levied a tax on all the members of the community, who paid a yearly sum to the librarian for binding, preserving, and purchasing copies for the library. One of these rules, bearing date 1145, was made by Udon, Abbot of St. Père en Vallée à Chantres, and that it might be more plausibly received, he taxed himself as well as all the members of his own house.[37] The librarian sometimes, in addition to his regular duties, combined the office of precentor to the monastery.[38] Some of their account-books have been preserved, and by an inspection of them, we may occasionally gather some interesting and curious hints, as to the cost of books and writing materials in those times. As may be supposed, the monkish librarians often became great bibliophiles, for being in constant communication with choice manuscripts, they soon acquired a great mania for them. Posterity are also particularly indebted to the pens of these book conservators of the middle ages; for some of the best chroniclers and writers of those times were humble librarians to some religious house.

Not only did the bibliophiles of old exercise the utmost care in the preservation of their darling books, but the religious basis of their education and learning prompted them to supplicate the blessing of God upon their goodly tomes. Although I might easily produce other instances, one will suffice to give an idea of their nature: "O Lord, send the virtue of thy Holy Spirit upon these our books; that cleansing them from all earthly things, by thy holy blessing, they may mercifully enlighten our hearts and give us true understanding; and grant that by thy teaching, they may brightly preserve and make full an abundance of good works according to thy will."[39]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Cap. xxi. Martene de Antiquis Ecclesiæ Ritibus, tom. iii. p. 262.

[17] See Catalogue of Hulne Abbey, Library MS. Harleian. No. 3897.

[18] Martene de Antiq. Eccle. Rit., tom. iii. p. 263.

[19] Ibid. Ingulphus tells us that the same rule was observed in Croyland Abbey.—Apud Gale, p. 104.

[20] Marked b. iv. 26. Surtee Publications, vol. i. p. 121.

[21] Const. admiss. Abbat, et gubernatione Monast. Abendum Cottonian M.S. Claudius, b. vi. p. 194.

[22] Philobiblon, 4to. Oxon, 1599, chap. xix.

[23] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ribibus, tom. iii. p. 263. For an inattention to this the Council of Soissons, in 1121, ordered some transcripts of Abelard's works to be burnt, and severely reproved the author for his unpardonable neglect.—Histoire Littéraire de la France, tom. ix. p. 28.

[24] Catalogues of Monastic Libraries, pp. 16, 17.

[25] Const. Canon. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Ibid., tom. iii. cap. xxxvi. pp. 269, 270.

[28] Martene, tom. iii. p. 331. For a list of some books applied to their use, see MS. Cot. Galba, c. iv. fo. 128.

[29] Mabillon, Traité des Etudes Monastiques, 4to. Paris 1691, cap. vi. p. 34.

[30] Wilkin's Concil. tom. i. p. 332.

[31] Stat. pro Reform. ordin. Grandimont. ap. Martene cap. x.

[32] Ibid., tom. iv. pp. 289, 339.

[33] Const. Canon. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[34] Ibid., cap. xxi. p. 263.

[35] Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the Church of Ely, p. 51.

[36] Thomas' Survey of the Church of Worcester, p. 45.

[37] Mabillon. Annal. tom. vi. pp. 651 and 652. Hist. Litt. de la France, ix. p. 140.

[38] They managed the pecuniary matters of the fraternity. William of Malmsbury was precentor as well as librarian to his monastery.

[39] Martene de Antiq. Eccl. Ritibus ii. p. 302.

CHAPTER III

Scriptoria and the Scribes.—Care in copying.—Bible reading among the monks.—Booksellers in the middle ages.—Circulating libraries.—Calligraphic art, etc.

s the monasteries were the schools of learning, so their occupants were the preservers of literature, and, as Herault observes, had they not taken the trouble to transcribe books, the ancients had been lost to us for ever; to them, therefore, we owe much. But there are many, however, who suppose that the monastic establishments were hotbeds of superstition and fanaticism, from whence nothing of a useful or elevated nature could possibly emanate. They are too apt to suppose that the human intellect must be altogether weak and impotent when confined within such narrow limits; but truth and knowledge can exist even in the dark cells of a gloomy cloister, and inspire the soul with a fire that can shed a light far beyond its narrow precincts. Indeed, I scarce know whether to regret, as some appear to do, that the literature and learning of those rude times was preserved and fostered by the Christian church; it is said, that their strict devotion and religious zeal prompted them to disregard all things but a knowledge of those divine, but such is not the case; at least, I have not found it so; it is true, as churchmen, they were principally devoted to the study of divine and ecclesiastical lore; but it is also certain that in that capacity they gradually infused the mild spirit of their Master among the darkened society over which they presided, and among whom they shone as beacons of light in a dreary desert. But the church did more than this. She preserved to posterity the profane learnings of Old Greece and Rome; copied it, multiplied it, and spread it. She recorded to after generations in plain, simple language, the ecclesiastical and civil events of the past, for it is from the terse chronicles of the monkish churchmen that we learn now the history of what happened then. Much as we may dislike the monastic system, the cold, heartless, gloomy ascetic atmosphere of the cloister, and much as we may deplore the mental dissipation of man's best attributes, which the system of those old monks engendered, we must exercise a cool and impartial judgment, and remember that what now would be intolerable and monstrously inconsistent with our present state of intellectuality, might at some remote period, in the ages of darkness and comparative barbarism, have had its virtues and beneficial influences. As for myself, it would be difficult to convince me, with all those fine relics of their deeds before me, those beauteous fanes dedicated to piety and God, those libraries so crowded with their vellum tomes, so gorgeously adorned, and the abundant evidence which history bears to their known charity and hospitable love, that these monks and their system was a scheme of dismal barbarism; it may be so, but my reading has taught me different; but, on the other hand, although the monks possessed many excellent qualities, being the encouragers of literature, the preservers of books, and promulgators of civilization, we must not hide their numerous and palpable faults, or overlook the poison which their system of monachism ultimately infused into the very vitals of society. In the early centuries, before the absurdities of Romanism were introduced, the influence of the monastic orders was highly beneficial to our Saxon ancestors, but in after ages the Church of England was degraded by the influence of the fast growing abominations of Popedom. She drank copiously of the deadly potion, and became the blighted and ghostly shadow of her former self. Forgetting the humility of her divine Lord, she sought rather to imitate the worldly splendor and arrogance of her Sovereign Pontiff. The evils too obviously existed to be overlooked; but it is not my place to further expose them; a more pleasing duty guides my pen; others have done all this, lashing them painfully for their oft-told sins. Frail humanity glories in chastizing the frailty of brother man. But we will not denounce them here, for did not the day of retribution come? And was not justice satisfied? Having made these few preliminary remarks, let us, in a brief manner, inquire into the system observed in the cloisters by the monks for the preservation and transcription of manuscripts. Let us peep into the quiet cells of those old monks, and see whether history warrants the unqualified contempt which their efforts in this department have met with.

In most monasteries there were two kinds of Scriptoria, or writing offices; for in addition to the large and general apartment used for the transcription of church books and manuscripts for the library, there were also several smaller ones occupied by the superiors and the more learned members of the community, as closets for private devotion and study. Thus we read, that in the Cistercian orders there were places set apart for the transcription of books called Scriptoria, or cells assigned to the scribes, "separate from each other," where the books might be transcribed in the strictest silence, according to the holy rules of their founders.[40] These little cells were usually situated in the most retired part of the monastery, and were probably incapable of accommodating more than one or two persons;[41] dull and comfortless places, no doubt, yet they were deemed great luxuries, and the use of them only granted to such as became distinguished for their piety, or erudition. We read that when David went to the Isle of Wight, to Paulinus, to receive his education, he used to sup in the Refectory, but had a Scriptorium, or study, in his cell, being a famous scribe.[42] The aged monks, who often lived in these little offices, separate from the rest of the scribes, were not expected to work so arduously as the rest. Their employment was comparatively easy; nor were they compelled to work so long as those in the cloister.[43] There is a curious passage in Tangmar's Life of St. Bernward, which would lead us to suspect that private individuals possessed Scriptoria; for, says he, there are Scriptoria, not only in the monasteries, but in other places, in which are conceived books equal to the divine works of the philosophers.[44] The Scriptorium of the monastery in which the general business of a literary nature was transacted, was an apartment far more extensive and commodious, fitted up with forms and desks methodically arranged, so as to contain conveniently a great number of copyists. In some of the monasteries and cathedrals, they had long ranges of seats one after another, at which were seated the scribes, one well versed in the subject on which the book treated, recited from the copy whilst they wrote; so that, on a word being given out by him, it was copied by all.[45] The multiplication of manuscripts, under such a system as this, must have been immense; but they did not always make books, fecit libros, as they called it, in this wholesale manner, but each monk diligently labored at the transcription of a separate work.

The amount of labor carried on in the Scriptorium, of course, in many cases depended upon the revenues of the abbey, and the disposition of the abbot; but this was not always the case, as in some monasteries they undertook the transcription of books as a matter of commerce, and added broad lands to their house by the industry of their pens. But the Scriptorium was frequently supported by resources solely applicable to its use. Laymen, who had a taste for literature, or who entertained an esteem for it in others, often at their death bequeathed estates for the support of the monastic Scriptoria. Robert, one of the Norman leaders, gave two parts of the tythes of Hatfield, and the tythes of Redburn, for the support of the Scriptorium of St. Alban's.[46] The one belonging to the monastery of St. Edmundsbury was endowed with two mills,[47] and in the church of Ely there is a charter of Bishof Nigellus, granting to the Scriptorium of the monastery the tythes of Wythessey and Impitor, two parts of the tythes of the Lordship of Pampesward, with 2s. 2d., and a messuage in Ely ad faciendos et emandandos libros.[48]

The abbot superintended the management of the Scriptorium, and decided upon the hours for their labor, during which time they were ordered to work with unremitting diligence, "not leaving to go and wander in idleness," but to attend solely to the business of transcribing. To prevent detraction or interruption, no one was allowed to enter except the abbot, the prior, the sub-prior, and the armarian,[49] as the latter took charge of all the materials and implements used by the transcribers, it was his duty to prepare and give them out when required; he made the ink and cut the parchment ready for use. He was strictly enjoined, however, to exercise the greatest economy in supplying these precious materials, and not to give more copies "nec artavos, nec cultellos, nec scarpellæ, nec membranes," than was actually necessary, or than he had computed as sufficient for the work; and what the armarian gave them the monks were to receive without contradiction or contention.[50]

The utmost silence prevailed in the Scriptorium; rules were framed, and written admonitions hung on the walls, to enforce the greatest care and diligence in copying exactly from the originals. In Alcuin's works we find one of these preserved; it is a piece inscribed "Ad Musæum libros scribentium;" the lines are as follows:

"Hic sideant sacræ scribentes famina legis,
Nec non sanctorum dicta sacrata Patrum,
Hæc interserere caveant sua frivola verbis,
Frivola nec propter erret et ipsa manus:

Correctosque sibi quærant studiose libellos,
Tramite quo recto penna volantis eat.
Per cola distinquant proprios, et commata sensus,
Et punctos ponant ordine quosque suo.

