of room left for 6 desks, each 21 ft. long. I have placed the _spalliera_,
with its four coffers (_capsae_) under the seat, below the window. This
piece of furniture, in modern Italian _spalliera_, French _epauliere_, is
common in large houses at the present day. It usually stands in an
ante-room or on a landing of one of the long staircases. A portion at
least of the _spalliere_ used in this Library are still in existence. They
stood in the vestibule of the present Vatican Library until a short time
ago, when the present Pope had them removed to the Appartamento Borgia,
where they stand against the wall round one of the rooms. There are two
distinct designs of different heights and ornamentation. The photograph
here reproduced (fig. 100) was taken specially for my use. The _spalliere_
have evidently been a good deal altered in the process of fitting up, and
moreover, as it is impossible to discover whether we have the whole or
only a part of what once existed, it is useless to make any suggestion,
from the length of the portions that remain, as to which room they may
once have fitted. They are excellent specimens of inlaid work. That on the
right, with the row of crosses along the cornice, is 6 ft. 2 in. high, and
66 ft. long. That on the left is 5 ft. 10 in. high, and 24 ft. 7 in. long.
The capsae project from the wall 1 ft. 4 in., and are 2 ft. high. Their
lids vary a little in length, from 3 ft. 11 in. to 4 ft. 10 in.
[Illustration: Fig. 100. The library-settles (_spalliere_) once used in
the Vatican Library of Sixtus IV., and now in the Appartamento Borgia.
From a photograph.]
But the presence of a _spalliera_ is not the only peculiarity in the
furniture of this room. Platina's catalogue shews that, connected in some
manner with each seat, were two coffers (_capsae_): and we have seen that
12 such chests were brought into the Library in 1481. I have placed these
in pairs at the ends of the desks opposite the settle (_spalliera_).
_Innermost Library_, or _Bibliotheca pontificia_. This Library contained
12 desks. These, from their number, must have stood east and west. There
was also a _spalliera_, which held the Papal Registers. I have placed it
in the recess on the north side of the room, which looks as though made
for it.
It should be noted that there was a map of the world in the Library, for
which a frame was bought in 1478[402]; and a couple of globes--the one
celestial, the other terrestrial. Covers made of sheepskin were bought for
them in 1477[403]. Globes with and without such covers are shewn in the
view of the Library of the University of Leyden taken in 1610 (fig. 69);
and M. Fabre reminds us that globes still form part of the furniture of
the Library of the Palazzo Barberini in Rome, fitted up by Cardinal
Francesco Barberini, 1630-40[404].
Comfort was considered by the provision of a brazier on wheels "that it
may be moved from place to place in the Library[405]."
The following curious rule, copied, as it would appear, in the Library
itself, by Claude Bellievre of Lyons, who visited Rome about 1513, shews
that order was strictly enforced:
Nonnulla quae collegi in bibliotheca Vaticani. Edictum S.
D. N. Ne quis in bibliotheca cum altero contentiose
loquatur et obstrepat, neve de loco ad locum iturus
scamna transcendat et pedibus conterat, atque libros
claudat et in locum percommode reponat. Ubique volet
perlegerit. Secus qui faxit foras cum ignominia mittetur
atque hujusce loci aditu deinceps arcebitur[406].
Before concluding, I must quote an interesting description of this Library
by Montaigne:
Le 6 de Mars [1581] je fus voir la librerie du Vatican
qui est en cinq ou six salles tout de suite. Il y a un
grand nombre de livres ataches sur plusieurs rangs de
pupitres; il y en a aussi dans des coffres, qui me
furent tous ouverts; force livres ecris a mein et
notamment un Seneque et les Opuscules de Plutarche. J'y
vis de remercable la statue du bon Aristide[407] a tout
une bele teste chauve, la barbe espesse, grand front, le
regard plein de douceur et de mageste: son nom est
escrit en sa base tres antique....[408]
Je la vis [la Bibliotheque] sans nulle difficulte;
chacun la voit einsin et en extrait ce qu'il vent; et
est ouverte quasi tous les matins, et si fus conduit
partout, et convie par un jantilhomme d'en user quand je
voudrois[409].
Sixtus IV. intended the library attached to the Holy See to be of the
widest possible use. In the document appointing Demetrius of Lucca
librarian, after Platina's death, he says distinctly that the library has
been got together "for the use of all men of letters, both of our own age,
or of subsequent time[410]"; and that these are not rhetorical
expressions, to round a phrase in a formal letter of appointment, is
proved by the way in which manuscripts were lent out of the library,
during the whole time that Platina was in office. The Register of Loans,
beginning with his own appointment and ending in 1485, has been printed by
Muentz and Fabre, from the original in the Vatican Library[411], and a most
interesting record it is. It is headed by a few words of warning, of which
I give the general sense rather than a literal translation.
Whoever writes his name here in acknowledgment of books
received on loan out of the Pope's library, will incur
his anger and his curse unless he return them uninjured
within a very brief period.
This statement is made by Platina, librarian to his
Holiness, who entered upon his duties on the last day of
February, 1475[412].
Each entry records the title of the book lent, with the name of the
borrower. This entry is sometimes made by the librarian, but more
frequently by the borrower himself. When the book is returned, Platina or
his assistant notes the fact, with the date. The following entry, taken
almost at random, will serve as a specimen:
Ego Gaspar de Ozino sapientissimi domini nostri
cubicularius anno salutis MCCCCLXXV die vero XXI Aprilis
confiteor habuisse nomine mutui a domino Platina
Lecturam sive commentum in pergameno super libris X
Etticorum Aristotelis, et in fidem omnium mea propria
manu scripsi et supscripsi. Liber autem pavonatio
copertus est in magno volumine.----Idem Gaspar manu
propria.----Restituit fideliter librum ipsum et
repositus est inter philosophos die XXVIII April 1475.
It is occasionally noted that a book is lent with its chain, as for
instance:
Christoforus prior S. Balbine habuit Agathium Historicum
ex banco viii^o cum cathena.... Restituit die XX
Octobris post mortem Platyne.
When no chain is mentioned are we to understand that the book was not so
protected, and that there were in the library a number of books without
chains, perhaps for the purpose of being more conveniently borrowed?
A few words should be added on the staff of the library. At first--that is
during the year 1475--Platina had under his orders three subordinates,
Demetrius, Salvatus, and John. These are called writers (_scriptores_) or
keepers (_custodes_); and Salvatus is once called librarian (_librarius_),
but it will be shewn below that this word means a writer rather than a
librarian, as we understand the word. The position of these persons was
extremely humble; and Salvatus was so indigent that his shoes were mended
at the Pope's expense, and a decent suit of clothes provided for him at
the cost of eight ducats[413]. Besides these there was a bookbinder, also
called John. In the following year two keepers only are mentioned,
Demetrius and Josias. The latter died of the plague in 1478. The salary of
the librarian was at the rate of ten ducats a month, and that of each of
his subordinates at the rate of one ducat for the same period. This
arrangement appears to have been confirmed by a Bull of Sixtus IV. before
the end of 1477[414].
These officers and Platina appear to have lived together in the rooms
adjoining the Latin Library, as shewn by the accounts for the purchase of
beds, furniture, and the like[415]; and when Josias falls ill of the
plague, Platina sends away Demetrius and John the bookbinder, "for fear
they should die or infect others[416]."
All articles required for the due maintenance of the library were provided
by Platina. The charges for binding and lettering are the most numerous.
Skins were bought in the gross--on one occasion as many as 600--and then
prepared for use. All other materials, as gold, colours, varnish, nails,
horn, clasps, etc., were bought in detail, when required; and probably
used in some room adjoining the library. Platina also saw to the
illumination (_miniatio_) of such MSS. as required it.
Comfort and cleanliness were not forgotten. There are numerous charges for
coals, with an amusing apology for their use in winter "because the place
was so cold"; and for juniper to fumigate (_ad suffumigandum_). Brooms are
bought to clean the library, and fox-tails to dust the books (_ad
tergendos libros_[417]).
It should further be mentioned that Sixtus assigned an annual income to
the library by a brief dated 15th July, 1477. It is therein stipulated
that the fees, paid according to custom by all officials appointed to any
office vacated by resignation, should thenceforward be transferred to the
account of the library[418].
While Sixtus IV. was thus engaged in Rome, a rival collector, Federigo da
Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino (1444--1482), was devoting such leisure as he
could snatch from warfare to similar pursuits. The room in which he stored
his treasures is practically unaltered. It differs materially in
arrangement from the other libraries of the same period. This difference
is perhaps due to its position in a residence which was half palace, half
castle. It is on the ground floor of a building which separates the inner
from the outer court. It measures 45 ft. in length, by 20 ft. 9 in. in
width. The walls are about 14 ft. high to the spring of the barrel-vault
which covers the whole space. There are two large windows at the north end
of the room, and one at the south end. These are about 7 ft. from the
ground. The original entrance was through a door into the inner court, now
blocked. In the centre of the vault is a large eagle in relief with F.D.
on each side of its head; round it is a wreath of cherubs' heads: and
outside of all a broad band of flames and rays. The vault is further
decorated with isolated flames, gilt, on a white ground[419].
The books are said to have occupied eight presses, or sets of shelves, set
against the east and west walls, but our information on the subject of the
fittings is provokingly meagre. It is chiefly contained in the following
passage of a description written by Bernardino Baldi, and dated 10 June,
1587. Baldi, as a native of Urbino, and in later life attached to the
service of the Duke, must have been well acquainted with the room and its
contents.
La stanza destinata a questi libri e alia mano sinistra
di chi entra nel Palazzo contigua al vestibolo, o andito
... le fenestre ha volte a Tramontana, le quali per
esser alte dal pavimento, ed in testa della stanza, e
volte a parte di cielo che non ha sole, fanno un certo
lume rimesso, il quale pare col non distraer la vista
con la soverchia abbondanza della luce, che inviti ed
inciti coloro rhe v'entrano a studiare. La state e
freschissima, l' inverno temperatamente calda. Le
scanzie de' libri sono accostate alle mura, e disposte
con molto bell' ordine.
In questa fra gli altri libri sono due Bibbie, una
latina scritta a penna e miniata per mano di
eccellentissimi artefici, e l' altra Ebrea antichissima
scritta pure a mano ... Questa si posa sopra un gran
leggivo d' ottone, e s' appoggia all' ale d' una grande
aquila pur d' ottone che aprendole la sostiene. Intorno
alle cornici che circondano la libreria si leggono
scritti nel fregio questi versi[420].
In the preface to the catalogue of the library published at Rome in 1895,
the author, after quoting the above passage, adds "There were eight
presses each containing seven shelves"[421]. The architectural decorations
have all disappeared, with the exception of a fragment of a pediment at
the south end of the room, on which F. E. DVX is still visible. The
lectern is in the choir of the cathedral.
The Biblioteca Laurenziana, or Medicean Library, at Florence, is the last
Italian library which I intend to describe.
After the death of Pope Leo X. in 1521, his executor Cardinal Giulio dei
Medici, afterwards Pope Clement VII., restored to Florence the books which
their ancestors had got together, and commissioned Michelangelo to build a
room for their reception. The work was frequently interrupted, and it was
not until 1571 (11 June) that the library was formally opened.
The great architect, supported by the generosity of the Pope, constructed
an apartment which for convenience and for appropriate decoration stands
alone among libraries. It is raised high above the ground in order to
secure an ample supply of light and air, and is approached by a double
staircase of marble. It is 151 ft. 9 in. long, by 34 ft. 4 in. broad, and
was originally lighted by 15 windows in each of the side-walls at a height
of about 7 ft. 6 in. from the floor. There is a flat roof of wood, carved;
and a pavement of terra-cotta consisting of yellow designs on a red
ground.
When the room was first fitted up there were 44 desks on each side, but
when the reading-room was built at the beginning of the last century,
four were destroyed. This reading-room also blocks four windows. The glass
was supplied by Giovanni da Udine in 1567 and 1568. The subjects are
heraldic. In each window the arms of the Medici occupy a central position,
and are surrounded by wreaths, arabesques, and other devices of infinite
grace and variety, in the style which the genius of Raphael had introduced
into the Vatican.
[Illustration: Fig. 101. Bookcases in the Medicean Library, Florence.]