Ne vel falsa legat, taceat vel forte repente,
Ante pios fratres, lector in Ecclesia.
Est opus egregium sacros jam scribete libros,
Nec mercede sua scriptor et ipse caret.

Fodere quam vites, melius est scribere libros,
Ille suo ventri serviet, iste animæ.
Vel nova, vel vetera poterit proferre magister
Plurima, quisque legit dicta sacrata Patrum."[51]

Other means were resorted to besides these to preserve the text of their books immaculate, it was a common practice for the scribe at the end of his copy, to adjure all who transcribed from it to use the greatest care, and to refrain from the least alteration of word or sense. Authors more especially followed this course, thus at the end of some we find such injunctions as this.

"I adjure you who shall transcribe this book, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by his glorious coming, who will come to judge the quick and the dead, that you compare what you transcribe and diligently correct it by the copy from which you transcribe it—this adjuration also—and insert it in your copy."[52]

The Consuetudines Canonicorum, before referred to, also particularly impressed this upon the monks, and directed that all the brothers who were engaged as scribes, were not to alter any writing, although in their own mind they might think it proper, without first receiving the sanction of the abbot, "on no account were they to commit so great a presumption."[53] But notwithstanding that the scribes were thus enjoined to use the utmost care in copying books, doubtless an occasional error crept in, which many causes might have produced, such as bad light, haste, a little drowsiness, imperfect sight, or even a flickering lamp was sufficient to produce some trivial error; but in works of importance the smallest error is of consequence, as some future scribe puzzled by the blunder, might, in an attempt to correct, still more augment the imperfection; to guard against this, with respect to the Scriptures, the most critical care was enforced. Monks advanced in age were alone allowed to transcribe them, and after their completion they were read—revised—and reread again, and it is by that means that so uniform a reading has been preserved, and although slight differences may here and there occur, there are no books which have traversed through the shadows of the dark ages, that preserve their original text so pure and uncorrupt as the copies of the Scriptures, the fathers of the church, and the ancient writings of the classic authors; sometimes, it is true, a manuscript of the last order is discovered possessing a very different reading in some particular passage; but these appear rather as futile emendations or interpolations of the scribe than as the result of a downright blunder, and are easily perceivable, for when the monkish churchmen tampered with ancient copies, it generally originated in a desire to smooth over the indecencies of the heathen authors, and so render them less liable to corrupt the holy contemplations of the devotee; and while we blame the pious fraud, we cannot but respect the motive that dictated it.

But as regards the Scriptures, we talk of the carelessness of the monks and the interpolations of the scribes as if these were faults peculiar to the monastic ages alone; alas! the history of Biblical transmission tells us differently, the gross perversions, omissions, and errors wrought in the holy text, proclaim how prevalent these same faults have been in the ages of printed literature, and which appear more palpable by being produced amidst deep scholars, and surrounded with all the critical acumen of a learned age. Five or six thousand of these gross blunders, or these wilful mutilations, protest the unpleasant fact, and show how much of human grossness it has acquired, and how besmeared with corruption those sacred pages have become in passing through the hands of man, and the "revisings" of sectarian minds. I am tempted to illustrate this by an anecdote related by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange of Hunstanton, and preserved in a MS. in the Harlein collection.—"Dr. Usher, Bish. of Armath, being to preach at Paules Crosse and passing hastily by one of the stationers, called for a Bible, and had a little one of the London edition given him out, but when he came to looke for his text, that very verse was omitted in the print: which gave the first occasion of complaint to the king of the insufferable negligence, and insufficience of the London printers and presse, and bredde that great contest that followed, betwixt the univers. of Cambridge and London stationers, about printing of the Bibles."[54] Gross and numerous indeed were the errors of the corrupt bible text of that age, and far exceeding even the blunders of monkish pens, and certainly much less excusable, for in those times they seldom had a large collection of codices to compare, so that by studying their various readings, they could arrive at a more certain and authentic version. The paucity of the sacred volume, if it rendered their pens more liable to err, served to enforce upon them the necessity of still greater scrutiny. On looking over a monastic catalogue, the first volume that I search for is the Bible; and, I feel far more disappointment if I find it not there, than I do at the absence of Horace or Ovid—there is something so desolate in the idea of a Christian priest without the Book of Life—of a minister of God without the fountain of truth—that however favorably we may be prone to regard them, a thought will arise that the absence of this sacred book may perhaps be referred to the indolence of the monkish pen, or to the laxity of priestly piety. But such I am glad to say was not often the case; the Bible it is true was an expensive book, but can scarcely be regarded as a rare one; the monastery was indeed poor that had it not, and when once obtained the monks took care to speedily transcribe it. Sometimes they only possessed detached portions, but when this was the case they generally borrowed of some neighboring and more fortunate monastery, the missing parts to transcribe, and so complete their own copies. But all this did not make the Bible less loved among them, or less anxiously and ardently studied, they devoted their days, and the long hours of the night, to the perusal of those pages of inspired truth,[55] and it is a calumny without a shadow of foundation to declare that the monks were careless of scripture reading; it is true they did not apply that vigor of thought, and unrestrained reflection upon it which mark the labors of the more modern student, nor did they often venture to interpret the hidden meaning of the holy mysteries by the powers of their own mind, but were guided in this important matter by the works of the fathers. But hence arose a circumstance which gave full exercise to their mental powers and compelled the monk in spite of his timidity to think a little for himself. Unfortunately the fathers, venerable and venerated as they were, after all were but men, with many of the frailties and all the fallabilities of poor human nature; the pope might canonize them, and the priesthood bow submissively to their spiritual guidance, still they remained for all that but mortals of dust and clay, and their bulky tomes yet retain the swarthiness of the tomb about them, the withering impress of humanity. Such being the case we, who do not regard them quite so infallible, feel no surprise at a circumstance which sorely perplexed the monks of old, they unchained and unclasped their cumbrous "Works of the Fathers," and pored over those massy expositions with increasing wonder; surrounded by these holy guides, these fathers of infallibility, they were like strangers in a foreign land, did they follow this holy saint they seemed about to forsake the spiritual direction of one having equal claims to their obedience and respect; alas! for poor old weak tradition, those fabrications of man's faulty reason were found, with all their orthodoxy, to clash woefully in scriptural interpretation. Here was a dilemma for the monkish student! whose vow of obedience to patristical guidance was thus sorely perplexed; he read and re-read, analyzed passage after passage, interpreted word after word; and yet, poor man, his laborious study was fruitless and unprofitable! What bible student can refrain from sympathizing with him amidst these torturing doubts and this crowd of contradiction, but after all we cannot regret this, for we owe to it more than my feeble pen can write, so immeasurable have been the fruits of this little unheeded circumstance. It gave birth to many a bright independent declaration, involving pure lines of scripture interpretation, which appear in the darkness of those times like fixed stars before us; to this, in Saxon days, we are indebted for the labors of Ælfric and his anti-Roman doctrines, whose soul also sympathized with a later age by translating portions of the Bible into the vulgar tongue, thus making it accessible to all classes of the people. To this we are indebted for all the good that resulted from those various heterodoxies and heresies, which sometimes disturbed the church during the dark ages; but which wrought much ultimate good by compelling the thoughts of men to dwell on these important matters. Indeed, to the instability of the fathers, as a sure guide, we may trace the origin of all those efforts of the human mind, which cleared the way for the Reformation, and relieved man from the shackles of these spiritual guides of the monks.

But there were many cloistered Christians who studied the bible undisturbed by these shadows and doubts, and who, heedless of patristical lore and saintly wisdom, devoured the spiritual food in its pure and uncontaminating simplicity—such students, humble, patient, devoted, will be found crowding the monastic annals, and yielding good evidence of the same by the holy tenor of their sinless lives, their Christian charity and love.

But while so many obtained the good title of an "Amator Scripturarum," as the bible student was called in those monkish days, I do not pretend to say that the Bible was a common book among them, or that every monk possessed one—far different indeed was the case—a copy of the Old and New Testament often supplied the wants of an entire monastery, and in others, as I have said before, only some detached portions were to be found in their libraries. Sometimes they were more plentiful, and the monastery could boast of two or three copies, besides a few separate portions, and occasionally I have met with instances where besides several Biblia Optima, they enjoyed Hebrew codices and translations, with numerous copies of the gospels. We must not forget, however, that the transcription of a Bible was a work of time, and required the outlay of much industry and wealth. "Brother Tedynton," a monk of Ely, commenced a Bible in 1396, and was several years before he completed it. The magnitude of the undertaking can scarcely be imagined by those unpractised in the art of copying, but when the monk saw the long labor of his pen before him, and looked upon the well bound strong clasped volumes, with their clean vellum folios and fine illuminations, he seemed well repaid for his years of toil and tedious labor, and felt a glow of pious pleasure as he contemplated his happy acquisition, and the comfort and solace which he should hereafter derive from its holy pages! We are not surprised then, that a Bible in those days should be esteemed so valuable, and capable of realizing a considerable sum. The monk, independent of its spiritual value, regarded it as a great possession, worthy of being bestowed at his death, with all the solemnity of a testamentary process, and of being gratefully acknowledged by the fervent prayers of the monkish brethren. Kings and nobles offered it as an appropriate and generous gift, and bishops were deemed benefactors to their church by adding it to the library. On its covers were written earnest exhortations to the Bible student, admonishing the greatest care in its use, and leveling anathemas and excommunications upon any one who should dare to purloin it. For its greater security it was frequently chained to a reading desk, and if a duplicate copy was lent to a neighboring monastery they required a large deposit, or a formal bond for its safe return.[56] These facts, while they show its value, also prove how highly it was esteemed among them, and how much the monks loved the Book of Life.

But how different is the picture now—how opposite all this appears to the aspect of bible propagation in our own time. Thanks to the printing-press, to bible societies, and to the benevolence of God, we cannot enter the humblest cottage of the poorest peasant without observing the Scriptures on his little shelf—not always read, it is true—nor always held in veneration as in the old days before us—its very plentitude and cheapness takes off its attraction to irreligious and indifferent readers, but to poor and needy Christians what words can express the fulness of the blessing. Yet while we thank God for this great boon, let us refrain from casting uncharitable reflections upon the monks for its comparative paucity among them. If its possession was not so easily acquired, they were nevertheless true lovers of the Bible, and preserved and multiplied it in dark and troublous times.

Our remarks have hitherto applied to the monastic scribes alone; but it is necessary here to speak of the secular copyists, who were an important class during the middle ages, and supplied the functions of the bibliopole of the ancients. But the transcribing trade numbered three or four distinct branches. There were the Librarii Antiquarii, Notarii, and the Illuminators—occasionally these professions were all united in one—where perseverance or talent had acquired a knowledge of these various arts. There appears to have been considerable competition between these contending bodies. The notarii were jealous of the librarii, and the librarii in their turn were envious of the antiquarii, who devoted their ingenuity to the transcription and repairing of old books especially, rewriting such parts as were defective or erased, and restoring the dilapidations of the binding. Being learned in old writings they corrected and revised the copies of ancient codices; of this class we find mention as far back as the time of Cassiodorus and Isidore.[57] "They deprived," says Astle, "the poor librarii, or common scriptores, of great part of their business, so that they found it difficult to gain a subsistence for themselves and their families. This put them about finding out more expeditious methods of transcribing books. They formed the letters smaller, and made use of more conjugations and abbreviations than had been usual. They proceeded in this manner till the letters became exceedingly small and extremely difficult to be read."[58] The fact of there existing a class of men, whose fixed employment or profession was solely confined to the transcription of ancient writings and to the repairing of tattered copies, in contradistinction to the common scribes, and depending entirely upon the exercise of their art as a means of obtaining a subsistence, leads us to the conclusion that ancient manuscripts were by no means so very scarce in those days; for how absurd and useless it would have been for men to qualify themselves for transcribing these antiquated and venerable codices, if there had been no probability of obtaining them to transcribe. The fact too of its becoming the subject of so much competition proves how great was the demand for their labor.[59]

We are unable, with any positive result, to discover the exact origin of the secular scribes, though their existence may probably be referred to a very remote period. The monks seem to have monopolized for some ages the "Commercium Librorum,"[60] and sold and bartered copies to a considerable extent among each other. We may with some reasonable grounds, however, conjecture that the profession was flourishing in Saxon times; for we find several eminent names in the seventh and eighth centuries who, in their epistolary correspondence, beg their friends to procure transcripts for them. Benedict, Bishop of Wearmouth, purchased most of his book treasures at Rome, which was even at that early period probably a famous mart for such luxuries, as he appears to have journeyed there for that express purpose. Some of the books which he collected were presents from his foreign friends; but most of them, as Bede tells us, were bought by himself, or in accordance with his instructions, by his friends.[61] Boniface, the Saxon missionary, continually writes for books to his associates in all parts of Europe. At a subsequent period the extent and importance of the profession grew amazingly; and in Italy its followers were particularly numerous in the tenth century, as we learn from the letters of Gerbert, afterwards Silvester II., who constantly writes, with the cravings of a bibliomaniac, to his friends for books, and begs them to get the scribes, who, he adds, in one of his letters, may be found in all parts of Italy,[62] both in town and in the country, to make transcripts of certain books for him, and he promises to reimburse his correspondent all that he expends for the same.

These public scribes derived their principal employment from the monks and the lawyers; from the former in transcribing their manuscripts, and by the latter in drawing up their legal instruments. They carried on their avocation at their own homes like other artisans; but sometimes when employed by the monks executed their transcripts within the cloister, where they were boarded, lodged, and received their wages till their work was done. This was especially the case when some great book was to be copied, of rarity and price; thus we read of Paulinus, of St. Albans, sending into distant parts to obtain proficient workmen, who were paid so much per diem for their labor; their wages were generously supplied by the Lord of Redburn.[63]

The increase of knowledge and the foundation of the universities gave birth to the booksellers. Their occupation as a distinct trade originated at a period coeval with the foundation of these public seminaries, although the first mention that I am aware of is made by Peter of Blois, about the year 1170. I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter of this celebrated scholar, but I may be excused for giving the anecdote here, as it is so applicable to my subject. It appears, then, that whilst remaining in Paris to transact some important matter for the King of England, he entered the shop of "a public dealer in books"—for be it known that the archdeacon was always on the search, and seldom missed an opportunity of adding to his library—the bookseller, Peter tells us, offered him a tempting collection on Jurisprudence; but although his knowledge of such matters was so great that he did not require them for his own use, he thought they might be serviceable to his nephew, and after bargaining a little about the price he counted down the money agreed upon and left the stall; but no sooner was his back turned than the Provost of Sexeburgh came in to look over the literary stores of the stationer, and his eye meeting the recently sold volume, he became inspired with a wish to possess it; nor could he, on hearing it was bought and paid for by another, suppress his anxiety to obtain the treasure; but, offering more money, actually took the volume away by force. As may be supposed, Archdeacon Peter was sorely annoyed at this behavior; and "To his dearest companion and friend Master Arnold of Blois, Peter of Blois Archdeacon of Bath sent greeting," a long and learned letter, displaying his great knowledge of civil law, and maintaining the illegality of the provost's conduct.[64] The casual way in which this is mentioned make it evident that the "publico mangone Librorum" was no unusual personage in those days, but belonged to a common and recognized profession.

The vast number of students who, by the foundation of universities, were congregated together, generated of course a proportionate demand for books, which necessity or luxury prompted them eagerly to purchase: but there were poor as well as rich students educated in these great seminaries of learning, whose pecuniary means debarred them from the acquisition of such costly luxuries; and for this and other cogent reasons the universities deemed it advantageous, and perhaps expedient, to frame a code of laws and regulations to provide alike for the literary wants of all classes and degrees. To effect this they obtained royal sanction to take the trade entirely under their protection, and eventually monopolized a sole legislative power over the Librarii.

In the college of Navarre a great quantity of ancient documents are preserved, many of which relate to this curious subject. They were deposited there by M. Jean Aubert in 1623, accompanied by an inventory of them, divided into four parts by the first four letters of the alphabet. In the fourth, under D. 18, there is a chapter entitled "Des Libraires Appretiateurs, Jurez et Enlumineurs," which contains much interesting matter relating to the early history of bookselling.[65] These ancient statutes, collected and printed by the University in the year 1652,[66] made at various times, and ranging between the years 1275 and 1403, give us a clear insight into the matter.

The nature of a bookseller's business in those days required no ordinary capacity, and no shallow store of critical acumen; the purchasing of manuscripts, the work of transcription, the careful revisal, the preparation of materials, the tasteful illuminations, and the process of binding, were each employments requiring some talent and discrimination, and we are not surprised, therefore, that the avocation of a dealer and fabricator of these treasures should be highly regarded, and dignified into a profession, whose followers were invested with all the privileges, freedoms and exemptions, which the masters and students of the university enjoyed.[67] But it required these conciliations to render the restrictive and somewhat severe measures, which she imposed on the bookselling trade, to be received with any degree of favor or submission. For whilst the University of Paris, by whom these statutes were framed, encouraged and elevated the profession of the librarii, she required, on the other hand, a guarantee of their wealth and mental capacity, to maintain and to appreciate these important concessions; the bookseller was expected indeed to be well versed in all branches of science, and to be thoroughly imbued with a knowledge of those subjects and works of which he undertook to produce transcripts.[68] She moreover required of him testimonials to his good character, and efficient security, ratified by a solemn oath of allegiance,[69] and a promise to observe and submit to all the present and future laws and regulations of the university. In some cases, it appears that she restricted the number of librarii, though this fell into disuse as the wants of the students increased. Twenty-four seems to have been the original number,[70] which is sufficiently great to lead to the conclusion that bookselling was a flourishing trade in those old days. By the statutes of the university, the bookseller was not allowed to expose his transcripts for sale, without first submitting them to the inspection of certain officers appointed by the university, and if an error was discovered, the copies were ordered to be burnt or a fine levied on them, proportionate to their inaccuracy. Harsh and stringent as this may appear at first sight, we shall modify our opinion, on recollecting that the student was in a great degree dependent upon the care of the transcribers for the fidelity of his copies, which rendered a rule of this nature almost indispensable; nor should we forget the great service it bestowed in maintaining the primitive accuracy of ancient writers, and in transmitting them to us through those ages in their original purity.[71]

In these times of free trade and unrestrained commercial policy, we shall regard less favorably a regulation which they enforced at Paris, depriving the bookseller of the power of fixing a price upon his own goods. Four booksellers were appointed and sworn in to superintend this department, and when a new transcript was finished, it was brought by the bookseller, and they discussed its merits and fixed its value, which formed the amount the bookseller was compelled to ask for it; if he demanded of his customer a larger sum, it was deemed a fraudulent imposition, and punishable as such. Moreover, as an advantage to the students, the bookseller was expected to make a considerable reduction in his profits in supplying them with books; by one of the laws of the university, his profit on each volume was confined to four deniers to student, and six deniers to a common purchaser. The librarii were still further restricted in the economy of their trade, by a rule which forbade any one of them to dispose of his entire stock of books without the consent of the university; but this, I suspect, implied the disposal of the stock and trade together, and was intended to intimate that the introduction of the purchaser would not be allowed, without the cognizance and sanction of the university.[72] Nor was the bookseller able to purchase books without her consent, lest they should be of an immoral or heretical tendency; and they were absolutely forbidden to buy any of the students, without the permission of the rector.

But restricted as they thus were, the book merchants nevertheless grew opulent, and transacted an important and extensive trade; sometimes they purchased parts and sometimes they had whole libraries to sell.[73] Their dealings were conducted with unusual care, and when a volume of peculiar rarity or interest was to be sold, a deed of conveyance was drawn up with legal precision, in the presence of authorized witnesses.

In those days of high prices and book scarcity, the poor student was sorely impeded in his progress; to provide against these disadvantages, they framed a law in 1342, at Paris, compelling all public booksellers to keep books to lend out on hire. The reader will be surprised at the idea of a circulating library in the middle ages! but there can be no doubt of the fact, they were established at Paris, Toulouse, Vienna, and Bologne. These public librarians, too, were obliged to write out regular catalogues of their books and hang them up in their shops, with the prices affixed, so that the student might know beforehand what he had to pay for reading them. I am tempted to give a few extracts from these lists:

• St. Gregory's Commentaries upon Job, for reading 100 pages, 8 sous.
• St. Gregory's Book of Homilies, 28 pages for 12 deniers.
• Isidore's De Summa bona, 24 pages, 12 deniers.
• Anselm's De Veritate de Libertate Arbitrii, 40 pages, 2 sous.
• Peter Lombard's Book of Sentences, 3 sous.
• Scholastic History, 3 sous.
• Augustine's Confessions, 21 pages, 4 deniers.
• Gloss on Matthew, by brother Thomas Aquinas, 57 pages, 3 sous.
• Bible Concordance, 9 sous.
• Bible, 10 sous.[74]

This rate of charge was also fixed by the university, and the students borrowing these books were privileged to transcribe them if they chose; if any of them proved imperfect or faulty, they were denounced by the university, and a fine imposed upon the bookseller who had lent out the volume.