The bookcases (fig. 101) are of walnut-wood, a material which is said to
have been prescribed by the Pope himself. They were executed, if we may
believe Vasari[422], by Battista del Cinque and Ciapino, but they are now
known to have been designed by Michelangelo. A rough outline in one of his
sketch-books, preserved in the Casa Buonarotti at Florence with other
relics illustrating his life, and here reproduced (fig. 102),
unquestionably represents one of these desks. The indication of a human
figure on the seat proves the care which he took to ensure a height
convenient for readers.
[Illustration: Fig. 102. Copy, slightly reduced, of a sketch by
Michelangelo for one of the bookcases in the Medicean Library, Florence.]
These desks are on the same general plan as those at Cesena, but they are
rather higher and more richly ornamented. Each is 11 ft. 3 in. long, and 4
ft. 4 in. high. It must be admitted that the straight back to the reader's
seat is not so comfortable as the gentle slope provided in the older
example. A frame for the catalogue hangs on the end of each desk next the
central alley. In order to make clear the differences in the construction
of the desks at Cesena and at Florence I append an elevation of each
(figs. 103, 104).
[Illustration: Fig. 103. Elevation of desks at Cesena.]
[Illustration: Fig. 104. Elevation of desks at Florence.]
It will be seen from the view of one of the desks (fig. 101) that the
books either lie on the sloping desk or are packed away on the shelf under
it. There is an average of 25 books on each desk. The chains, as at
Cesena, are attached to the lower edge of the right board, at distances
varying from 2 in. to 4 in. from the back of the book (fig. 105). The
staple is sunk into the wood.
[Illustration: Fig. 105. A book in the Medicean Library, to shew
attachment of chain.]
The chains are made of fine iron bars about one-eighth of an inch wide,
but not quite so thick, flattened at the end of each link, and rounded in
the centre, where a piece of the same iron is lapped round, but not
soldered. Each chain (fig. 106) is 2 ft. 3 in. long. So far as I could
judge all the chains in the library are of the same length. There is a
ring at the end of the chain next to the bar, but no swivel.
[Illustration: Fig. 106. Piece of chain in the Medicean Library, of the
actual size.]
The ironwork by which these chains are attached to the desk is somewhat
complicated. By the kindness of the librarian, Signor Guido Biagi, I have
been allowed to study it at my leisure, and to draw a diagrammatic sketch
(fig. 107) which I hope will make it clear to my readers. The lock is sunk
in the central support of the desk. The bar passes through a ring on each
side of this support, and also through a ring near each end of the desk.
These rings are fixed to the lower edge of the desk just under the
molding. A flat piece of iron is forged on to the bar near the centre.
This iron is pierced near the key-hole with an oblong slit through which
passes a moveable piece of iron, here shewn in outline of its actual size
(fig. 108). The bolt of the lock passes through a hole in this piece, and
holds the bar firmly in its place.
[Illustration: Fig. 107. Diagram to explain the ironwork at the Medicean
Library.]
[Illustration: Fig. 108. Outline of bolt forming part of ironwork.]
The bar is not quite so long as the desk; consequently, when it has been
unlocked, and the iron bolt sketched above withdrawn, it can be turned
round by taking hold of the central iron, and pushed to the right or to
the left, past the terminal rings. The chains can then be readily
unstrung, or another strung upon the bar.
In the next chapter I shall describe the changes in Library arrangements
adopted during the period which succeeded the Middle Ages; but, before
ending this present chapter, there are a few points affecting the older
libraries and their organization to which I should like to draw attention.
In the first place all medieval libraries were practically public. I do
not mean that strangers were let in, but even in those of the monasteries,
books were let out on the deposit of a sufficient caution; and in Houses
such as S. Victor and S. Germain des Pres, Paris, and at the Cathedral of
Rouen, the collections were open to readers on certain days in the week.
The Papal library and those at Urbino and Florence were also public; and
even at Oxford and Cambridge there was practically no objection to lending
books on good security. Secular corporations followed the example set by
the Church, and lent their manuscripts, but only on security. A very
remarkable example of this practice is afforded by the transaction between
the Ecole de Medecine, Paris, and Louis XI. The king wanted their copy of
a certain work on medicine; they declined to lend it unless he deposited
12 marks worth of plate and 100 gold crowns. This he agreed to do; the
book was borrowed; duly copied, and 24 January, 1472, restored to the
Medical Faculty, who in their turn sent back the deposit to the king[423].
As a general rule, these libraries were divided into the lending library
and the library of reference. These two parts of the collection have
different names given to them. In the Vatican Library of Sixtus IV. we
find the common library (_Bibliotheca communis_) or public library (_B.
publica_), and the reserved library (_B. secreta_). The same terms were
used at Assisi. At Santa Maria Novella, Florence, there was the library,
and the lesser library (_B. minor_). In the University Library, Cambridge,
there was "the public library" which contained the more ordinary books and
was open to everybody, and "the private library" where the more valuable
books were kept and to which only a few privileged persons were
admitted[424]. At Queens' College, in the same university, the books which
might be lent (_libri distribuendi_) were kept in a separate room from
those which were chained to the shelves (_libri concatenati_), and at
King's College there was a public library (_B. magna_) and a lesser
library (_B. minor_). In short, in every large collection some such
division was made, either structural, or by means of a separate
catalogue[425].
I have shewn that two systems of bookcases, which I have called
lectern-system and stall-system, were used in these libraries; but, as
both these have been copiously illustrated, I need say no more on that
part of the subject. Elaborate catalogues, of which I have given a few
specimens, enabled readers to find what they wanted in the shortest
possible time, and globes, maps, and astronomical instruments provided
them with further assistance in their studies. Moreover in some places the
library served the purpose of a museum, and curiosities of various kinds
were stored up in it.
No picture of a medieval library can be complete unless it be remembered
that in many cases beauty was no less an object than utility. The
bookcases were fine specimens of carpentry-work, carved and decorated; the
pavement was of encaustic tiles worked in patterns; the walls were
decorated with plaster-work in relief; the windows were filled with
stained glass; and the roof-timbers were ornamented with the coat-armour
of benefactors.
Of these embellishments the most distinctive was the glass. At St Albans
the twelve windows contained figures illustrating the subjects of the
books placed near them. For instance, the second window represented
Rhetoric and Poetry; and the figures selected were those of Cicero,
Sallust, Musaeus, Orpheus. Appropriate verses were inscribed beneath each.
The whole scheme recalls the library of Isidore, Bishop of Seville, which
I have already described[426]. In the library of Jesus College,
Cambridge, each light contains a cock standing on a globe, the emblem of
Bishop Alcock the founder, with a label in his beak bearing a suitable
text, and under his feet an inscription containing half the designation
required. For instance, the first two bookcases contained works on Physic,
and in the window is the word PHI-SICA divided between the two
lights[427]. In Election Hall at Eton College--a room originally intended
for a library--we find the Classes of Civil Law, Criminal and Canon Law,
Medicine, etc., illustrated by medallions shewing a church council, an
execution, a physician and his patient, and the like[428]. At the
Sorbonne, Paris, the 38 windows of the library were filled with the
portraits of those who had conferred special benefits on the college[429];
at Froidmont[430] near Beauvais the authors of the _Voyage Litteraire_
remark the beautiful stained glass in the library: and in Bishop Cobham's
library at Oxford, according to Hearne, there "was brave painted glass
containing the arms of the benefactors, which painted glass continued till
the times of the late rebellion[431]."
Lastly, I will collect the different terms used to designate medieval
bookcases. They are--arranged alphabetically--_analogium_, _bancus_ or
_banca_, _descus_, _gradus_, _stallum_, _stalla_, _stallus_ or _staulum_,
and _sedile_. I have sometimes thought that it would be possible to
determine the form of the bookcase from the word used to describe it; but
increased study has convinced me that this is impossible, and that the
words were used quite loosely. For instance, _bancus_ designates the cases
in the Vatican Library which represent a variety of the lectern-system;
and its French equivalent _banc_ the cases at Clairvaux which were stalls
with four shelves apiece. Again "desk" (_descus_) is used interchangeably
with "stall" (_stallum_) in a catalogue of the University Library,
Cambridge, dated 1473, to designate what I strongly suspect were lecterns;
in 1693 by Bishop Hacket when describing the stalls which Dean Williams
gave to the library at Westminster Abbey[432]: and in 1695 by Sir C. Wren
to describe bookcases which were partly set against the walls, partly at
right-angles to them.
It has been already shewn that _gradus_ means a shelf, or a lectern, or a
side of a lectern[433]; and _sedile_ is obviously only the Latin
equivalent for "seat," which was sometimes used, as at S. John's College,
Cambridge, in 1623[434], to designate a bookcase. It was also used at
Christ Church, Canterbury, for what I have shewn to be a stall with four
shelves[435]. The word _analogium_ was used in France to signify a
lectern[436]. The word "class" (_classis_) is used at the University
Library, Cambridge, in 1584, instead of the ancient "stall," and
afterwards superseded it entirely. For instance, when a Syndicate was
appointed in 1713 to provide accommodation for Bishop Moore's Library, the
bookcases are described as _Thecae sive quas vocant classes_. Gradually the
term was extended until it reached its modern signification, namely, the
shelves under a given window together with those on the sides of the
bookcases to the right and left of the spectator facing it[437].
We sometimes meet with the word _distinctio_. For instance, an Apocalypse
in the library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, which once belonged
to St Augustine's College, Canterbury, is noted as having stood
"_distinctione prima gradu tertio_"; and the same word is used in the
introduction to the catalogue of Dover Priory to signify what I am
compelled to decide was a bookcase. The word _demonstratio_, on the other
hand, which occurs at the head of the catalogue of the library of Christ
Church, Canterbury, made between 1285 and 1331, probably denotes a
division of subject, and not a piece of furniture.
Until the lectern-system had gone out of fashion, a word to denote a shelf
was not needed. When shelves had to be referred to, _textus_[438] was used
at Canterbury, and _linea_[439] at Citeaux. On the other hand, at Saint
Ouen at Rouen, this word indicates a row of bookcases, probably lecterns.
In a record of loans[440] from that library in 1372 and following years,
the books borrowed are set down as follows (to quote a few typical
instances):
Item, digestum novum, linea I, E, II.
Item, liber de regulis fidei, cum aliis, linea III, L, VIII.
Item, Tulius de officiis, linea II a parte sinistra, D, II.
These extracts will be sufficient to shew that the cases were arranged in
three double rows, each double row being called a _linea_. Each lectern
was marked with a letter of the alphabet, and each book with the number of
the row, the letter of the lectern to which it belonged, and its number on
the lectern. Thus, to take the first of the above entries, the Digest was
to be found in the first row, on lectern E, and was the second volume on
the said lectern. It is evident that there was a row of lecterns on each
side of a central alley or passage, and that a book was to be found on the
right hand, unless the left hand was specially designated.
A catalogue has been preserved of the books in the castle of Peniscola on
the east coast of Spain, when the anti-pope Benedict XIII. retired there
in 1415. They were kept in presses (_armaria_), each of which was
subdivided into a certain number of compartments (_domuncule_), each of
which again contained two shelves (_ordines_)[441]. I suggest that this
piece of furniture resembled, on a large scale, Le Chartrier de Bayeux,
which I have already figured (fig. 26).
In conclusion, I will quote a passage in which the word library designates
a bookcase. It occurs in an inventory of the goods in the church of S.
Christopher le Stocks, London, made in 1488:
On the south side of the vestrarie standeth a grete
library with ij longe lecturnalles theron to ley on the
bokes[442].
I need hardly remind my readers that the French word _bibliotheque_ has
the same double meaning.
FOOTNOTES:
[356] Catalogus Codicum Manuscriptorum Malastestianae Caesenatis bibliothecae
fratrum minorum fidei custodiaeque concreditae.... Auctore Josepho Maria
Mucciolo ejusdem ordinis fratre et Ravennatis coenobii alumno. 2 vols.
fol. Caesenae, 1780-84.
[357] These measurements were taken by myself, with a tape, in September,
1895.
[358] The desk bearing a single volume shewn on this seat (fig. 93) is
modern.
[359] These measurements were taken by myself with a tape, in April 1898,
and verified in April 1899.
[360] This catalogue is in the State Archives at Modena.
[361] I visited Monte Oliveto 19 April, 1899.