This potent influence exercised by the universities over booksellers became, in time, much abused, and in addition to these commercial restraints, they assumed a still less warrantable power over the original productions of authors; and became virtually the public censors of books, and had the power of burning or prohibiting any work of questionable orthodoxy. In the time of Henry the Second, a book was published by being read over for two or three successive days, before one of the universities, and if they approved of its doctrines and bestowed upon it their approbation, it was allowed to be copied extensively for sale.

Stringent as the university rules were, as regards the bookselling trade, they were, nevertheless, sometimes disregarded or infringed; some ventured to take more for a book than the sum allowed, and, by prevarication and secret contracts, eluded the vigilance of the laws.[75] Some were still bolder, and openly practised the art of a scribe and the profession of a bookseller, without knowledge or sanction of the university. This gave rise to much jealousy, and in the University of Oxford, in the year 1373, they made a decree forbidding any person exposing books for sale without her licence.[76]

Now, considering all these usages of early bookselling, their numbers, their opulence, and above all, the circulating libraries which the librarii established, can we still retain the opinion that books were so inaccessible in those ante-printing days, when we know that for a few sous the booklover could obtain good and authenticated copies to peruse, or transcribe? It may be advanced that these facts solely relate to universities, and were intended merely to insure a supply of the necessary books in constant requisition by the students, but such was not the case; the librarii were essentially public Librorum Venditores, and were glad to dispose of their goods to any who could pay for them. Indeed, the early bibliomaniacs usually flocked to these book marts to rummage over the stalls, and to collect their choice volumes. Richard de Bury obtained many in this way, both at Paris and at Rome.

Of the exact pecuniary value of books during the middle ages, we have no means of judging. The few instances that have accidentally been recorded are totally inadequate to enable us to form an opinion. The extravagant estimate given by some as to the value of books in those days is merely conjectural, as it necessarily must be, when we remember that the price was guided by the accuracy of the transcription, the splendor of the binding, which was often gorgeous to excess, and by the beauty and richness of the illuminations.[77] Many of the manuscripts of the middle ages are magnificent in the extreme. Sometimes they inscribed the gospels and the venerated writings of the fathers with liquid gold, on parchment of the richest purple,[78] and adorned its brilliant pages with illuminations of exquisite workmanship.

The first specimens we have of an attempt to embellish manuscripts are Egyptian. It was a common practice among them at first to color the initial letter of each chapter or division of their work, and afterwards to introduce objects of various kinds into the body of the manuscript.

The splendor of the ancient calligraphical productions of Greece,[79] and the still later ones of Rome, bear repeated testimony that the practice of this art had spread during the sixth century, if not earlier, to these powerful empires. England was not tardy in embracing this elegant art. We have many relics of remote antiquity and exquisite workmanship existing now, which prove the talent and assiduity of our early Saxon forefathers.

In Ireland the illuminating art was profusely practised at a period as early as the commencement of the seventh century, and in the eighth we find it holding forth eminent claims to our respect by the beauty of their workmanship, and the chastity of their designs. Those well versed in the study of these ancient manuscripts have been enabled, by extensive but minute observation, to point out their different characteristics in various ages, and even to decide upon the school in which a particular manuscript was produced.

These illuminations, which render the early manuscripts of the monkish ages so attractive, generally exemplify the rude ideas and tastes of the time. In perspective they are wofully deficient, and manifest but little idea of the picturesque or sublime; but here and there we find quite a gem of art, and, it must be owned, we are seldom tired by monotony of coloring, or paucity of invention. A study of these parchment illustrations afford considerable instruction. Not only do they indicate the state of the pictorial art in the middle ages, but also give us a comprehensive insight into the scriptural ideas entertained in those times; and the bible student may learn much from pondering on these glittering pages; to the historical student, and to the lover of antiquities, they offer a verdant field of research, and he may obtain in this way many a glimpse of the manners and customs of those old times which the pages of the monkish chroniclers have failed to record.

But all this prodigal decoration greatly enhanced the price of books, and enabled them to produce a sum, which now to us sounds enormously extravagant. Moreover, it is supposed that the scarcity of parchment limited the number of books materially, and prevented their increase to any extent; but I am prone to doubt this assertion, for my own observations do not help to prove it. Mr. Hallam says, that in consequence of this, "an unfortunate practice gained ground of erasing a manuscript in order to substitute another on the same skin. This occasioned, probably, the loss of many ancient authors who have made way for the legends of saints, or other ecclesiastical rubbish."[80] But we may reasonably question this opinion, when we consider the value of books in the middle ages, and with what esteem the monks regarded, in spite of all their paganism, those "heathen dogs" of the ancient world. A doubt has often forced itself upon my mind when turning over the "crackling leaves" of many ancient MSS., whether the peculiarity mentioned by Montfaucon, and described as parchment from which former writing had been erased, may not be owing, in many cases, to its mode of preparation. It is true, a great proportion of the membrane on which the writings of the middle ages are inscribed, appear rough and uneven, but I could not detect, through many manuscripts of a hundred folios—all of which evinced this roughness—the unobliterated remains of a single letter. And when I have met with instances, they appear to have been short writings—perhaps epistles; for the monks were great correspondents, and, I suspect, kept economy in view, and often carried on an epistolary intercourse, for a considerable time, with a very limited amount of parchment, by erasing the letter to make room for the answer. This, probably, was usual where the matter of their correspondence was of no especial importance; so that, what our modern critics, being emboldened by these faint traces of former writing, have declared to possess the classic appearance of hoary antiquity, may be nothing more than a complimentary note, or the worthless accounts of some monastic expenditure. But, careful as they were, what would these monks have thought of "paper-sparing Pope," who wrote his Iliad on small pieces of refuse paper? One of the finest passages in that translation, which describes the parting of Hector and Andromache, is written on part of a letter which Addison had franked, and is now preserved in the British Museum. Surely he could afford, these old monks would have said, to expend some few shillings for paper, on which to inscribe that for which he was to receive his thousand pounds.

But far from the monastic manuscripts displaying a scantiness of parchment, we almost invariably find an abundant margin, and a space between each line almost amounting to prodigality; and to say that the "vellum was considered more precious than the genius of the author,"[81] is absurd, when we know that, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a dozen skins of parchment could be bought for sixpence; whilst that quantity written upon, if the subject possessed any interest at all, would fetch considerably more, there always being a demand and ready sale for books.[82] The supposition, therefore, that the monastic scribes erased classical manuscripts for the sake of the material, seems altogether improbable, and certainly destitute of proof. It is true, many of the classics, as we have them now, are but mere fragments of the original work. For this, however, we have not to blame the monks, but barbarous invaders, ravaging flames, and the petty animosities of civil and religious warfare for the loss of many valuable works of the classics. By these means, one hundred and five books of Livy have been lost to us, probably forever. For the thirty which have been preserved, our thanks are certainly due to the monks. It was from their unpretending and long-forgotten libraries that many such treasures were brought forth at the revival of learning, in the fifteenth century, to receive the admiration of the curious, and the study of the erudite scholar. In this way Poggio Bracciolini discovered many inestimable manuscripts. Leonardo Aretino writes in rapturous terms on Poggio's discovery of a perfect copy of Quintillian. "What a precious acquisition!" he exclaims, "what unthought of pleasure to behold Quintillian perfect and entire!"[83] In the same letter we learn that Poggio had discovered Asconius and Flaccus in the monastery of St. Gall, whose inhabitants regarded them without much esteem. In the monastery of Langres, his researches were rewarded by a copy of Cicero's Oration for Cæcina. With the assistance of Bartolomeo di Montepulciano, he discovered Silius Italicus, Lactantius, Vegetius, Nonius Marcellus, Ammianus Marcellus, Lucretius, and Columella, and he found in a monastery at Rome a complete copy of Turtullian.[84] In the fine old monastery of Casino, so renowned for its classical library in former days, he met with Julius Frontinus and Firmicus, and transcribed them with his own hand. At Cologne he obtained a copy of Petronius Arbiter. But to these we may add Calpurnius's Bucolic,[85] Manilius, Lucius Septimus, Coper, Eutychius, and Probus. He had anxious hopes of adding a perfect Livy to the list, which he had been told then existed in a Cistercian Monastery in Hungary, but, unfortunately, he did not prosecute his researches in this instance with his usual energy. The scholar has equally to regret the loss of a perfect Tacitus, which Poggio had expectations of from the hands of a German monk. We may still more deplore this, as there is every probability that the monks actually possessed the precious volume.[86] Nicolas of Treves, a contemporary and friend of Poggio's, and who was infected, though in a slight degree, with the same passionate ardor for collecting ancient manuscripts, discovered, whilst exploring the German monasteries, twelve comedies of Plautus, and a fragment of Aulus Gellius.[87] Had it not been for the timely aid of these great men, many would have been irretrievably lost in the many revolutions and contentions that followed; and, had such been the case, the monks, of course, would have received the odium, and on their heads the spleen of the disappointed student would have been prodigally showered.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Martene Thesaurus novus Anecdot. tom. iv. col. 1462.

[41] See Du Cange in Voc., vol. vi. p. 264.

[42] Anglia Sacra, ii. 635. Fosbrooke Brit. Monach., p. 15.

[43] Martene Thes. Nov. Anec. tom. iv. col. 1462. Stat. Ord. Cistere, anni 1278, they were allowed for "Studendum vel recreandum."

[44] Hildesh. episc apud Leibuit., tom. i. Script. Brunsvic, p. 444. I am indebted to Du Cange for this reference.

[45] King's Munimenta Antiqua. Stevenson's Suppl. to Bentham, p. 64.

[46] Matt Paris, p. 51.

[47] Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry, p. cxiv. Regest. Nig. St. Edmund. Abbat.

[48] Stevenson's Sup. to Bentham's Church of Norwich, 4to. 1817, p. 51.

[49] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ritib., cap. xxi. tom. iii. p. 263.

[50] Ibid.

[51] Alcuini Opera, tom. ii. vol. i. p. 211. Carmin xvii.

[52] Preface to Ælfric's Homilies MS. Lansdowne, No. 373, vol. iv. in the British Museum.

[53] Const. Can. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263.

[54] MS. Harl. 6395, anecdote 348.—I am indebted to D'Israeli for the reference, but not for the extract.

[55] The monks were strictly enjoined by the monastic rules to study the Bible unceasingly. The Statutes of the Dominican order are particularly impressive on this point, and enforce a constant reading and critical study of the sacred volume, so as to fortify themselves for disputation; they were to peruse it continually, and apply to it before all other reading semper ante aliam lectionem. Martene Thesan. Nov. Anecdot., tom. iv. col. 1932. See also cols. 1789, 1836, 1912, 1917, 1934.

[56] About the year 1225 Roger de Insula, Dean of York, gave several copies of the bible to the University of Oxford, and ordered that those who borrowed them for perusal should deposit property of equal value as a security for their safe return.—Wood's Hist. Antiq. Oxon. ii. 48.

[57] Muratori Dissert. Quadragesima tertia, vol. iii. column 849.

[58] Astle's Origin of Writing, p. 193.—See also Montfaucon Palæographia Græca, lib. iv. p. 263 et 319.

[59] In the year 1300 the pay of a common scribe was about one half-penny a day, see Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the Church of Ely. p. 51.

[60] In some orders the monks were not allowed to sell their books without the express permission of their superiors. According to a statute of the year 1264 the Dominicans were strictly prohibited from selling their books or the rules of their order.—Martene Thesaur. Nov. Anecdot. tom. iv. col. 1741, et col. 1918.

[61] Vita Abbat. Wear. Ed. Ware, p. 26. His fine copy of the Cosmographers he bought at Rome.—Roma Benedictus emerat.

[62] Nosti quot Scriptores in Urbibus aut in Agris Italiæ passim habeantur.—Ep. cxxx. See also Ep. xliv. where he speaks of having purchased books in Italy, Germany and Belgium, at considerable cost. It is the most interesting Bibliomanical letter in the whole collection.

[63] Cottonian MS. in the Brit. Mus.—Claudius, E. iv. fo. 105, b.

[64] Epist. lxxi. p. 124, Edit. 4to. His words are—"Cum Dominus Rex Anglorum me nuper ad Dominum Regum Francorum nuntium distinasset, libri Legum venales Parisius oblati sunt mihi ab illo B. publico mangone librorum: qui cum ad opus cujusdam mei nepotis idoner viderentur conveni cum eo de pretio et eos apud venditorem dismittens, ei pretium numeravi; superveniente vero C. Sexburgensi Præposito sicut audini, plus oblulit et licitatione vincens libros de domo venditories per violentiam absportauit."

[65] Chevillier, Origines de l'Imprimerie de Paris, 4to. 1694, p. 301.

[66] "Actes concernant le pouvoir et la direction de l'Université de Paris sur les Ecrivains de Livres et les Imprimeurs qui leur ont succédé comme aussi sur les Libraires Relieurs et Enlumineurs," 4to. 1652, p. 44. It is very rare, a copy was in Biblioth. Teller, No. 132, p. 428. A statute of 1275 is given by Lambecii Comment. de Augus. Biblioth. Cæsarea Vendobon, vol. ii. pp. 252-267. The booksellers are called "Stationarii or Librarii;" de Stationariis, sive Librariis ut Stationarus, qui vulgo appellantur, etc. See also Du Cange, vol. vi. col. 716.

[67] Chevillier, p. 301, to whom I am deeply indebted in this branch of my inquiry.

[68] Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84. Chevillier, p. 302.

[69] The form of oath is given in full in the statute of 1323, and in that of 1342, Chevillier.

[70] Du Breuil, Le Théâtre des Antiq. de Paris, 4to. 1612, p. 608.

[71] Ibid., Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84.

[72] Chevillier, p. 303.

[73] Martene Anecd. tom. i. p. 502. Hist. Lit. de la France, ix. p. 142.

[74] Chevillier, 319, who gives a long list, printed from an old register of the University.

[75] Chevillier, 303.

[76] Vet. Stat. Universit. Oxoniæ, D. fol. 75. Archiv. Bodl.

[77] The Church of Norwich paid £22, 9s. for illuminating a Graduale and Consuetudinary in 1374.

[78] Isidore Orig., cap. ii.—Jerome, in his Preface to Job, writes, "Habeant qui volunt veteres libros, vel in membranes purpurus auro argentique colore purpuros aurum liquiscit in literis." Eddius Stephanus in his Life of St. Wilfrid, cap xvi., speaks of "Quatuor Evangeliæ de auro purissimo in membranis de purpuratis coloratis pro animæ suæ remidis scribere jusset." Du Cange, vol. iv. p. 654. See also Mabillon Act. Sanct., tom. v. p. 110, who is of opinion that these purple MSS. were only designed for princes; see Nouveau Traité de Diplomatique, and Montfaucon Palæog. Græc., pp. 45, 218, 226, for more on this subject.

[79] See a Fragment in the Brit. Mus. engraved in Shaw's Illuminated Ornaments, plate 1.

[80] Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 437. Mr. Maitland, in his "Dark Ages," enters into a consideration of this matter with much critical learning and ingenuity.

[81] D'Israeli Amenities of Lit., vol. i. p. 358.

[82] The Precentor's accounts of the Church of Norwich contain the following items:—1300, 5 dozen parchment, 2s. 6d., 40 lbs. of ink, 4s. 4d., 1 gallon of vini decrili, 3s., 4 lbs. of corporase, 4 lbs. of galls, 2 lbs. of gum arab, 3s. 4d., to make ink. I dismiss these facts with the simple question they naturally excite: that if parchment was so very scarce, what on earth did the monk want with all this ink?

[83] Leonardi Aretini Epist. 1. iv. ep. v.

[84] Mehi Præfatio ad vit Ambrosii Traversarii, p. xxxix.

[85] Mehi Præf., pp. xlviii.—xlix.

[86] A MS. containing five books of Tacitus which had been deemed lost was found in Germany during the pontificate of Leo X., and deposited in the Laurentian library at Florence.—Mehi Præf. p. xlvii. See Shepard's Life of Poggio, p. 104, to whom I am much indebted for these curious facts.

[87] Shepard's Life of Poggio, p. 101.

CHAPTER IV

Canterbury Monastery.—Theodore of Tarsus.—Tatwine.—Nothelm.—St. Dunstan.—Ælfric.—Lanfranc.—Anselm.—St. Augustine's books.—Henry de Estria and his Catalogue.—Chiclely.—Sellinge.—Rochester.—Gundulph, a Bible Student.—Radulphus.—Ascelin of Dover.—Glanvill, etc.

n the foregoing chapters I have endeavored to give the reader an insight into the means by which the monks multiplied their books, the opportunities they had of obtaining them, the rules of their libraries and scriptoria, and the duties of a monkish librarian. I now proceed to notice some of the English monastic libraries of the middle ages, and by early records and old manuscripts inquire into their extent, and revel for a time among the bibliomaniacs of the cloisters. On the spot where Christianity—more than twelve hundred years ago—first obtained a permanent footing in Britain, stands the proud metropolitan cathedral of Canterbury—a venerable and lasting monument of ancient piety and monkish zeal. St. Augustine, who brought over the glad tidings of the Christian faith in the year 596, founded that noble structure on the remains of a church which Roman Christians in remote times had built there. To write the literary history of its old monastery would spread over more pages than this volume contains, so many learned and bookish abbots are mentioned in its monkish annals. Such, however, is beyond the scope of my present design, and I have only to turn over those ancient chronicles to find how the love of books flourished in monkish days; so that, whilst I may here and there pass unnoticed some ingenious author, or only casually remark upon his talents, all that relate to libraries or book-collecting, to bibliophiles or scribes, I shall carefully record; and, I think, from the notes now lying before me, and which I am about to arrange in something like order, the reader will form a very different idea of monkish libraries than he previously entertained.

The name that first attracts our attention in the early history of Canterbury Church is that of Theodore of Tarsus, the father of Anglo-Saxon literature, and certainly the first who introduced bibliomania into this island; for when he came on his mission from Rome in the year 668 he brought with him an extensive library, containing many Greek and Latin authors, in a knowledge of which he was thoroughly initiated. Bede tells us that he was well skilled in metrical art, astronomy, arithmetic, church music, and the Greek and Latin languages.[88] At his death[89] the library of Christ Church Monastery was enriched by his valuable books, and in the time of old Lambarde some of them still remained. He says, in his quaint way, "The Reverend Father Mathew, nowe Archbishop of Canterburie, whose care for the conservation of learned monuments can never be sufficiently commended, shewed me, not long since, the Psalter of David, and sundrie homilies in Greek; Homer also and some other Greeke authors beautifully wrytten on thicke paper, with the name of this Theodore prefixed in the fronte, to whose librarie he reasonably thought, being thereto led by shew of great antiquitie that they sometimes belonged."[90]

Tatwine was a great book lover, if not a bibliomaniac. "He was renowned for religious wisdom, and notably learned in Sacred Writ."[91] If he wrote the many pieces attributed to him, his pen must have been prolific and his reading curious and diversified. He is said to have composed on profane and sacred subjects, but his works were unfortunately destroyed by the Danish invaders, and a book of poems and one of enigmas are all that have escaped their ravages. The latter work, preserved in our National Library, contains many curious hints, illustrative of the manners of those remote days.[92]

Nothelm, or the Bold Helm, succeeded this interesting author; he was a learned and pious priest of London. The bibliomaniac will somewhat envy the avocation of this worthy monk whilst searching over the rich treasures of the Roman archives, from whence he gleaned much valuable information to aid Bede in compiling his history of the English Church.[93] Not only was he an industrious scribe but also a talented author, if we are to believe Pits, who ascribes to him several works, with a Life of St. Augustine.[94]

It is well known that St. Dunstan was an ingenious scribe, and so passionately fond of books, that we may unhesitatingly proclaim him a bibliomaniac. He was a native of Wessex, and resided with his father near Glastonbury Abbey, which holy spot many a legendary tale rendered dear to his youthful heart. He entered the Abbey, and devoted his whole time to reading the wondrous lives and miracles of ascetic men till his mind became excited to a state of insanity by the many marvels and prodigies which they unfolded; so that he acquired among the simple monks the reputation of one holding constant and familiar intercourse with the beings of another world. On his presentation to the king, which was effected by the influence of his uncle Athelm, Archbishop of Canterbury, he soon became a great favorite, but excited so much jealousy there, that evil reports were industriously spread respecting him. He was accused of practising magical arts and intriguing with the devil. This induced him to retire again into the seclusion of a monastic cell, which he constructed so low that he could scarcely stand upright in it. It was large enough, however, to hold his forge and other apparatus, for he was a proficient worker in metals, and made ornaments, and bells for his church. He was very fond of music, and played with exquisite skill upon the harp.[95] But what is more to our purpose, his biographer tells us that he was remarkably skilful in writing and illuminating, and transcribed many books, adorning them with beautiful paintings, whilst in this little cell.[96] One of them is preserved in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. On the front is a painting of St. Dunstan kneeling before our Saviour, and at the top is written "Pictura et Scriptura hujus pagine subtas visi est de propria manu sei Dunstani."[97] But in the midst of these ingenious pursuits he did not forget to devote many hours to the study of the Holy Scriptures, as also to the diligent transcription and correction of copies of them,[98] and thus arming himself with the sacred word, he was enabled to withstand the numerous temptations which surrounded him. Sometimes the devil appeared as a man, and at other times he was still more severely tempted by the visitations of a beautiful woman, who strove by the most alluring blandishments to draw that holy man from the paths of Christian rectitude. In the tenth century such eminent virtues could not pass unrewarded, and he was advanced to the Archbishopric of Canterbury in the year 961, but his after life is that of a saintly politician, and displays nothing that need be mentioned here.