[362] See _Ueber Mittelalterliche Bibliotheken_, v. T. Gottlieb. 8vo.
1890, p. 181. I have twice visited Assisi and examined the Catalogue here
referred to. My best thanks are due to Professor Alessandri for giving me
every assistance in my researches.
[363] Inprimis facimus inventarium de libris in libraria publica ad bancos
cathenatis in hunc modum. Et nota, quod omnia folia omnium librorum, qui
sunt in isto inuentario sive per sexternos vel quinternos aut quaternos
seu quemvis per alium numerum majorem vel minorem omnes quotquot sunt,
nomina quaternorum tenent, ut apparet in quolibet libro in primo quaterno
in margine inferiori; quare omnes sunt ante et retro de nigro et rubeo per
talem figuram intus cum suo numero signati. Item lictere alphabeti, qui
desuper postes ponuntur, omnes debent esse aliquantulum grosse et
totaliter nigre, sicut inferius in fine cuiuslibet libri signatur. The
spots round this figure are alternately black and red.
[364] Ducange s. v. _solarium_ shews that occasionally it =_armarium_.
[365] I have to thank Father C. J. Ehrle, _S. J._, Prefect of the Vatican
Library, for the very great kindness with which he has assisted me in
these researches during three visits to Rome in 1898, 1899, 1900; and also
the officials who allowed me to examine parts of the palace not usually
accessible to strangers.
Further, I wish it to be clearly and distinctly understood that my
researches are based upon an essay by M. Paul Fabre, _La Vaticane de Sixte
IV._, which had appeared in the _Milanges d'Archeologie et d'Histoire of
the Ecole Francaise de Rome_ for December 1895, but of the existence of
which I had never heard until Father Ehrle shewed it to me. On reading it,
I found that M. Fabre had completely anticipated me; he had done exactly
what I had come to Rome to do, and in such a masterly fashion that I could
not hope to improve upon his work. After some consideration I determined
to verify his conclusions by carefully examining the locality, and to make
a fresh ground-plan of it for my own use. I have also studied the
authorities quoted by M. Eugene Muentz (_Les Arts a la Cour des Papes_)
from my own point of view.
There are two works to which I shall frequently refer: _Les Arts a la Cour
des Papes pendant le xv^e et le xvi^e siecle_, par Eugene Muentz: Part III.
1882 (Bibl. des Ecoles Francaises d'Athenes et de Rome, Fasc. 28): and _La
Bibliotheque du Vatican_ _au xv^e Siecle_, par Eugene Muentz et Paul Fabre;
Paris, 1887 (Ibid. Fasc. 48). The former will be cited as "Muentz"; the
latter as "Muentz et Fabre." My paper, of which an abstract only is here
given, has been published in the _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ 6 March
1899, Vol. X. pp. 11-61.
[366] This document, dated 17 December, 1471, has been printed by Muentz,
p. 120. I am afraid that this order can have but one meaning: viz. the
excavation and destruction of ancient buildings.
[367] This is the date assigned by Platina himself. See below, p. 231.
[368] MS. Vat. Lat. 3947, fol. 118 b. Notatio omnium librorum Bibliothecae
palatinae Sixti quarti Pont. Max. tam qui in banchis quam qui in Armariis
et capsis sunt a Platyna Bibliothecario et Demetrio Lucense eius alumno
custode die xiiii. mensis Septemb. M.CCCC.LXXXI facta. Ante vero eius
decessum dierum octo tantummodo. This _Notatio_ has been printed, Muentz et
Fabre, p. 250, but without the catalogue to which it forms an appendix.
This, so far as I know, still remains unprinted.
[369] Muentz et Fabre, pp. 148-150, _passim_.
[370] _Ibid._ p. 32.
[371] _Ibid._ p. 141. The catalogue is printed pp. 159-250.
[372] MS. Vat. 5008.
[373] These accounts, now preserved in the State Archives at Rome, have
been printed with great accuracy (so far as I was able to judge from a
somewhat hasty collation) by Muentz, _Les Arts a la Cour da Papes_, Vol.
III. 1882, p. 121 sq.; and by Muentz and Fabre, _La Bibliotheque du Vatican
au xv^e Siecle_, 1887, p. 148 sq.
[374] The entries referring to these purchases are given in full, with
translations, in my paper above referred to.
[375] The name is derived from the frescoes with which its external walls
were decorated during the reign of Pius IV. (1559-1565). They represented
palm trees, on which parrots (_papagalli_) and other birds were perching.
Fragments of these frescoes are still to be seen. The court beyond this
"del Portoncin di Ferro" was so called from an iron gate by which the
passage into it from the Cortile del Papagallo could be closed.
[376] The difference of level between the floor of the court and the floor
of the library is eighteen inches. An inclined plane of wood now replaces
the steps.
[377] Item pro purganda bibliotheca veteri et asportandis calcinaciis
duarum fenestrarum factarum inter graecam et latinam b. XX die qua supra,
i.e. 20 Aug. 1480. Muentz, p. 132.
[378] A Foundling Hospital, alluding to the Ospedale di Santo Spirito
founded by Sixtus IV.
[379] Fabre, _La Vaticane_, p. 464. Bunsen, _Die Beschreibung der Stadt
Rom_, ed. 1832, Vol. II.. Part 2, p. 418.
[380] The following entry is curious: Habuere Paulus et Dionysius pictores
duos ducatos pro duobus paribus caligarum quas petiere a domino nostro dum
pingerent cancellos bibliothecae et restituerent picturam bibliothecae
graecae, ita n. Sanctitas sua mandavit, die xviii martii 1478. Muentz, p.
131.
[381] Fabre, _La Vaticane_, p. 465, citing Bandini, _Bibliothecae
Mediceo-Laurentianae catalogus_, I. p. xxxviii.
[382] Enumeravi, praesente Clemente synescalcho familiae s. d. n., Salvato
librario, et Demetrio lectore, ducatos XLV Francischo fabro lignario
mediolanensi habitatori piscinae urbis Romae pro banchis Bibliothecae
conficiendis, maxime vero decem quae ad sinistram jacent, quorum longitudo
est XXXVIII palmorum, vel circa, et ita accepta parte pecuniarum, cujus
summa est centum et XXX ducatorum, facturum se debitum promittit et
obligat, die XV Julii 1475. Muentz, p. 121.
[383] Item solvi eidem ducatos XXX pro reliquo XXV banchorum bibliothecae:
pro longioribus autem qui sunt X solvebantur centum et triginta, ut supra
scriptum est; pro reliquis solvebantur centum et septuaginta; quae summa
est tricentorum ducatorum: atque ita pro banchis omnibus ei satisfactum
est, die VII Junii 1476. Muentz, p. 126. The rest of the money had been
paid to him by instalments between 15 July, 1475, and this date.
[384] Magister Joanninus faber lignarius de Florentia habuit a me Platyna
s. d. n. bibliothecario pro fabrica banchorum Bibliothecae secretae, pro
Armario magno et Spaleria ejusdem loci, quae omnia extimata fuerunt centum
et octuaginta ducat' a magistro Francisco de Mediolano; habuit, ut
praefertur, ducatos sexaginta quinque et bononenos sexaginta die VII maii
1477. Muentz, p. 130. There were 100 bononeni in each ducat.
[385] Habuit ultimo ducatos octo pro tribus tabulis ex nuce cornisate (?)
ad continenda nomina librorum e per le cornise de tre banchi vechi ex nuce
die supradicta; nil omnino restat habere ut ipse sua manu affirmat,
computatis in his illis LX bononenis qui superius scribuntur. Muentz, p.
130.
[386] Dedi Joanni pictori famulo m. Melotii pro pictura trium tabularum
ubi descripta sunt librorum nomina carlenos XVIII die X Octobris 1477.
_Ibid._, p. 131.
[387] Item pro XII capsis latis in bibliothecam secretam. Muentz et Fabre,
p. 158.
[388] Magister Joanninus de Florentia et m. Marcus ejus frater faber
lignarius habuere ducatos XXV pro parte solucionis banchorum quae fiunt in
bibliotheca addita nunc a S^mo. d. nostro, die XVIII Julii 1480. Muentz, p.
134.
[389] Muentz, pp. 124-126.
[390] Magister Joannes fabricator catenarum habuit a me die XIIII aprilis
1477 ducatos decem, ad summam centum et quinque ducatorum quos ei debebam
pro tribus miliaribus et libris octingentis ferri fabrefacti ad usum
bibliothecae, videlicet pro quadraginta octo virgis ferreis ad quas in
banchis libri connectuntur [etc.]. Muentz, p. 128.
[391] _Ibid._, p. 127.
[392] _Ibid._, p. 135.
[393] MSS. Vat. 3947.
[394] MSS. Vat. 7135.
[395] _La Vaticane_, etc., p. 475.
[396] MS. Vat. 3946.
[397] MS. Vat. 3948.
[398] For an account of what Sixtus accomplished at Santo Spirito see
Pastor, _History of the Popes_, Eng. Tran. IV. 460-462.
[399] Brockhaus, _Janitschek's Repertorium fuer Kunstwissenschaften_, Band
VII. (1884); Schmarsow, _Melozzo da Forli_ (1886), pp. 202-207.
[400] I have taken 1 palm = metre 0.223; and 1 metre = 39.37 in.
[401] My calculation works out as follows. Each of 10 seats was 38 palms
long: total length, 380 palms. As these 10 seats cost 130 ducats, each
palm cost 130/380 ducats = 1/3 a ducat nearly.
As the total paid was 300 ducats, this first payment, viz. 130 ducats,
left 170 ducats still due for the 15 remaining seats. As each palm cost a
third of a ducat, 170 ducats would buy 510 palms = 113.73 metres = 4477
inches (nearly) = 373 feet.
[402] Per lo tellaro del mappamondo b. 52. Muentz, p. 129. Habuere pictores
armorum quae sunt facta in duabus sphaeris solidis et pro pictura mappemundi
ducatos III, die XII decembris 1477. Muentz et Fabre, p. 151. This map had
probably been provided by Pius II. (1458-1464), who kept in his service
Girolamo Bellavista, a Venetian maker of maps. Muentz et Fabre, 126.
[403] Expendi pro cobopertura facta duobus sphaeris solidis quarum in
altera est ratio signorum, in altera cosmographia, ducatos IIII videlicet
cartenos XVI in octo pellibus montoninis, cartenos XXV in manifactura;
sunt nunc ornata graphio cum armis s. d. n., die XX decembris 1477. Muentz
el Fabre, p. 152. M. Fabre quotes an extract in praise of the map and
globes from a letter written from Rome in 1505, _La Vaticane de Sixte
IV._, p. 471 _note_.
[404] _Ibid._
[405] Muentz, p. 130.
[406] Bibl. Nat. Paris, MSS. Lat. 13123, fol. 220, quoted by Muentz et
Fabre, p. 140.
[407] This statue, found in Rome in the middle of the sixteenth century,
represents Aristides Smyrnaeus, a Greek rhetorician of the second century
after Christ. It is still in the Vatican Library, at the entrance to the
Museo Cristiano.
[408] In the omitted passage Montaigne describes a number of books shewn
to him.
[409] _Journal du voyage de Michel de Montaigne en Italie_, ed. Prof.
Alessandro d' Ancona. 8vo. Citta di Castello, 1895, p. 269. I owe this
quotation to M. Fabre.
[410] Muentz et Fabre, p. 299.
[411] _Ibid._, pp. 269-298. MSS. Vat. Lat. 3964.
[412] Quisquis es qui tuum nomen hic inscribis ob acceptos commodo libros
e bibliotheca pontificis, scito te indignationem ejus et execrationem
incursurum nisi peropportune integros reddideris. Hoc tibi denuntiat
Platyna, S. suae bibliothecarius, qui tantae rei curam suscepit pridie Kal.
Martii 1475.
[413] Dedi die XIII Septembris 1475 ducatum unum Salvato scriptori pro
emendis calligis. Item expendi pro veste una Salvati scriptoris seminudi
et algentis ducatos XIII de mandato sancti domini nostri. Muentz et Fabre,
p. 148.
[414] Habui ego Platyna sanctissimi domini nostri bibliothecarius ducatos
triginta pro salario meo, quod est decem ducatorum in mense, ab idibus
Julii usque ad idus Octobris 1477, quemadmodum apparet in bulla de
facultatibus officiis et muneribus a sanctissimo domino nostro papa Sixto
IIII facta. _Ibid._ p. 150.