In the year 969,[99] Ælfric, abbot of St. Alban's, was elected archbishop of Canterbury. His identity is involved in considerable doubt by the many contemporaries who bore that name, some of whom, like him, were celebrated for their talent and erudition; but, leaving the solution of this difficulty to the antiquarian, we are justified in saying that he was of noble family, and received his education under Ethelwold, at Abingdon, about the year 960. He accompanied his master to Winchester, and Elphegus, bishop of that see, entertained so high an opinion of Ælfric's learning and capacity, that he sent him to superintend the recently founded monastery of Cerne, in Devonshire. He there spent all his hours, unoccupied by the duties of his abbatical office, in the transcription of books and the nobler avocations of an author. He composed a Latin Grammar, a work which has won for him the title of "The Grammarian," and he greatly helped to maintain the purity of the Christian church by composing a large collection of homilies, which became exceedingly popular during the succeeding century, and are yet in existence. The preface to these homilies contain several very curious passages illustrative of the mode of publication resorted to by the monkish authors, and on that account I am tempted to make the following extracts:

"I, Ælfric, the scholar of Ethelwold, to the courteous and venerable Bishop Sigeric, in the Lord.

"Although it may appear to be an attempt of some rashness and presumption, yet have I ventured to translate this book out of the Latin writers, especially those of the 'Holy Scriptures,' into our common language; for the edification of the ignorant, who only understand this language when it is either read or heard. Wherefore I have not used obscure or unintelligible words, but given the plain English. By which means the hearts, both of the readers and of the hearers, may be reached more easily; because they are incapable of being otherwise instructed, than in their native tongue. Indeed, in our translation, we have not ever been so studious to render word for word, as to give the true sense and meaning of our authors. Nevertheless, we have used all diligent caution against deceitful errors, that we may not be found seduced by any heresy, nor blinded by any deceit. For we have followed these authors in this translation, namely, St. Austin of Hippo, St. Jerome, Bede, Gregory, Smaragdus, and sometimes Haymo, whose authority is admitted to be of great weight with all the faithful. Nor have we only expounded the treatise of the gospels;... but have also described the passions and lives of the saints, for the use of the unlearned of this nation. We have placed forty discourses in this volume, believing this will be sufficient for one year, if they be recited entirely to the faithful, by the ministers of the Lord. But the other book which we have now taken in hand to compose will contain those passions or treatises which are omitted in this volume." ... "Now, if any one find fault with our translation, that we have not always given word for word, or that this translation is not so full as the treatise of the authors themselves, or that in handling of the gospels we have run them over in a method not exactly conformable to the order appointed in the church, let him compose a book of his own; by an interpretation of deeper learning, as shall best agree with his understanding, this only I beseech him, that he may not pervert this version of mine, which I hope, by the grace of God, without any boasting, I have, according to the best of my skill, performed with all diligence. Now, I most earnestly entreat your goodness, my most gentle father Sigeric, that you will vouchsafe to correct, by your care, whatever blemishes of malignant heresy, or of dark deceit, you shall meet with in my translation, and then permit this little book to be ascribed to your authority, and not to the meanness of a person of my unworthy character. Farewell in the Almighty God continually. Amen."[100]

I have before alluded to the care observed by the scribes in copying their manuscripts, and the moderns may deem themselves fortunate that they did so; for although many interpolations, or emendations, as they called them, occur in monkish transcripts, on the whole, their integrity, in this respect, forms a redeeming quality in connexion with their learning. In another preface, affixed to the second collection of his homilies, Ælfric thus explains his design in translating them:

"Ælfric, a monk and priest, although a man of less abilities than are requisite for one in such orders, was sent, in the days of King Æthelred, from Alphege, the bishop and successor of Æthelwold, to a monastery which is called Cernel, at the desire of Æthelmer, the Thane, whose noble birth and goodness is everywhere known. Then ran it in my mind, I trust, through the grace of God, that I ought to translate this book out of the Latin tongue into the English language not upon presumption of great learning, but because I saw and heard much error in many English books, which ignorant men, through their simplicity, esteemed great wisdom, and because it grieved me that they neither knew, nor had the gospel learning in their writing, except from those men that understood Latin, and those books which are to be had of King Alfred's, which he skilfully translated from Latin into English."[101]

From these extracts we may gain some idea of the state of learning in those days, and they would seem, in some measure, to justify the opinion, that the laity paid but little attention to such matters, and I more anxiously present the reader with these scraps, because they depict the state of literature in those times far better than a volume of conjecture could do. It is not consistent with my design to enter into an analysis of these homilies. Let the reader, however, draw some idea of their nature from the one written for Easter Sunday, which has been deemed sufficient proof that the Saxon Church ever denied the Romish doctrine of transubstantiation; for he there expressly states, in terms so plain that all the sophistry of the Roman Catholic writers cannot pervert its obvious meaning, that the bread and wine is only typical of the body and blood of our Saviour.

To one who has spent much time in reading the lives and writings of the monkish theologians, how refreshing is such a character as that of Ælfric's. Often, indeed, will the student close the volumes of those old monastic writers with a sad, depressed, and almost broken heart; so often will he find men who seem capable of better things, who here and there breathe forth all the warm aspirations of a devout and Christian heart, bowed down and grovelling in the dust, as it were, to prove their blind submission to the Pope, thinking, poor fellows!—for from my very heart I pity them—that by so doing they were preaching that humility so acceptable to the Lord.

Cheering then, to the heart it is to find this monotony broken by such an instance, and although we find Ælfric occasionally diverging into the paths of papistical error, he spreads a ray of light over the gloom of those Saxon days, and offers pleasing evidence that Christ never forsook his church; that even amidst the peril and darkness of those monkish ages there were some who mourned, though it might have been in a monastery, submissive to a Roman Pontiff, the depravity and corruption with which the heart of man had marred it.

To still better maintain the discipline of the church, he wrote a set of canons, which he addressed to Wulfin, or Wulfsine, bishop of Sherbourne. With many of the doctrines advocated therein, the protestant will not agree; but the bibliophile will admit that he gave an indication of his love of books by the 21st Canon, which directs that, "Before a priest can be ordained, he must be armed with the sacred books, for the spiritual battle, namely, a Psalter, Book of Epistles, Book of Gospels, the Missal Book, Books of Hymns, the Manual, or Euchiridion, the Gerim, the Passional, the Pænitential, and the Lectionary, or Reading Book; these the diligent priest requires, and let him be careful that they are all accurately written, and free from faults."[102]

About the same time, Ælfric wrote a treatise on the Old and New Testaments, and in it we find an account of his labors in Biblical Literature. He did more in laying open the holy mysteries of the gospel to the perusal of the laity, by translating them into the Saxon tongue, than any other before him. He gave them, in a vernacular version, the Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges, Esther, Job, Judith, two Books of Maccabees, and a portion of the Book of Kings, and it is for these labors, above all others, that the bible student will venerate his name, but he will look, perhaps, anxiously, hopefully, to these early attempts at Bible propagation, and expect to observe the ecclesiastical orders, at least, shake off a little of their absurd dependence on secondary sources for biblical instruction. But, no; they still sadly clung to traditional interpretation; they read the Word of God mystified by the fathers, good men, many of them, devout and holy saints, but why approach God through man, when we have His own prescription, in sweet encouraging words, to come, however humble or lowly we may be, to His throne, and ask with our own lips for those blessings so needful for the soul. Ælfric, in a letter addressed to Sigwerd, prefixed to his Treatise on the Old and New Testament, thus speaks of his biblical labors:

"Abbot Elfricke greeteth friendly, Sigwerd at last Heolon. True it is I tell thee that very wise is he who speaketh by his doings; and well proceedeth he doth with God and the world who furnisheth himselfe with good works. And very plaine it is in holy scripture, that holy men employed in well doing were in this world held in good reputation, and as saints now enjoy the kingdom of heaven, and the remembrance of them continueth for ever, because of their consent with God and relying on him, carelesse men who lead their life in all idleness and so end it, the memory of them is forgotten in holy writ, saving that the Old Testament records their ill deeds and how they were therefore comdemned. Thou hast oft entreated me for English Scripture .... and when I was with thee great mone thou madest that thou couldst get none of my writings. Now will I that thou have at least this little, since knowledge is so acceptable to thee, and thou wilt have it rather than be altogether without my books...... God bestoweth sevenfold grace on mankind, (whereof I have already written in another English Treatise,) as the prophet Isaiah hath recorded in the book of his prophesie." In speaking of the remaining books of the Pentateuch, he does so in a cursory manner, and excuses himself because he had "written thereof more at large." "The book which Moses wrote, called the book of Joshua, sheweth how he went with the people of Israel unto Abraham's country, and how he won it, and how the sun stood still while he got the victory, and how he divided the land; this book also I turned into English for prince Ethelverd, wherein a man may behold the great wonders of God really fulfilled." ...... "After him known it is that there were in the land certaine judges over Israel, who guided the people as it is written in the book of Judges ..... of this whoso hath desire to hear further, may read it in that English book which I translated concerning the same." ..... "Of the book of Kings, I have translated also some part into English," "the book of Esther, I briefly after my manner translated into English," and "The Widow Judith who overcame Holophernes, the Syrian General, hath her book also, among these, concerning her own victory and Englished according to my skill for your example, that ye men may also defend your country by force of arms, against the invasion of a foreign host." "Two books of Machabeus, to the glory of God, I have turned also into English, and so read them, you may if you please, for your instruction." And at the end we find him again admonishing the scribes to use the pen with faithfulness. "Whosoever," says he, "shall write out this book, let him write it according to the copy, and for God's love correct it, that it be not faulty, less he thereby be discredited, and I shent."[103]

This learned prelate died on the 16th of November, 1006, after a life spent thus in the service of Christ and the cause of learning; by his will he bequeathed to the Abbey of St. Alban's, besides some landed possessions, his little library of books;[104] he was honorably buried at Abingdon, but during the reign of Canute, his bones were removed to Canterbury.

Passing on a few years, we come to that period when a new light shone upon the lethargy of the Saxons; the learning and erudition which had been fostering in the snug monasteries of Normandy, hitherto silent—buried as it were—but yet fast growing to maturity, accompanied the sword of the Norman duke, and added to the glory of the conquering hero, by their splendid intellectual endowments. All this emulated and roused the Saxons from their slumber; and, rubbing their laziness away, they again grasped the pen with the full nerve and energy of their nature; a reaction ensued, literature was respected, learning prospered, and copious work flowed in upon the scribes; the crackling of parchment, and the din of controversy bespoke the presence of this revival in the cloisters of the English monasteries; books, the weapons spiritual of the monks, libraries, the magazines of the church militant were preserved, amassed, and at last deemed indispensable.[105] Such was the effect on our national literature of that gushing in of the Norman conquerors, so deeply imbued with learning, so polished, and withal so armed with classical and patristic lore were they.