[415] Muentz, pp. 129, 133.
[416] Item dedi ducatos quinque pro quolibet Demetrio et Johanni ligatori
librorum quos ex mandato domini nostri foras misi, mortuo ex peste eorum
socio, ne ipsi quoque eo loci interirent vel alios inficerent, die VIII
junii 1478. Muentz et Fabre, pp. 153.
[417] The entries alluded to in this account will all be found in Muentz
and Fabre, pp. 148-158.
[418] The document is printed by Muentz and Fabre, p. 300.
[419] I visited Urbino for the purpose of studying this library 28 April,
1900.
[420] _Memorie concernenti la Citta di Urbino._ Fol. Rome, 1724, p. 37.
See also Vespasiano, _Federigo Duca d' Urbino_; ap. Mai, _Spicilegium
Romanian_, I. pp. 124-128; Dennistoun, _Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino_,
8vo. 1851, I. pp. 153-160. The duties of the librarian, which remind us in
many particulars of those of the monastic _armarius_, are translated by
Dennistoun (p. 159) from Vat. Urb. MSS. No. 1248, f. 58.
[421] _Codices Urbinates Graeci Bibl. Vat._ 4to. Rome, 1895, p. 12. For
this statement, the writer cites Raffaelli, _Imparziale istoria dell'
unione delta Biblioteca ducale di Urbino alia Vaticana di Roma_. Fermo,
1877, p. 12.
[422] _Vasari_, ed. 1856, vol. XII. p. 214.
[423] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, II. 22.
[424] This statement rests on the authority of Dr Caius, _Hist. Cant.
Acad._ p. 89. Cum duae bibliothecae erant, altera priuata seu noua, altera
publica seu vetus dicebatur. In illa optimi quique; in hac omnis generis
ex peiori numero ponebantur. Illa paucis, ista omnibus patebat.
[425] _Arch. Hist._ III. p. 401.
[426] See above p. 45. Dr James has printed the verses from Bodl. MSS.
Laud. 697, fol. 27, _verso_, in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ VIII.
213.
[427] The whole series is given in _Arch. Hist._ III. p. 461.
[428] I quote this account of the glass at Eton from Dr James, _ut supra_,
p. 214.
[429] De Lisle, _Cabinet de Manuscrits_, vol. II. p. 200.
[430] _Voyage Litteraire_, ed. 1717, II. 158.
[431] Bliss, _Reliquiae Hearnianae_, II. 693; _ap._ Macray, _Annals_, p. 4.
[432] See above, p. 188.
[433] See Index.
[434] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. II. p. 270.
[435] See above, p. 192.
[436] See Index.
[437] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. p. 30. Conyers Middleton, _Bibl. Cant. Ord.
Meth._ Works, Vol. III. p. 484.
[438] See above, p. 192.
[439] See above, p. 105.
[440] _Du pret des livres dans l' abbaye de Saint Ouen, sous Charles V._
par L. Delisle. _Bibl. de l' Ecole des Chartes_, ser. III. Vol. I. p. 225.
1849.
[441] _Le Librairie des Papes d' Avignon_, par Maurice Faucon, Tome II. p.
43, in _Bibl. des Ecoles Francaises d'Athenes et de Rome_, Fasc. 50.
[442] _Archaeologia_, Vol. 47, p. 120. I have to thank my friend Mr P. T.
Micklethwaite, architect, for this quotation.
CHAPTER VII.
CONTRAST BETWEEN THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES. SUPPRESSION OF THE
MONASTERIES. COMMISSIONERS OF EDWARD VI. SUBSEQUENT CHANGES IN LIBRARY
FITTINGS. S. JOHN'S COLLEGE, AND UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, CAMBRIDGE. QUEEN'S
COLLEGE, OXFORD. LIBRARIES ATTACHED TO CHURCHES AND SCHOOLS. CHAINING IN
RECENT TIMES. CHAINS TAKEN OFF.
I have now traced the evolution of the bookcase from a clumsy contrivance
consisting of two boards set at an angle to each other, to the stately
pieces of furniture which, with but little alteration, are still in use;
and I hope that I have succeeded in shewing that the fifteenth century was
emphatically the library-era throughout Europe. Monasteries, cathedrals,
universities, and secular institutions in general vied with each other in
erecting libraries, in stocking them with books, and in framing liberal
regulations for making them useful to the public.
To this development of study in all directions the sixteenth century
offers a sad and startling contrast. In France the Huguenot movement took
the form of a bitter hostility to the clergy--which, after the fashion of
that day, exhibited itself in a very general destruction of churches,
monasteries, and their contents; while England witnessed the suppression
of the Monastic Orders, and the annihilation, so far as was practicable,
of all that belonged to them. I have shewn that monastic libraries were
the public libraries of the Middle Ages; more than this, the larger
houses were centres of culture and education, maintaining schools for
children, and sending older students to the Universities. In three years,
between 1536 and 1539. the whole system was swept away, as thoroughly as
though it had never existed. The buildings were pulled down, and the
materials sold; the plate was melted; and the books were either burnt, or
put to the vilest uses to which waste literature can be subjected. I will
state the case in another way which will bring out more clearly the result
of this catastrophe. Upwards of eight hundred monasteries were suppressed,
and, as a consequence, eight hundred libraries were done away with,
varying in size and importance from Christ Church, Canterbury, with its
2000 volumes, to small houses with little more than the necessary
service-books. By the year 1540 the only libraries left in England were
those at the two Universities, and in the Cathedrals of the old
foundation. Further, the royal commissioners made no attempt to save any
of the books with which the monasteries were filled. In France in 1789 the
revolutionary leaders sent the libraries of the convents they pillaged to
the nearest town: for instance, that of Citeaux to Dijon; of Clairvaux to
Troyes; of Corbie to Amiens. But in England at the suppression no such
precautions were taken; manuscripts seem to have been at a discount just
then, for which the invention of printing may be to some extent
responsible; their mercantile value was small; private collectors were
few. So the monastic libraries perished, save a few hundred manuscripts
which have survived to give us an imperfect notion of what the rest were
like.
How great the loss was, has probably been recorded by more than one
writer; but for the moment I can think of nothing more graphic than the
words of that bitter protestant John Bale, a contemporary who had seen the
old libraries, and knew their value. After lamenting that "in turnynge
ouer of y^e superstycyouse monasteryes so lytle respect was had to theyr
lybraryes for the sauegarde of those noble and precyouse monumentes" (the
works of ancient writers), he states what ought to have been done, and
what really happened.
Neuer had we bene offended for the losse of our
lybraryes beynge so many in nombre and in so desolate
places for the most parte, yf the chiefe monumentes and
moste notable workes of our excellent wryters had bene
reserued.
If there had bene in every shyre but one solempne
lybrary, to the preseruacyon of those noble workes, it
had bene yet sumwhat. But to destroy all without
consydyracyon is and wyll be vnto Englande for euer a
moste horryble infamy amonge the graue senyours of other
nacyons. A greate nombre of them whych purchased those
superstycyouse mansyons, reserued of those bokes some to
... scoure theyr candelstyckes, and some to rubbe theyr
bootes. Some they sold to the grossers and sopesellers,
and some they sent ouer see to the boke bynders, not in
small nombre, but at times whole shyppes full, to the
wonderynge of the foren nacyons. I know a merchaunt man
which shall at this tyme be namelesse, that boughte the
contentes of two noble lybraryes for. xl. shyllynges
pryce, a shame it is to be spoken. This stuffe hath he
occupyed in the stede of graye paper by the space of
more than these .x. yeares, and yet he hath store ynough
for many yeares to come[443].
The Universities, though untouched by the suppression, were not allowed to
remain long at peace. In 1549, commissioners were sent by Edward the Sixth
to Oxford and Cambridge. They considered that it fell within their
province to reform the libraries as well as those who used them; and they
did their work with a thoroughness that under other circumstances would
have been worthy of commendation. Anthony Wood[444] has told us in
eloquent periods, where sorrow struggles with indignation, how the college
libraries were treated; how manuscripts which had nothing superstitious
about them except a few rubricated initials, were carried through the city
on biers to the market-place and there consumed. Of the treatment meted
out to the public library of the University he gives an almost identical
account[445]. This library--now the central portion of the Bodleian--had
been completed about 1480. It was well stocked with manuscripts of value,
the most important of which, in number about 600[446], had been given by
Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, between 1439 and 1446. His collection was
that of a cultivated layman, and was comparatively poor in theological
literature. Yet in this home of all that was noble in literature and
splendid in art (for the Duke's copies are said to have been the finest
that could be bought) did this crew of ignorant fanatics cry havoc, with
such fatal success that only three MSS. now survive; and on January 25,
1555-56, certain members of the Senate were appointed "to sell, in the
name of the University, the book-desks in the public library. The books
had all disappeared; what need then to retain the shelves and stalls, when
no one thought of replacing their contents, and when the University could
turn an honest penny by their sale[447]?"
I suppose that in those collegiate and cathedral libraries of which some
fragments had been suffered to remain, the gaps caused by the destruction
of manuscripts were slowly filled up by printed literature. No new
bookcases would be required for many years; and in fact, nearly a century
passed away before any novelty in the way of library-fittings makes its
appearance. Further, when new libraries came to be built, the provision of
suitable furniture was not easy. The old stall, with two shelves loaded
with books attached to them by chains, and a desk and seat for the use of
the reader, was manifestly no longer adequate, when books could be
produced by the rapidity of a printing-press, instead of by the slowness
of a writer's hand. And yet, as we shall see, ancient fashions lingered.
So far as I know, the first library built and furnished under these new
conditions in England was that of S. John's College, Cambridge. This
"curious example of Jacobean Gothic[448]" was built between 1623 and 1628,
at the sole charge of Bishop Williams, whose work at Westminster during
the same period has been already recorded. The site selected was the
ground between the second court of the college and the river, the
library-building being constructed as a continuation of the north side of
that court, with the library on the first floor, and the chambers intended
for the Bishop's Fellows and Scholars on the ground floor.
The room, after the fashion of the older libraries, is long and narrow,
110 ft. in length by 30 ft. in breadth. Each side-wall is pierced with ten
lofty pointed windows of two lights with tracery in the head. The sills of
these windows are raised 4 ft. above the floor, and the interval between
each pair of windows is 3 ft. 8 in. There is also a western oriel, the
foundations of which are laid in the river which washes its walls (fig.
109). The name of the founder is commemorated on the central gable by the
letters I. L. C. S., the initials of _Johannes Lincolniensis Custos
Sigilli_, the Bishop being at that time keeper of the Great Seal, or, as
we should say, Lord Chancellor. The date 1624 marks the completion of the
shell of the building[449].
[Illustration: Fig. 109. West oriel of the Library at S. John's College,
Cambridge.]
[Illustration: Fig. 110. Bookcases in the Library of S. John's College,
Cambridge.]
The beautiful fittings (fig. 110), which are still in use, were completed
before 1628. Medieval arrangement was not wholly discarded, but various
modern features were introduced. The side-walls and window-jambs are
panelled to a height of 8 ft.; and the cornice of this panel-work is
continuous with that of the taller cases--which, as in the older examples,
stand at right angles to the walls between each pair of windows. Before
these fittings were constructed, chaining had been practically abandoned,
so that it was not necessary to provide either desk or seat. In the place,
therefore, of the reader's seat, a low bookcase was set in front of each
window. These cases were originally 5 ft. 6 in. high, with a sloping desk
on the top on which books could be laid for study. Stools also were
provided for the convenience of readers. The larger cases or, as the
building-account of the library calls them, "the greater seats," have been
a good deal altered in order to accommodate more books. Originally the
plinth ran round the sides of the case; as did also the broad member which
is seen on the end above the arches. By this arrangement there were in all
only four shelves, namely, one below the broad member and three above it.
Further, there was a pilaster in the middle, below the central bracket. It
should be noted that the medieval habit of placing a list of the books
contained in each case at the end of the case is here maintained.
It might have been expected that these splendid cases would have invited
imitation, and in those at Clare College the general style was undoubtedly
copied. But, as I have already explained[450], those cases were originally
genuine specimens of the stall-system, with desks. In other libraries,
while a new style of bookcase was put up, we shall find no innovation
comparable to that seen at S. John's. This was due, in great measure, to
the medieval character of the rooms to be fitted up.