Foremost in the rank we find the learned Lanfranc, that patron of literature, that indefatigable scribe and anxious book collector, who was endowed with an erudition far more deep and comprehensive than any other of his day. He was born at Pavia, in 1005, and received there the first elements of his education;[106] he afterwards went to Bologna, and from thence to Avranches, where he undertook the education of many celebrated scholars of that century, and instructed them in sacred and secular learning, in sacris et secularibus erudivi literis.[107] Whilst proceeding on a journey to Rome he was attacked by some robbers, who maltreated and left him almost dead; in this condition he was found by some peasants who conveyed him to the monastery of Bec; the monks with their usual hospitable charity tended and so assiduously nourished him in his sickness, that on his recovery he became one of their fraternity. A few years after, he was appointed prior and founded a school there, which did immense service to literature and science; he also collected a great library which was renowned and esteemed in his day,[108] and he increased their value by a critical revisal of their text. He was well aware that in works so voluminous as those of the fathers, the scribes through so many generations could not be expected to observe an unanimous infallibility; but knowing too that even the most essential doctrines of the holy and catholic church were founded on patristical authority, he was deeply impressed with the necessity of keeping their writings in all their primitive integrity; an end so desirable, well repaid the tediousness of the undertaking, and he cheerfully spent much time in collecting and comparing codices, in studying their various readings or erasing the spurious interpolations, engendered by the carelessness or the pious frauds of monkish scribes.[109] He lavished his care in a similar manner on the Bible: considering the far distant period from which that holy volume has descended to us, it is astounding that the vicissitudes, the perils, the darkness of near eighteen hundred years, have failed to mar the divinity of that sacred book; not all the blunders of nodding scribes could do it, not all the monkish interpolations, or the cunning of sectarian pens could do it, for in all times the faithful church of Christ watched over it with a jealous care, supplied each erasure and expelled each false addition. Lanfranc was one of the most vigilant of these Scripture guards, and his own industry blest his church with the bible text, purified from the gross handmarks of human meddling. I learn, from the Benedictines of St. Maur, that there is still preserved in the Abbey of St. Martin de Sécz, the first ten conferences of Cassian corrected by the efficient hand of this great critical student, at the end of the manuscript these words are written, "Hucusque ago Lanfrancus correxi."[110] The works of St. Ambrose, on which he bestowed similar care, are preserved in the library of St. Vincent du Mans.[111]

When he was promoted to the See of Canterbury, he brought with him a copious supply of books, and spread the influence of his learning over the English monasteries; but with all the cares inseparably connected with the dignity of Primate of England, he still found time to gratify his bookloving propensities, and to continue his critical labors; indeed he worked day and night in the service of the church, servitio Ecclesiæ, and in correcting the books which the scribes had written.[112] From the profusion of his library he was enabled to lend many volumes to the monks, so that by making transcripts, they might add to their own stores—thus we know that he lent to Paulen, Abbot of St. Albans, a great number, who kept his scribes hard at work transcribing them, and built a scriptorium for the transaction of these pleasing labors; but more of this hereafter.

Anselm, too, was a renowned and book-loving prelate, and if his pride and haughtiness wrought warm dissensions and ruptures in the church, he often stole away to forget them in the pages of his book. At an early age he acquired this fondness for reading, and whilst engaged as a monkish student, he applied his mind to the perusal of books with wonderful perseverance, and when some favorite volume absorbed his attention, he could scarce leave it night or day.[113] Industry so indefatigable ensured a certain success, and he became eminent for his deep and comprehensive learning; his epistles bear ample testimony to his extensive reading and intimate acquaintance with the authors of antiquity;[114] in one of his letters he praises a monk named Maurice, for his success in study, who was learning Virgil and some other old writers, under Arnulph the grammarian.

All day long Anselm was occupied in giving wise counsel to those that needed it; and a great part of the night pars maxima noctis he spent in correcting his darling volumes, and freeing them from the inaccuracies of the scribes.[115] The oil in the lamp burnt low, still that bibliomaniac studiously pursued his favorite avocation. So great was the love of book-collecting engrafted into his mind, that he omitted no opportunity of obtaining them—numerous instances occur in his epistles of his begging the loan of some volume for transcription;[116] in more than one, I think, he asks for portions of the Holy Scriptures which he was always anxious to obtain to compare their various readings, and to enable him with greater confidence to correct his own copies.

In the early part of the twelfth century, the monks of Canterbury transcribed a vast number of valuable manuscripts, in which they were greatly assisted by monk Edwine, who had arrived at considerable proficiency in the calligraphical art, as a volume of his transcribing, in Trinity college, Cambridge, informs us;[117] it is a Latin Psalter, with a Saxon gloss, beautifully illuminated in gold and colors; at the end appears the figure of the monkish scribe, holding the pen in his hand to indicate his avocation, and an inscription extols his ingenuity in the art.[118]

Succeeding archbishops greatly enriched the library at Canterbury. Hubert Walter, who was appointed primate in 1191, gave the proceeds of the church of Halgast to furnish books for the library;[119] and Robert Kildwardly, archbishop in 1272, a man of great learning and wisdom, a remarkable orator and grammarian, wrote a great number of books, and was passionately fond of collecting them.[120]

I learn from Wanley, that there is a large folio manuscript in the library of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, written about the time of Henry V. by a monk of St. Augustine's Abbey, Canterbury, containing the history of Christ Church; this volume proves its author to have been something of a bibliophile, and that is why I mention it, for he gives an account of some books then preserved, which were sent over by Pope Gregory to St. Augustine; these precious volumes consisted of a Bible in two volumes, called "Biblia Gregorian," beautifully written, with some of the leaves tinted with purple and rose-color, and the capital letters rubricated. This interesting and venerable MS. so immediately connected with the first ages of the Christian church of Britain, was in existence in the time of James I., as we learn by a passage in a scarce tract entitled "A Petition Apologetical," addressed by the Catholics to his majesty, where, as a proof that we derive our knowledge of Scripture originally from the church of Rome; they say, "The very original Bible, the self-same Numero which St. Gregory sent in with our apostle, St. Augustine, being as yet reserved by God's special providence, as testimony that what Scriptures we have, we had them from Rome."[121]

He next mentions two Psalters, one of which I have seen; it is among the manuscripts in the Cotton collection,[122] and bears full evidence of its great antiquity. This early gem of biblical literature numbers 160 folios; it contains the Roman Psalter, with a Saxon interlinear translation, written on stout vellum, in a clear, bold hand. On opening the volume, we find the first page enriched with a dazzling specimen of monkish skill—it is a painting of our Saviour pointing with his right hand to heaven, and in his left holding the sacred book; the corners are occupied with figures of animals, and the whole wrought on a glittering ground work, is rendered still more gorgeous by the contrast which the purple robes of Jesus display; on the reverse of this fine illumination there is a beautiful tesselated ornament, interwoven with animals, flowers, and grotesque figures, around which are miniatures of our Saviour, David, and some of the apostles. In a line at the bottom the word Catvsvir is inscribed. Very much inferior to this in point of art is the illumination, at folio 31, representing David playing his harp, surrounded by a musical coterie; it is probably the workmanship of a more modern, but less skilful scribe of the Saxon school. The smaller ornaments and initial letters throughout the manuscript display great intricacy of design.

The writer next describes two copies of the Gospels, both now in the Bodleian Collection at Oxford. A Passionarium Sanctorum, a book for the altar, on one side of which was the image of our Saviour wrought in gold, and lastly, an exposition of the Epistles and Gospels; the monkish bookworm tells us that these membraneous treasures were the most ancient books in all the churches of England.[123]

A good and liberal monk, named Henry De Estria, who was elected prior in the year 1285, devoted both his time and wealth to the interests of his monastery, and is said to have expended £900 in repairing the choir and chapter-house.[124] He wrote a book beginning, "Memoriale Henerici Prioris Monasteri Xpi Cantuariæ,"[125] now preserved in the Cotton collection; it contains the most extensive monastic catalogue I had ever seen, and sufficiently proves how Bibliomania flourished in that noble monastery. It occupies no less than thirty-eight treble-columned folio pages, and contains the titles of more than three thousand works. To attempt to convey to the reader an idea of this curious and sumptuous library, without transcribing a large proportion of its catalogue, I am afraid will be a futile labor; but as that would occupy too much space, and to many of my readers be, after all, dry and uninteresting, I shall merely give the names of some of the most conspicuous. Years indeed it must have required to have amassed a collection so brilliant and superb in those days of book scarcity. Surprise and wonder almost surpass the admiration we feel at beholding this proud testimonial of monkish industry and early bibliomania. Many a choice scribe, and many an Amator Librorum must have devoted his pen and purse to effect so noble an acquisition. Like most of the monastic libraries, it possessed a great proportion of biblical literature—copies of the Bible whole and in parts, commentaries on the same, and numerous glossaries and concordances show how much care the monks bestowed on the sacred writings, and how deeply they were studied in those old days. In patristic learning the library was unusually rich, embracing the most eminent and valuable writings of the Fathers, as may be seen by the following names, of whose works the catalogue enumerates many volumes:

• Augustine.
• Ambroise.
• Anselm.
• Alcuin.
• Aldelm.
• Benedict.
• Bernard.
• Bede.
• Beranger.
• Chrysostom.
• Eusebius.
• Fulgentius.
• Gregory.
• Hillarius.
• Isidore.
• Jerome.
• Lanfranc.
• Origen.

Much as we may respect them for all this, our gratitude will materially increase when we learn how serviceable the monks of Canterbury were in preserving the old dead authors of Greece and Rome. We do not, from the very nature of their lives being so devoted to religion and piety, expect this; and knowing, too, what "heathen dogs" the monks thought these authors of idolatry, combined with our notion, that they, far from being the conservers, were the destroyers, of classic MSS., for the sake, as some tell us, of the parchment on which they were inscribed, we are somewhat staggered in our opinion to find in their library the following brilliant array of the wise men of the ancient world:

• Aristotle,
• Boethius,
• Cicero,
• Cassiodorus,
• Donatus,
• Euclid,
• Galen,
• Justin,
• Josephus,
• Lucan,
• Martial,
• Marcianus,
• Macrobius,
• Orosius,
• Plato,
• Priscian,
• Prosper,
• Prudentius,
• Suetonius,
• Sedulus,
• Seneca,
• Terence,
• Virgil,
• Etc., etc.