The library at Peterhouse was lengthened in 1633. It is 75 ft. long by 25
ft. broad, and each of its side-walls is pierced by a range of three-light
windows. The cases (fig. 111) were put up between 1641 and 1648. Like
those at S. John's, they stand at right angles to the walls between the
windows, but they are detached, and not continuous with the panelwork.
Originally they were just eight feet high, but have since been heightened
to accommodate more books. Each case is still divided by a central
pilaster. So far they do not present any striking peculiarity, but I wish
to draw attention to a curious contrivance, which we shall find
subsequently reproduced in various forms, though not exactly as it is seen
here; for these cases were evidently admired, and imitated in several
other colleges. The chains had been taken off the books at Peterhouse in
1593-94, when they were first moved into the new library; so that desks
attached to the cases were not required. Nor were lower cases, with desks
at the top of them, provided. But the convenience of the reader was
considered, up to a certain point, by the provision of a seat, 12 in.
wide and 23 in. high, extending along the side of each case, and returned
along the wall between it and the case next to it. This arrangement may
still be seen in the two compartments at the west end of the room, one on
each side of the door of entrance. The ends of the seat or 'podium,' are
concealed by boldly carved wings[451].
[Illustration: Fig. 111. Bookcases in the Library of Peterhouse,
Cambridge.]
The convenience of this type of case was evidently recognised at once, for
we find it copied, more or less exactly, in the south room of the
University Library (1649); at Jesus College (1663); at Gonville and Caius
College (1675); at Emmanuel College (1677); and at Pembroke College
(1690).
[Illustration: Fig. 112. Bookcases in the south room of the University
Library, Cambridge.]
The south room of the University Library, on the first floor, is 25 ft.
wide and was originally 67 ft. long. It was lighted by eight windows in
the north wall, and by nine windows in the south wall, each of two lights.
There was also a window of four lights in the east gable, as we learn from
Loggan's print, and probably a window in the west gable also[452]. It was
entered by a door, in the north-east corner, approached by a "vice," or
turret-stair. This door was fortunately left intact when the east building
was erected in 1755. The room has been but little altered, and still
preserves the beautiful roof, the contract for which is dated 25 June,
1466[453].
We do not know anything about the primitive fittings, but, having regard
to the fact that the spaces between the windows are barely two feet wide,
it is probable that they were lecterns. Moreover, a catalogue, dated 1473,
enumerates eight stalls on the north side each containing on an average 21
books, and nine on the south side, each containing 18 books[454]. These
numbers, compared with those mentioned above at Zutphen, indicate
lecterns.
In the next century this room was assigned to teaching purposes, and the
lecterns were either removed or destroyed. In 1645 the University
petitioned Parliament to put them in possession of Archbishop Bancroft's
library, which he, by will dated 28 October, 1610, had bequeathed to the
Public Library of the University of Cambridge, should certain other
provisions not be fulfilled. The request was granted, 15 February, 1647,
and the books arrived in 1649. The room in question, then used as the
Greek School, was ordered, 3 September, 1649, to be "fitted for the
disposeall of the said books" without delay. The existing cases were
supplied at once, for Fuller, writing in the following year, speaks of
them with commendation[455]. Their exact date is therefore known.
These cases (fig. 112) are 8 ft. high from the floor to the top of the
horizontal part of the cornice, and 22 in. broad. They have the central
pilaster; but the seat has been cut down to a step, which is interrupted
in the middle, so as to allow the central pilaster to rise directly from
the ground. The wing, however, was too picturesque a feature to be
discarded, so it was placed at the end of the step, and carried up, by
means of a long slender prolongation, as far as the molding which
separates the two panels on the end of the stall.
These cases were exactly copied at Gonville and Caius College; and again
at Emmanuel College; but in both those examples the step is continuous. At
Jesus College the same type is maintained, with the central pilaster and
continuous step; but the work is extremely plain, and there is neither
wing nor pediment. At Pembroke College there is a further modification of
the type. The step disappears, and, instead of it, a plinth extends along
the whole length of the case. The wing, however, remains, as a survival of
the lost step, and helps to give dignity to the base of the standard,
which is surmounted by a semicircular pediment, beneath which is a band of
fruit and flowers in high relief[456].
I will now describe a very interesting bookcase at King's College,
Cambridge (fig. 113), which was put up in 1659, with a bequest from
Nicholas Hobart, formerly Fellow[457]. It remains in its original position
in one of the chapels on the south side of the choir, which were used for
library-purposes till the present library was built by Wilkins in 1825. It
has several details in common with those at S. John's College, as
originally constructed, and will help us to understand their aspect before
they were altered. There is a lofty plinth, a broad member interposed
between the first and second shelf, a central vertical pilaster; and, as
at Peterhouse, and elsewhere, a step or 'podium' with a wing. But, with
these resemblances to cases in which books are arranged as at present, it
is curious to find the usual indications of chaining, which we know from
other sources was not given up in this library until 1777. There are locks
on the end of the case just below each of the two shelves, and scars on
the vertical pilasters caused by the attachment of the iron-work that
carried the bar. Further, just below the broad band, a piece of wood of a
different quality has been inserted into the pilasters, evidently to fill
up a vacancy caused by the removal of some part of the original structure,
probably a desk or shelf.
The antiquary William Cole, writing in 1744, describes these chapels when
used as libraries. Each chapel held five bookcases, "two at the
extremities, which are but half-cases, and three in the body, of which the
middlemost is much loftier than the rest." In the chapel fitted up by
Hobart, Cole tells us that "at the end of the biggest middle class is
wrote in gold letters LEGAVIT NICOLAUS HOBART 1659[458]." As the chapel is
only 20 ft. long, the intervals between the cases could hardly have
exceeded 2 ft., and as the books were chained they must have been
consulted standing.
[Illustration: Fig. 113. Bookcase in the old Library of King's College,
Cambridge, made with the bequest of Nicholas Hobart, 1659.]
A similar return to ancient forms is to be found in the library of Queen's
College, Oxford, begun in 1692. The architect is said to have been
Nicholas Hawkesmoore, to whom the fittings, put up in the first fourteen
years of the eighteenth century[459], are also ascribed. This library is
123 ft. long by 30 ft. wide. There are ten bookcases on each side at right
angles to the walls between the windows. Each case is about 11 ft. high,
and 2 ft. 6 in. wide; but, though their ornamentation is in the style of
the period, of which they are splendid examples, their general design
exactly reproduces the old type. In their original state they were
provided with desks, though there is no evidence that the books were
chained; they had only two shelves above that which was on the level of
the top of the desk; and there was a double seat between each pair of
cases. The space above the second shelf, between it and the cornice, was
occupied by a cupboard, handsomely ornamented with carved panels, for
small books or manuscripts[460]. In fact, the only innovation which the
designer of these remarkable cases permitted himself to employ was to make
the moldings of their cornices continuous with that of the panelwork which
he carried along the sides of the room, and into the jambs of the windows.
The space below the desk was utilised for books, but, as these were found
to be inconvenient of access, the desks and seats were taken away in 1871,
and dwarf bookcases provided in front of the windows.
When the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury built their library, now called
the Howley-Harrison Library, in 1669-70, they constructed a room on
strictly medieval lines. It is 65 ft. long by 21 ft. broad, with seven
equidistant windows in the north wall and six in the south wall. The
bookcases, which are plain medieval stalls, project from the walls at
right angles between the windows.
There is another class of libraries which must be briefly mentioned in
this chapter, namely, those connected with parish churches and
grammar-schools. I suppose that after the destruction of monastic
libraries all over the country, the dearth of books would be acutely felt,
and that gradually those who had the cause of education at heart
established libraries in central situations, to which persons in quest of
knowledge might resort.
[Illustration: Fig. 114. Ground plan of Library, Grantham, Lincolnshire.
Scale one quarter of an inch to one foot.]
The library (fig. 114) at Grantham in Lincolnshire occupies a small room,
16 feet from north to south by 14 feet from east to west, over the south
porch of the parish church, approached by a newel stair from the south
aisle. It was founded in 1598 by the Reverend Francis Trigg, rector of
Wellbourn; and in 1642, Edward Skipworth "out of his love and well-wishing
to learning, and to encourage the vicars of Grantham to pursue their
studies in the winter-time, gave fifty shillings, the yearly interest
thereof to provide firewood for the library fire." From this language I
conclude that the original gift of books was made for the benefit of the
vicar for the time being.
There are three bookcases set against the walls, each about 6 ft. high and
6 ft. long. A considerable number of the books still bear their chains,
which are composed of long flat links closely resembling those at
Guildford, with a ring and swivel next to the bar. The library--room,
bookcases, and books--was carefully restored and repaired in 1894[461].
At Langley Marye or Marish in Buckinghamshire near Slough, a library was
founded in 1623 by Sir John Kederminster "as well for the perpetual
benefit of the vicar and curate of the parish of Langley, as for all other
ministers and preachers of God's Word that would resort thither to make
use of the books therein." He placed it under the charge of the four
tenants of his almshouses, who were to keep safe the books, and the key of
the room, under stringent penalties[462].
The library is a small room on the south side of the church, entered
through the squire's pew, to which there is a separate door in the south
wall. The fittings are of an unusual character, and have been preserved
unaltered. The whole room is panelled at a distance of 15 in. from the
wall, so as to make a series of cupboards, in which the books are
contained. The doors of these cupboards are divided into panels,
alternately square and oblong. Each of the former contains a small figure
painted in colours on a black ground; each of the latter a shield, or some
heraldic device. The inner surface of these doors is similarly divided
into panels, on each of which is painted an open book. Above the
cupboards, just under the flat ceiling, is a series of more or less
imaginary landscapes, doing duty as a frieze. Over the fireplace is a very
beautiful piece of decoration consisting of a large oval shield with
various coats of arms painted on it. It is set in an oblong panel, in the
spandrels of which are painted seated figures of Prudence, Justice,
Temperance, Fortitude, with their emblems and suitable mottoes[463].
In 1629, the following entry occurs in what is called "the Church Book" of
Cartmel, in Lancashire:
14 July, 1629. It is ordered and agreed upon that the
churchwardens seate in the body of the churche shall be
enlarged both in the wideness and in the deske that the
bookes given unto the church may bee more convenientlie
laid and chained to remain there according to the
directions of the donors[464].
The will of Humphry Chetham, a wealthy merchant of Manchester, dated 16
December, 1651, directs L200 to be spent on certain specified books,
to be, by the discretion of my Executors, chained upon
Desks, or to be fixed to the Pillars, or in other
convenient Places, in the Parish Churches of
_Manchester_ and _Boulton in the Moors_, and in the
Chapels of _Turton_, _Walmesley_, and _Gorton_, in the
said County of _Lancaster_[465].
The bookcase at Gorton[466] is a cupboard of oak, 7 ft. long by 3 ft. high
and 19 in. deep, raised upon four stout legs, 22 in. high. On opening the
doors, the interior is seen to be divided into two equal parts by a
vertical partition, and again by a horizontal shelf. The shelf and the
partition are both 9 in. deep, so as to leave a considerable interval in
front of them. The bars--of which there is one for each division--rest in
a socket pierced in a small bracket screwed to each end of the case, in
such a position that the bar passes just in front of the shelf. A flat
piece of iron, nailed to the central division, carries a short hasp, which
passes over the junction of the bars, and is there secured by a lock. By
this arrangement no person could withdraw either bar without the key. The
chains, of iron, tinned, are of the same type as those at Hereford, but
the links are rather longer and narrower. They are attached to the volume
in the same manner, either near the bottom of the right board, or near the
top of the left board. There are scars on the lower edge of the case, and
on the legs, which seem to indicate that there might once have been a
desk. Otherwise, the books, when read, must have rested on the reader's
knees. The whole piece of furniture closely resembles one dated 1694 at
Bolton in Lancashire to be described below (fig. 116).
The bookcase at Turton[467] resembles that at Gorton so closely that it
needs no particular description. The doors are richly carved, and on the
cornice above them is the following inscription, carved in low relief:
THE GIFT OF HUMPHRY CHETHAM ESQVIRE. 1655.
Besides these parochial libraries Mr Chetham directed the foundation
(among other things) of "a Library within the Town of _Manchester_, for
the Use of Scholars, and others well affected, to resort unto ... the same
Books there to remain as a public Library for ever; and my Mind and Will
is, that Care be taken, that none of the said Books be taken out of the
said Library at any Time ... the same Books [to] be fixed or chained, as
well as may be, within the said Library, for the better Preservation
thereof." In order to carry out these provisions the executors bought an
ancient building called the _College_, which is known to have been
completed before 1426 by Thomas Lord de la Warre, as a college in
connexion with the adjoining collegiate church, now the Cathedral[468].
The library was placed in two long narrow rooms on the first floor, the
original destination of which is uncertain. They are at right angles to
each other, and have a united length of 137 ft. 6 in., with a breadth of
17 ft. The south and west walls are pierced with fourteen three-light
windows, probably inserted by Chetham's executors; the east and west walls
are blank.
The existing fittings, though they have been extensively altered[469] from
time to time, are in the main those which were originally put up. The
bookcases, of oak, are placed in medieval fashion at right angles to the
windows. They are 10 ft. long, 2 ft. wide, and were originally 7 ft. high,
but have been pieced apparently twice, so that they now reach as high as
the wall-plate. Each pair of cases is 6 ft. apart, so as to make a small
compartment, closed by wooden gates, which now open in the middle; but a
lock attached to one side of the end of each case indicates that
originally the gates were in one piece. The cases are quite plain, with
the exception of a few panels at the end. On the uppermost of these, which
is oblong, and extends from side to side of the case, the subjects of the
works are written: as PHILOSOPHIA; and beneath, in smaller characters,
_Mathematica_, _Physica_, _Metaphysica_. All indications of chaining have
been obliterated, but a reference to the earliest account-book which has
been preserved, that beginning 20 April, 1685, shews that the founder's
directions were obeyed:
20 Apr. 1685. To James Wilson for Cheining ten books
0 2 6
" 1686. -------------- for making 26 large
Claspes and Cheining 26 bookes 0 4 4
9 Mar. 1686-87. -------------- for Cheining and
Clasping 12 doz. bookes 00 18 00
Chains were evidently kept as a part of the stock-in-trade of the library,
to be used as required, for, at the end of an Inventory taken 18 November,
1684, we find:
Alsoe in the Library two globes; three Mapps; two queres
of larg paper to make tables; a paper fol-booke; A
Ruleing penn; 24 dossen Chains; A geniological roul; and
a larg serpent or snaks skin.
[Illustration: Fig. 115. Ring and link of chain: Wimborne Minster.]
At Wimborne Minster the books are placed in a small room, about fifteen
feet square, over the vestry, a building in the Decorated style, situated
between the south transept and the south aisle of the choir. Access to
this room is obtained by a turret-stair at the south-west corner. It was
fitted up as a library in 1686, when the greater part of the books were
given by the Rev. William Stone. There are two plain wooden shelves,
carried round three sides of the room. The chains are attached to the
right-hand board of each book, instead of to the left-hand board, and they
are made of iron wire, twisted as shewn in the sketch (fig. 115). The
swivel, instead of being central, plays in a twist of the wire which
forms the ring attached to the book. The iron bars are supported on eyes,
and are secured by a tongue of iron passed over a staple fixed into the
bracket which supports the shelf. The tongue was originally kept in its
place by a padlock, now replaced by a wooden peg. No desk was attached to
the shelves, but in lieu of it a portable desk and stool were
provided[470].
A library was built over the porch of the parish church at
Denchworth[471], Berks, in 1693, and "stocked with 100 books well secured
with chains," presumably for the use of the vicar and his successors; and
in 1715, William Brewster, M.D., bequeathed 285 volumes to the
churchwardens of All Saints' Church, Hereford, for the same purpose[472].
The books were placed in the vestry, where they still are. They are all
chained on a system copied from that in use at the Chapter Library.
In addition to collections of books, which varied in extent according to
the taste, or the means, of the donor, single volumes are often found
chained in churches. These do not come within the scope of this Essay, and
I will therefore pass on to notice some libraries connected with Grammar
Schools.
At Abingdon in Berkshire, the school, founded 1563, had a library, some
volumes of which, bearing their chains, are still preserved. There was a
similar collection at Bicester in Oxfordshire, where a school is said to
have been in existence before 1570. In 1571 James Pilkington, Bishop of
Durham (1561-1577), by will dated 4 February in that year, bequeathed his
books to the school at Rivington in Lancashire. The following extracts
from the statutes, said to have been made shortly after the arrival of the
books, remind us of monastic provisions[473].
The Governors shall the first day of every quarter when
they come to the School take an account of all such
books as have been given to the School, and if any be
picked away torn or written in they shall cause him that
so misused it to buy another book as good and lay it in
the place of it and there to be used continually as
others be.
The Schoolmaster and Usher whensoever the Scholars go
from the School shall cause all such books as have been
or shall be given to the School and occupied abroad that
day to be brought into the place appointed for them, and
there to be locked up; and every morning shall cause the
dictionaries, or such other books as are meet to be
occupied abroad by the Scholars, that have none of their
own, to be laid abroad, and see that none use to write
in them, pull out leaves, nor carry them from the
School; and if any misuse any book, or pick it away, the
Governours shall cause him to buy another as good, to be
laid in the stead of it, and occupied as the other was.
And for the books of divinity, the Schoolmaster and
Usher and such as give themselves to study divinity,
shall occupy them, that they may be the more able to
declare any article of the catechism or religion to the
scholars; and in the church to make some notes of the
Chapters that be read that the people may better
understand them and remember what is read. And yet these
books they shall not carry out of the School, without
license of the Governours, and on pain to bring it
again, or else to buy one as good, in its stead, and to
be allowed out of the Master's or Usher's wages.
If any preacher come and desire to have the use of some
of those books, they shall let him have the use of them
for a time so that they see them brought in again; none
other shall carry them from the School except they have
license of half the Governours and be bound to bring it
safe again.
In 1573 John Parkhurst, Bishop of Norwich (1560-1575), bequeathed "the
most part" of his Latin books to his native town Guildford, to be placed
in "the Lybrarie of the same Towne ioyning to the Schole." These books,
after some legal difficulties had been overcome, were brought to
Guildford, and placed in a gallery which connected the two wings of the
school, and had been begun in 1571. The books were fastened to the shelves
with chains, one of which has been already figured (fig. 58). There is
evidence that the library was well cared for, and augmented by various
donations, which were regularly chained as they came in, down to the end
of the 17th century[474].
Henry Bury, founder of the free school at Bury in Lancashire in 1625,
directed in his will that a convenient place should be found for the
library, because, as he proceeds to say:
I have already geven ... in trust for the use of Bury
Parish and the countrie therabouts, of ministers also at
ther metinge and of schole maisters and others that seek
for learninge and knowledge, above six hundreth bookes,
and some other such things as I thought might helpe for
their delight, and refresh students, as globes mappes
pictures and some other things not every wheare to bee
seene.
This language shews that this provident benefactor intended his library to
be public. It is pleasant to be able to record that some of the books
which he gave are still in existence[475].
Lastly I will figure (fig. 116) the press given in 1694 by "James Leaver
citison of London," to the Grammar School at Bolton in Lancashire. It
closely resembles those given by Humphry Chetham to Turton and Gorton. The
system of ironwork by which the bars are kept in place is exactly the
same; and it retains the desk, traces of which exist at Gorton.
In my enumeration of the libraries attached to schools and churches, I
have drawn special attention to the fact that in nearly all of them the
books were chained. In explanation of this it might be argued that these
libraries were in remote places, to which new ideas would not easily
penetrate, but I am about to shew that this method of protection, which
began in a remote past, was maintained with strange persistency down to
modern times. I shall collect some further instances of the chaining of
books in places where it might have been expected that such things would
be no longer thought of; and in conclusion I shall record some dates at
which the final removal of chains took place.
[Illustration: Fig. 116. Bookpress in the school at Bolton, Lancashire.
From _Bibliographical Miscellanies_ by William Blades.]
In the library of the Faculty of Medicine, Paris, the books were ordered
to be chained in 1509, in consequence of some thefts; and these chains
were still attached to certain books in 1770[476]. At Corpus Christi
College, Cambridge, in 1554, it was ordered that the books bequeathed by
Peter Nobys, D.D. (Master 1516-23), should be taken better care of for the
future, and, if the chains were broken, that they should be repaired at
the expense of the college[477]. In 1555, Robert Chaloner, Esq.,
bequeathed his law books to Gray's Inn, with forty shillings in money, to
be paid to his cousin, "to th' entent that he maie by cheines therwith and
fasten so manye of them in the Librarye at Grauisin [Gray's Inn] as he
shall think convenyente[478]."
At S. John's College, Cambridge, in 1563-4, three shillings were paid to
"Phillip Stacyoner for cornering, bossing, and chayninge _Anatomiam
Vessalii etc._[479]" In 1573, Dr Caius directs by will twelve copies of
his own works to be given to his college, "there to be kepte as the other
bokes are, and to be successivelye tyed with chaynes in the Librarye of
the same College[480]." Dr Perne, Master of Peterhouse, by will dated 25
February, 1588, directs that all his books therein bequeathed "be layed
and chayned in the old Librarie of the Colledge[481]." At Trinity College,
Cambridge, in 1601, Mr Peter Shaw gave L5 towards the "cheyning and
desking of his bookes given to the newe liberarie[482]." In 1638-9, when a
new library was completed for the Barber Surgeons of London, L6. 18_s._
were spent on binding and chaining, as for instance:
Paid for 36 yards of chaine at 4_d._ the yard and 36
yards at 3_d._ the yard cometh to xxij_s._ vj_d._
Paid to the coppersmith for castinge 80 brasses to
fasten the chaines to the bookes--xiij_s._ iiij_d._[483]
Sir Matthew Hale, who died in 1676, directed in his will that certain
manuscripts should be given to the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn:
"My desire," he said, "is that they be kept safe and also in remembrance
of me. They were fit to be bound in leather and chained and kept in
archives[484]." In the will of Matthew Scrivener, Rector of Haslingfield
in Cambridgeshire, dated 4 March, 1687, the following passage occurs: "I
give fifty pounds in trust for the use of the public Library [at
Cambridge], either by buying chains for the securing the books at present
therein contained, or for the increase of the number of them[485]." At
the church of S. Gatien at Tours it is recorded in 1718 that the library
which occupied one alley of the cloister was well stocked with
manuscripts, chained on desks, which stood both against the wall and in
the middle of the room[486]. Lastly, in 1815, John Fells, mariner, gave
L30 to found a theological library in the church of S. Peter, Liverpool.
"The books were originally fastened to open shelves in the vestry with
rods and chains[487]."
Towards the end of the eighteenth century the practice was finally
abandoned. At Eton College in 1719 it was "Order'd to take y^e Chains off
y^e Books in y^e Library, except y^e Founder's Manuscripts[488]"; at the
Bodleian Library, Oxford, the removal of them began in 1757[489]; at
King's College, Cambridge, the books were unchained in 1777[490]; at
Brasenose College, Oxford, in 1780[491]; and at Merton College in
1792[492].
In France the custom was evidently abandoned at a much earlier date, for
the authors of the _Voyage Litteraire_, who visited more than eight
hundred monasteries at the beginning of the eighteenth century, with the
special intention of examining their records and their libraries, rarely
allude to chaining, and when they do mention it, they use language which
implies that it was a curious old fashion, the maintenance of which
surprised them[493].
FOOTNOTES:
[443] _The laboryouse Journey and Serche of Johan Leylande for Englandes
Antiquitees...._ by Johan Bale. London, 1549.
[444] _History and Antiquities of University of Oxford_, Ed. Gutch, 410.
1796, Vol. II. p. 106. Wood (b. 1632, d. 1695) gives these facts as
"credibly reported from antient men and they while young from scholars of
great standing."
[445] _Ibid._ Vol. II. Pt. 2, p. 918.
[446] This number is given on the authority of Macray, _Annals of the
Bodleian Library_, Ed. II. p. 6.
[447] Macray, _ut supra_, p. 13.
[448] These words were used by Professor Willis, _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III.
p. 451.
[449] For the history of this building see Professor Willis, _ut supra_,
Vol. II. pp. 264-271.