Nor were they mere fragments of these authors, but, in many cases, considerable collections; of Aristotle, for instance, they possessed numerous works, with many commentaries upon him. Of Seneca a still more extensive and valuable one; and in the works of the eloquent Tully, they were also equally rich. Of his Paradoxa, de Senectute, de Amiticia, etc., and his Offices, they had more copies than one, a proof of the respect and esteem with which he was regarded. In miscellaneous literature, and in the productions of the middle age writers, the catalogue teems with an abundant supply, and includes:

• Rabanus Maurus,
• Thomas Aquinas,
• Peter Lombard,
• Athelard,
• William of Malmsbury,
• John of Salisbury,
• Girald Barry,
• Thomas Baldwin,
• Brutus,
• Robert Grosetete,
• Gerlandus,
• Gregory Nazianzen,
• History of England,
• Gesti Alexandri Magni,
• Hystoria Longobardos,
• Hystoriæ Scholasticæ,
• Chronicles Latine et Anglice,
• Chronographia Necephori.

But I trust the reader will not rest satisfied with these few samples of the goodly store, but inspect the catalogue for himself. It would occupy, as I said before, too much space to enumerate even a small proportion of its many treasures, which treat of all branches of literature and science, natural history, medicine, ethics, philosophy, rhetoric, grammar, poetry, and music; each shared the studious attention of the monks, and a curious "Liber de Astronomia" taught them the rudiments of that sublime science, but which they were too apt to confound with its offspring, astrology, as we may infer, was the case with the monks of Canterbury, for their library contained a "Liber de Astrolœbus," and the "Prophesies of Merlin."

Many hints connected with the literary portion of a monastic life may sometimes be found in these catalogues. It was evidently usual at Christ Church Monastery to keep apart a number of books for the private study of the monks in the cloister, which I imagine they were at liberty to use at any time.[126]

A portion of the catalogue of monk Henry is headed "Lib. de Armariole Claustre,"[127] under which it is pleasing to observe a Bible, in two volumes, specified as for the use of the infirmary, with devotional books, lives of the fathers, a history of England, the works of Bede, Isidore, Boethius, Rabanus Maurus, Cassiodorus, and many others of equal celebrity. In another portion of the manuscript, we find a list of their church books, written at the same time;[128] it affords a brilliant proof of the plentitude of the gospels among them; for no less than twenty-five copies are described. We may judge to what height the art of bookbinding had arrived by the account here given of these precious volumes. Some were in a splendid coopertoria of gold and silver, and others exquisitely ornamented with figures of our Saviour and the four Evangelists.[129] But this extravagant costliness rendered them attractive objects to pilfering hands, and somewhat accounts for the lament of the industrious Somner, who says that the library was "shamefully robbed and spoiled of them all."[130]

Our remarks on the monastic library at Canterbury are drawing to a close. Henry Chiclely, archbishop in 1413, an excellent man, and a great promoter of learning, rebuilt the library of the church, and furnished it with many a choice tome.[131] His esteem for literature was so great, that he built two colleges at Oxford.[132] William Sellinge, who was a man of erudition, and deeply imbued with the book-loving mania, was elected prior in 1472. He is said to have studied at Bonania, in Italy; and, during his travels, he gathered together "all the ancient authors, both Greek and Latine, he could get," and returned laden with them to his own country. Many of them were of great rarity, and it is said that a Tully de Republica was among them. Unfortunately, they were all burnt by a fire in the monastery.[133]

I have said enough, I think, to show that books were eagerly sought after, and deeply appreciated, in Canterbury cloisters during the middle ages, and when the reader considers that these facts have been preserved from sheer accident, and, therefore, only enable us to obtain a partial glimpse of the actual state of their library, he will be ready to admit that bibliomania existed then, and will feel thankful, too, that it did, for to its influence, surely, we are indebted for the preservation of much that is valuable and instructive in history and general literature.[134]

We can scarcely leave Kent without a word or two respecting the church of the Rochester monks. It was founded by King Ethelbert, who conferred upon it the dignities of an episcopal see, in the year 600; and, dedicating it to St. Andrew, completed the good work by many donations and emoluments. The revenues of the see were always limited, and it is said that its poverty caused it to be treated with kind forbearance by the ecclesiastical commissioners at the period of the Reformation.

I have not been able to meet with any catalogue of its monastic library, and the only hints I can obtain relative to their books are such as may be gathered from the recorded donations of its learned prelates and monks. In the year 1077, Gundulph, a Norman bishop, who is justly celebrated for his architectural talents, rebuilt the cathedral, and considerable remains of this structure are still to be seen in the nave and west front, and display that profuse decoration united with ponderous stability, for which the Norman buildings are so remarkable. This munificent prelate also enriched the church with numerous and costly ornaments; the encouragement he gave to learning calls for some notice here. Trained in one of the most flourishing of the Norman schools, we are not surprised that in his early youth he was so studious and inquisitive after knowledge as to merit the especial commendation of his biographer.[135] William of Malmsbury, too, highly extols him "for his abundant piety," and tells us that he was not inexperienced in literary avocations; he was polished and courageous in the management of judicial affairs, and a close, devoted student of the divine writings;[136] as a scribe he was industrious and critical, and the great purpose to which he applied his patience and erudition was a careful revisal of the Holy Scriptures. He purged the sacred volume of the inadvertencies of the scribes, and restored the purity of the text; for transcribing after transcribing had caused some errors and diversity of readings to occur, between the English and foreign codices, in spite of all the pious care of the monastic copyists; this was perplexing, an uniformity was essential and he undertook the task;[137] labors so valuable deserve the highest praise, and we bestow it more liberally upon him for this good work than we should have done had he been the compiler of crude homilies or the marvellous legends of saints. The high veneration in which Gundulph held the patristic writings induced him to bestow his attention in a similar manner upon them, he compared copies, studied their various readings and set to work to correct them. The books necessary for these critical researches he obtained from the libraries of his former master, Bishop Lanfranc, St. Anselm, his schoolfellow, and many others who were studying at Bec, but besides this, he corrected many other authors, and by comparing them with ancient manuscripts, restored them to their primitive beauty. Fabricius[138] notices a fine volume, which bore ample testimony to his critical erudition and dexterity as a scribe. It is described as a large Bible on parchment, written in most beautiful characters, it was proved to be his work by this inscription on its title page, "Prima pars Bibliæ per bona memoriæ Gundulphum Rossensem Episcopum." This interesting manuscript, formerly in the library of the monks of Rochester, was regarded as one of their most precious volumes. An idea of the great value of a Bible in those times may be derived from the curious fact that the bishop made a decree directing "excommunication to be pronounced against whosoever should take away or conceal this volume, or who should even dare to conceal the inscription on the front, which indicated the volume to be the property of the church of Rochester." But we must bear in mind that this was no ordinary copy, it was transcribed by Gundulph's own pen, and rendered pure in its text by his critical labors. But the time came when anathemas availed nought, and excommunication was divested of all terror. "Henry the Eighth," the "Defender of the Faith," frowned destruction upon the monks, and in the tumult that ensued, this treasure was carried away, anathema and all. Somehow or other it got to Amsterdam, perhaps sent over in one of those "shippes full," to the bookbinders, and having passed through many hands, at last found its way into the possession of Herman Van de Wal, Burgomaster of Amsterdam; since then it was sold by public auction, but has now I believe been lost sight of.[139] Among the numerous treasures which Gundulph gave to his church, he included a copy of the Gospels, two missals and a book of Epistles.[140] Similar books were given by succeeding prelates; Radolphus, a Norman bishop in 1108, gave the monks several copies of the gospels beautifully adorned.[141] Earnulphus, in the year 1115, was likewise a benefactor in this way; he bestowed upon them, besides many gold and silver utensils for the church, a copy of the gospels, lessons for the principal days, a benedictional, or book of blessings, a missal, handsomely bound, and a capitular.[142] Ascelin, formerly prior of Dover, and made bishop of Rochester, in the year 1142, gave them a Psalter and the Epistles of St. Paul, with a gloss.[143] He was a learned man, and excessively fond of books; a passion which he had acquired no doubt in his monastery of Dover which possessed a library of no mean extent.[144] He wrote a commentary on Isaiah, and gave it to the monastery; Walter, archdeacon of Canterbury, who succeeded Ascelin, gave a copy of the gospels bound in gold, to the church;[145] and Waleran, elected bishop in the year 1182, presented them with a glossed Psalter, the Epistles of Paul, and the Sermons of Peter.[146]

Glanvill, bishop in the year 1184, endeavored to deprive the monks of the land which Gundulph had bestowed upon them; this gave to rise to many quarrels[147] which the monks never forgave; it is said that he died without regret, and was buried without ceremony; yet the curious may still inspect his tomb on the north side of the altar, with his effigies and mitre lying at length upon it.[148] Glanvill probably repented of his conduct, and he strove to banish all animosity by many donations; and among other treasures, he gave the monks the five books of Moses and other volumes.[149]

Osbern of Shepey, who was prior in the year 1189, was a great scribe and wrote many volumes for the library; he finished the Commentary of Ascelin, transcribed a history of Peter, a Breviary for the chapel, a book called De Claustra animæ, and wrote the great Psalter which is chained to the choir and window of St. Peter's altar.[150] Ralph de Ross, and Heymer de Tunebregge,[151] also bestowed gifts of a similar nature upon the monks; but the book anecdotes connected with this monastic fraternity are remarkably few, barren of interest, and present no very exalted idea of their learning.[152]

FOOTNOTES:

[88] Bede, iv. cap. ii.

[89] He died in 690, and was succeeded by Bertwold, Abbot of Reculver, Saxon Chronicle, Ingram, p. 57. Bede speaks of Bertwold as "well learned in Scripture and Ecclesiastical Literature."—Eccl. Hist. b. v. c. viii.

[90] Preambulation of Kent, 4to. 1576, p. 233. Parker's Ant. Brit. p. 80.

[91] He was consecrated on the 10th of June, 731, Bede, v. c. xxiii.

[92] M.S. Reg. 12, c. xxiii. I know of no other copy. Leland says that he saw a copy at Glastonbury.

[93] Bede's Eccl. Hist. Prologue.

[94] Pitseus Angliæ Scrip. 1619, p. 141. Dart's Hist. Canterbury, p. 102.

[95] Cottonian MS. Cleopatra, B. xiii. fo. 70.

[96] W. Malm, de Vita, Dunst. ap. Leland, Script. tom. 1. p. 162. Cotton. MS. Fanstin, B. 13.

[97] Strutt's Saxon. Antiq. vol. 1, p. 105, plate xviii. See also Hicke's Saxon Grammar, p. 104.

[98] MS. Cotton., Cleop. b. xiii. fo. 69. Mabd. Acta Sancto. vii. 663.

[99] Saxon Chron. by Ingram, 171.

[100] Landsdowne MS. in Brit. Mus. 373, vol. iv.

[101] Landsdowne MS. in Brit. Mus. 373, vol. iv.

[102] Can. 21, p. 577, vol. i.