[450] See above p. 186.
[451] _Arch. Hist._ ut supra, Vol. I. p. 33, and Vol. III. p. 454.
[452] When the new facade was built in the middle of the 18th century this
room was shortened by about 8 feet, so that now there are only 8 windows
on the south side and 7 1/2 on the north side.
[453] The contract is printed and explained in _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. pp.
92-6.
[454] _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc._ Vol. II. p. 258. The catalogue is printed,
with remarks, by H. Bradshaw, M.A., University Librarian. It should be
noted that on the south side of the room, the first case only is called
'stall,' the remaining eight are called 'desks.'
[455] _History of University of Cambridge_, ed. Prickett and Wright, p.
160. See also _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. p. 27.
[456] These descriptions are all borrowed from Professor Willis, _Arch.
Hist._ Vol. III. pp. 454-458, 460, 465.
[457] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. I. p. 538.
[458] _Arch. Hist._ I. p. 539.
[459] This date is given on the authority of the present Provost, John
Richard Magrath, D.D.
[460] A view of the Library in its original state is given in Ingram's
_Memorials_, Queen's College, p. 12. An article in _Notes and Queries_,
6th Ser. IV. 442, by the Rev. Robert Lowes Clarke, M.A., Fellow and
Librarian, contains the following passage: "The bookcases were fitted with
reading desks, as at the Bodleian, and there were fixed oak seats in each
recess. These were convenient in some ways, and helped to make the room
seem a place for study rather than a store for materials, but they made
the lower shelves hard of access, and were removed in 1871 to give room
for new cases."
[461] For these details I have to thank the late Canon H. Nelson. I
visited Grantham in 1895 with my friend Mr. T. D. Atkinson, architect, who
drew the above plan.
[462] _Report of Comm. for Inquiring concerning Charities_, Vol. II. pp.
95-100.
[463] This description of the library is partly from my own notes, taken 7
July, 1901, partly from Hornby's _Walks about Eton_, 1894.
[464] _Old Church and School Libraries of Lancashire_, by R. C. Christie,
Chetham Soc., 1885, p. 76.
[465] _The last will of Humphry Chetham_, 4to. Manchester, n. d. p. 42.
[466] This bookcase stood in the National School-room when I examined it
in 1885. In 1898 the books were thoroughly repaired.
[467] The front of this bookcase is figured on the title-page of
_Bibliographical notices of the Church Libraries at Turton and Gorton_.
Chetham Soc., 1855, p. 3.
[468] The architectural history of these buildings has been admirably
worked out, in _Old Halls in Lancashire and Cheshire_, by Henry Taylor,
Architect, 4to. Manchester, 1884, pp. 31-46.
[469] These alterations probably began when the following Order was made:
"Tuesday, 24 July, 1787. That a Committee be appointed to inspect the
Library along with the Librarian, consisting of the Treasurer [etc.]; And
that such Committee shall have power to repair and make such Alterations
in the Library as they may think proper." No Order for taking off the
chains has been discovered.
[470] _Sketches of English Literature_, by Clara Lucas Balfour, 12mo.
Lond. 1852. Introduction. In the description of the library there given
the padlocks are specially mentioned. Compare also, _A History of Wimborne
Minster_, 8vo. Lond. 1860; and Hutchins' _Dorsetshire_, ed. 1803, Vol. II.
p. 554.
[471] _Notes and Queries_, Series 6, Vol. IV. p. 304. The library was
destroyed in 1852 when the Church was restored by Mr George Street,
Architect.
[472] _The History of All Saints' Church, Hereford_, by Rev. G. H.
Culshaw, M.A., 8vo. Hereford, 1892.
[473] _Old Church and School Libraries of Lancashire_, by R. C. Christie,
Chetham Soc., 1885, p. 189.
[474] _Cam. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ Vol. VIII. pp. 11-18. In 1899 the
books which remained were put in order and set on new shelves by the care
and at the cost of H. A. Powell, Esq.
[475] _Old Church and School Libraries of Lancashire_, by R. C. Christie,
Chetham Soc. p. 139.
[476] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl._ Vol. II. p. 25.
[477] Masters, _History_, p. 62.
[478] _The Guild of the Corpus Christi, York_, ed. Surtees Society, 1872,
p. 206, _note_.
[479] S. John's College Audit-Book, 1563-4, _Exp. Necess._
[480] _Commiss. Docts._ (Cambridge), II. 309.
[481] _Arch. Hist._ III. 454.
[482] Sen. Burs. Accounts, 1600-1, _Recepta_.
[483] _Memorials of the Craft of Surgery in England_, ed. D'Arcy Power.
8vo. London 1886, p. 230.
[484] Herbert, _Inns of Court_, p. 303.
[485] _Documents relating to St Catharine's College_, ed. H. Philpott,
D.D., p. 125.
[486] _Voyage Liturgique de la France_, by Le Sieur de Moleon, 1718. I
have to thank Dr James for this reference.
[487] _Old Church Libraries_, _ut supra_, p. 102.
[488] Eton College Minute Book, 19 December, 1719.
[489] Macray, _ut supra_, p. 86. The inconvenience of chaining had long
been felt for in _The Foreigner's Companion through the Universities_, by
Mr Salmon, 1748, it is objected that "the books being chain'd down, there
is no bringing them together even in the Library," p. 27.
[490] King's College Mundum Book, 1777: _Smith's work_. "To a man's time 9
Dayes to take the Chains of the books L1. 7_s._ 0_d._"
[491] Churton's _Lives of Smyth and Sutton_, p. 311, _note_.
[492] Henderson's _History_, p. 237.
[493] _Voy. Litt._, ed. 1724, Vol. III. p. 24.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WALL-SYSTEM. THIS BEGAN ON THE CONTINENT. LIBRARY OF THE ESCORIAL.
AMBROSIAN LIBRARY AT MILAN. LIBRARY OF CARDINAL MAZARIN. BODLEIAN LIBRARY
AT OXFORD. WORKS AND INFLUENCE OF WREN. FRENCH CONVENTUAL LIBRARIES OF THE
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
While in England we were struggling with the difficulties of adapting
medieval forms of libraries and bookcases to the ever-increasing number of
volumes, a new system was initiated on the continent, which I propose to
call the wall-system.
It seems so natural to us to set our bookshelves against a wall instead of
at right angles to it, that it is difficult to realize that there was a
time when such an arrangement was an innovation. Such however was the
case. I believe that this principle was first introduced into a library at
the Escorial, which Philip the Second of Spain began in 1563, and
completed 13 September, 1584. I do not mean by this sentence that nobody
ever set bookshelves against a wall before the third quarter of the
sixteenth century. I have shewn above, when discussing the catalogue of
Dover Priory[494], that the books stood on pieces of furniture which were
probably so treated; and it is not uncommon in illuminated manuscripts to
see a writer's books standing on one or more shelves set against the wall
near his desk. Further, in the accounts of the library arranged in the
Vatican by Sixtus IV., shelves set against the wall of one of the four
rooms are specially mentioned[495]; and in the description of the library
of the Dukes of Urbino, it is expressly stated that "the shelves for the
books are set against the walls (_le scanzie de' libri sono accostate alle
mura_)[496]." What I wish to enforce is that before the Escorial was
built, no important library was fitted up in that manner from the
beginning by the architect.
[Illustration: Fig. 118. Bookcases in the Library of the Escorial on an
enlarged scale.]
[Illustration: Fig. 117. General view of the Library of the Escorial,
looking north.]
The library of the Escorial[497] occupies a commanding position over the
portico through which the building is entered. It is 212 ft. long, by 35
ft. broad and about 36 ft. high. The roof is a barrel-vault, gorgeously
painted in fresco, as are the wall-spaces above the bookcases, and the
semicircular lunettes at the ends of the room. In that at the north end is
Philosophy, in that at the south end is Theology, while between them are
personifications of Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, Music, etc. On the walls,
forming a gigantic frieze, are various historical scenes, and figures of
celebrated persons real and imaginary, as for instance, the first Nicene
Council, the School of Athens, Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, Cicero,
David, Orpheus, etc. The general appearance of this splendid room will be
understood from the view (fig. 117). It is lighted by five windows on the
east side and seven on the west side, to which is added on the east side a
range of five smaller windows just under the vault. The principal windows
are quite different from those of any other library I have been
considering, for they are nearly 13 ft. high, and extend down to the
floor.
The wall-spaces between each pair of windows have bookcases fitted to
them, of a very original and striking design. They are divided into
compartments by fluted Doric columns supporting an entablature with
projecting cornice, above which again is a sort of second entablature. The
bases of the columns rest upon an extremely lofty plinth, intersected, at
about three-quarters of its height from the ground, by a shelf, behind
which is a sloping desk. The material used for these cases is mahogany,
inlaid with ebony, cedar, and other woods. They were designed by Juan de
Herrera, the architect of the building, in 1584, and I am assured that
they have escaped alteration, or serious damage from the numerous fires
which have occurred in the palace.
In order to exhibit the distinctive peculiarities of these remarkable
cases as clearly as possible, I give (fig. 118) an enlargement of part of
the former view; and further, an elevation of one of them drawn accurately
to scale (fig. 119), for which I have to thank a Spanish architect, Don
Ricardo Velasquez.
These bookcases have a total height of rather more than 12 ft, measured
from the floor to the top of the cornice. The desks are 2 ft. 7 in. from
the floor, a height which corresponds with that of an ordinary table, and
suggests that they must have been intended for the use of seated readers,
though seats are not provided in the library at present. The section of
the shelf and desk placed beside the elevation shews that there is a
convenient slope to lay the books against. The uppermost of the four
shelves is at a height of 9 ft. from the ground, so that a ladder is
required to reach the books. The two photographs which I have reproduced
(figs. 117, 118) shew that they have the fore-edge turned outwards,
according to what is, I am informed, the usual custom in Spain.
[Illustration: Fig. 119. Elevation of a bookcase, and section of a desk in
the Library of the Escorial.]
[Illustration: Fig. 121. Interior of the Ambrosian Library at Milan.
From a photograph taken in 1899.]
I believe that the work done in the Escorial had a very definite effect on
library-fittings elsewhere; but, like other important inventions, the
scheme of setting shelves against a wall instead of at right angles to it
occurred to more than one person at about the same period; and therefore I
cannot construct a genealogical tree, as I once thought I could, with the
Escorial at the root, and a numerous progeny on the branches.
Between 1603 and 1609--only 25 years afterwards--Cardinal Federigo
Borromeo built, endowed, and furnished the Biblioteca Ambrosiana at Milan.
A plain Ionic portico, on the cornice of which are the words BIBLIOTHECA
AMBROSIANA, gives access to a single hall, on the ground floor, 74 ft.
long by 29 ft. broad (fig. 120). The walls are lined with bookcases about
13 ft. high, separated, not by columns, but by flat pilasters, and
protected by wire-work of an unusually large mesh, said to be original. At
each corner of the hall is a staircase, leading to a gallery, 2 ft. 6 in.
wide. The cases in this gallery are about 8 ft. 6 in. high. Above them
again is a frieze consisting of a series of portraits of saints in oblong
frames. The roof is a barrel-vault, ornamented with plaster-work. Light is
admitted through two enormous semi-circular windows at each end of the
room. No alteration, I was informed when I visited the library in 1898,
has been permitted. Even the floor of plain tiles, with four tables (one
at each corner), and a central brazier, is left as the Cardinal arranged
it.
[Illustration: Fig. 120. Ground-plan of the Ambrosian Library at Milan.
Reduced from that given by P. P. Boscha.]
A good idea of the appearance of this noble room will be obtained from the
general view (fig. 121)[498]. The way in which the books were arranged
was evidently thought remarkable at the time, for a contemporary writer
says of it "the room is not blocked with desks to which the books are tied
with iron chains after the fashion of the libraries which are common in
monasteries, but it is surrounded with lofty shelves on which the books
are sorted according to size[499]."
This library was part of a larger scheme which included a college of
doctors, a school of art, a museum, and a botanic garden; all of which
were amply endowed. The library was to be open not merely to members of
the college, but to the citizens of Milan and all strangers who came to
study there; but the severest penalties awaited those who stole a volume,
or even touched it with soiled hands; and only the Pope himself could
absolve them from such crimes[500].
Before many years were over these novelties in library arrangement and
library administration found a ready welcome in France, where Cardinal
Mazarin was engaged in the formation of a vast collection of books
intended to surpass that of his predecessor Richelieu[501]. Even then his
library was public; all who chose to come might work in it on Thursdays
from 8 to 11 in the morning, and from 2 to 5 in the afternoon. At a later
period of his life, when he had removed to a palace now included in the
Bibliotheque Nationale, he was able to build a library in accordance with
his magnificent ideas. An accident of construction placed this room over
the stables, a conjunction which afforded endless amusement to the
pamphleteers of the time. It was finished at the end of 1647; and in the
following year the Cardinal threw it open, the first public library given
to Paris. _Publice patere voluit, censu perpetuo dotavit, posteritati
commendavit_, said the inscription which he placed over the door of
entrance. I need not attempt to recover from the somewhat conflicting
accounts of admiring contemporaries the exact dimensions and arrangements
of this gallery, for the bookcases still exist almost unaltered in the
Bibliotheque Mazarine. One detail deserves notice because it may have been
borrowed from the Ambrosian Library. There is said to have been a
staircase in each of the four corners of the room by which access to a
gallery was obtained[502].
[Illustration: Fig. 122. Bookcases in the Bibliotheque Mazarine, Paris.
From a photograph by Dujardin, 1898.]
Mazarin died in 1661, and, in accordance with his will, a college, to be
called _Le College des Quatre Nations_, was founded and endowed, and the
library was removed into it. The college was suppressed at the Revolution,
and the buildings are now occupied by the _Institut de France_, but the
library remains practically intact. It occupies two rooms at right angles
to each other with a united length of about 158 ft., and a width of 27 ft.
They are admirably lighted by 17 large windows.
The bookcases (fig. 122), from the original library in the Palais Mazarin,
were placed round the new room. At first they terminated with the cornice,
surmounted by the balustrade which protected the gallery mentioned above,
and the roof was arched. In 1739, when additional shelf-room was required,
and the roof was in need of repair, it was agreed to construct the present
flat ceiling, and to gain thereby wall-space of sufficient height to
accommodate 20,000 additional books. The gallery thus formed is approached
by two staircases constructed at the same time[503].
If the elevation of these cases (fig. 123) be compared with that of the
cases in the Escorial (fig. 119), I feel sure that my readers will agree
with me in admitting that the French example was copied from the Spanish.
The general arrangement is the same, and especially the really distinctive
features, namely, the division by columns, and the presence of a desk. It
will be observed that the French example is the larger of the two, being
18 ft. high from the floor to the top of the cornice. The desk, moreover,
is 4 ft. from the floor, so that it was evidently intended to be used
standing.
I am aware that Naude, the librarian employed by Mazarin to collect books
for him, did not visit Spain, nor was Mazarin himself ever in that
country. There is therefore no evidence to connect his library with that
of Philip II., but in justification of my theory I submit that the
resemblance is too close to be accidental, and that in all probability the
library at the Escorial had been much talked of in the world of letters.
[Illustration: Fig. 123. Elevation of a bookcase and section of a desk in
the Bibliotheque Mazarine, Paris.]
The convenience of placing book-shelves against a wall was soon accepted
in England, but at first in a somewhat half-hearted fashion. The earliest
instance of this, so far as I know, is to be met with in the Bodleian
Library, Oxford, where the first stone of the eastern wing was laid in
1610, and completed, with the fittings, in 1612[504].
[Illustration: Fig. 124. A portion of the bookcases set up in the eastern
wing of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, built 1610-1612.
From Loggan's _Oxonia Illustrata_, 1675.]
Advantage was taken of the whole of the wall-space provided by this
extension, and it was lined with a bookcase extending from floor to
ceiling. In order to provide easy access to the upper shelves, a light
gallery was provided, the pillars of which were utilised to support a seat
for the readers, because, the books being still chained, desks and seats
were indispensable. These cases still exist almost unaltered, but their
appearance as first constructed has been preserved to us in Loggan's
print, taken about 1675, part of which is here reproduced (fig. 124).
In 1634 (13 May) the first stone was laid of the enlargement of the
library towards the west, corresponding exactly to the wing at the
opposite end erected twenty-four years before[505]. The fittings were on
the same plan, but of a more elaborate and highly finished design, the
plain supports of the former work being replaced by Ionic columns
supporting arches with frieze and cornice, and a heavy balustrade for the
gallery above.
I now come to the influence exercised upon the architecture and fittings
of libraries by Sir Christopher Wren, and I shall be able to shew that
though he did not actually introduce the wall-system into England, he
developed it, adapted it to our requirements, and by the force of his
genius shewed what structural changes were necessary in order to meet the
increased number of books to be accommodated. Wren never visited Italy,
but in 1665 he spent about six months in Paris, where he made the
acquaintance of the best painters, sculptors, and architects, among whom
was the Italian Bernini. From him he might easily obtain information of
what was passing in Italy, though he describes him as "the old reserved
Italian" who would hardly allow him a glimpse of a design for which, says
Wren, "I would have given my skin." French work he studied
enthusiastically, and after giving a list of places he had visited says,
"that I might not lose the impressions of them I shall bring you almost
all France in paper." Among other things he specially records his
admiration for what he terms "the masculine furniture of the Palais
Mazarin," though he does not specially mention the library; but, as
Mazarin had died four years before, his palace would have been practically
dismantled, and the only furniture likely to attract Wren's attention
would have been his bookcases[506].
[Illustration: Fig. 125. Entrance to Wren's Library at Lincoln Cathedral,
with part of the bookcase which lines the north wall.]
The first piece of library work executed by Wren in England was at Lincoln
Cathedral, 1674, where after the Restoration a new library was required.
Dr Michael Honywood, who had been appointed Dean in 1660, offered to build
one at his own cost, and to present to it the books which he had collected
in Holland. The site selected was that formerly occupied by the north
alley of the cloister, which, through faulty construction, had fallen
down, and lain in ruins for a long period.
The building consists of an arcade of nine semicircular arches supported
on eight Doric columns. The upper storey, containing the library, has
eleven windows in a similar classical style, and above there is a bold
entablature ornamented with acanthus leaves. The library is 104 ft. long
by 17 ft. 6 in. wide and 14 ft. high; the ceiling is flat and perfectly
plain. In addition to the windows above mentioned there is another at the
west end. The entrance is at the east end through a richly ornamented door
(fig. 125). The shield in the centre of the pediment bears the arms of
Dean Honywood.
Wren placed a continuous bookcase along the north wall of this room,
extending from floor to ceiling. At the base there is a plinth (fig. 125),
which may have originally contained cupboards, but is now fitted with
shelves; and at the top, close to the ceiling, there is a heavy
entablature decorated with acanthus leaves and classical moldings above a
plain cornice, which bears at intervals oblong tablets inscribed with the
subjects of the books beneath. The shelves are disposed in compartments,
alternately wide and narrow, the former being set slightly in advance of
the latter, so as to break the monotony of a bookcase of uniform width
extending the whole length of a long room.
While this work was proceeding Wren planned the New Library for Trinity
College, Cambridge[507], begun 23 February, 1675-6. His design is
accompanied by an explanation, contained in a rough draught of a letter to
some gentleman of Trinity College, probably the Master. It is not signed,
but internal evidence shews that it must have been written or dictated by
Wren.
This library was placed on a cloister, open both to the east and to the
west, at the end of Nevile's Court. The level of the library floor was
made to correspond with that of the first floor of the chambers on the
north and south sides of the court. This is shewn in Wren's design, part
of which is here reproduced (fig. 126), and explained in the following
passage of his memoir.
[Illustration: Fig. 126. Part of Wren's elevation of the east side of the
Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, with a section of the north range
of Nevile's Court, shewing the door to the Library from the first floor.]
[The design] shewes the face of the building next the
court with the pavillions for the stairecases and the
Sections of the old buildings where they joyne to the
new....
I haue given the appearance of arches as the Order
required fair and lofty: but I haue layd the floor of
the Library upon the impostes, which answar (_sic_) to
the pillars in the cloister and the levells of the old
floores, and haue filled the Arches with relieues of
stone, of which I haue seen the effect abroad in good
building, and I assure you where porches are lowe with
flat ceelings is infinitely more gracefull then lowe
arches would be and is much more open and pleasant, nor
need the mason freare (_sic_) the performance because
the Arch discharges the weight, and I shall direct him
in a firme manner of executing the designe.
[Illustration: Fig. 127. Elevation of one bay on the east side of the
Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, drawn to scale from the existing
building.]
By this contrivance the windowes of the Library rise
high and giue place for the deskes against the walls,
and being high may be afforded to be large, and being
wide may haue stone mullions and the glasse pointed,
which after all inventions is the only durable way in
our Climate for a publique building, where care must be
had that snowe driue not in....
The general design seems to have been borrowed from that of the Library of
S. Mark at Venice, begun by Sansovino in 1536. The Italian architect, like
Sir Christopher Wren, raised his library on a cloister, which is in the
Doric style, while the superstructure is Ionic. The Venetian example is
more ornate, and there are statues upon every pier of the balustrade. The
arcades are left open, because there was not the same necessity for
accommodating the level of the floor to that of older buildings, and also
because the wall opposite to the windows had to be left blank on account
of the proximity of other structures. No consideration for fittings such
as influenced Wren could have influenced the Italian architect.
The style of Wren's work will be understood from the elevation of a bay on
the east side (fig. 127), drawn to scale from the existing building. If
this be compared with the original design (fig. 126), it will be seen that
the style there indicated has been closely followed.
We will now consider the fittings. A long stretch of blank wall having
been provided both along the sides and at the ends of the room, Wren
proceeded to design a masterly combination of the old and new methods of
arranging bookcases. As he says in another passage of the same memoir,
when describing this part of his design:
The disposition of the shelues both along the walls and
breaking out from the walls ... must needes proue very
convenient and gracefull, and the best way for the
students will be to haue a litle square table in each
Celle with 2 chaires. The necessity of bringing windowes
and dores to answer to the old building leaues two
squarer places at the endes and 4 lesser Celles not to
study in, but to be shut up with some neat Lattice dores
for archives.
The bookcases, designed by himself, were executed under his direction by
Cornelius Austin, a Cambridge workman. My illustration (fig. 128) shews
one of the "4 lesser Celles" with one of its doors open, and next to it a
"Celle" for students with table, revolving desk, and two stools. These
pieces of furniture were also designed by Wren.
[Illustration: Fig. 128. Interior of the north-east corner of the Library
of Trinity College, Cambridge, shewing the bookcases, table, desk and
chairs, as designed by Sir C. Wren.]
The cases are 11 ft. 10 in. high, and the wooden floor upon which they
stand is raised higher than that of the library. The great depth of the
plinth, which Wren utilised for cupboards, recalls the plan of some of the
older cases, and there is the little cupboard to contain the catalogue at
the end of each standard; but, with these exceptions, there is nothing
medieval about them except their position. On the top of each case is a
square pedestal of wood on which Wren intended to place a statue, but this
part of his scheme was not carried out. The celebrated Grinling Gibbons
supplied the busts which take the place of Wren's statues, and also the
coats of arms and wreaths of flowers and fruit with which the ends of the
cases are decorated.
It is difficult to decide the source from which an architect so great as
Wren derived any feature of his buildings, but it seems to me reasonable
to ascribe to foreign influence his use of the side-walls at Trinity
College library; and his scheme for combining a lofty internal wall with
beauty of external design, and a complete system of lighting, must always
command admiration. In the next example of his library work foreign
influence may be more directly traced, for I feel that the library of S.
Paul's Cathedral suggests reminiscences of the Ambrosian library at Milan.
Wren placed the library of his new cathedral in the western transept, with
an ingenuity of contrivance and a dignity of conception peculiarly his
own. On the level of what in a Gothic church would have been the
triforium, he constructed, both on the north and south side, a large and
lofty room. It was his intention that each of these rooms should be used
as a library, and that they should be connected by means of the gallery
which crosses the west end of the nave. Access to them was to be obtained
from the exterior, without entering the church, by a circular staircase in
the south-west corner of the facade. This plan has not been fully carried
out, and the southern library only has been fitted up. It is now usually
reached by means of the staircase leading to the dome.
These arrangements will be understood from the ground-plan (fig.
129)[508]. This plan shews very clearly the library itself, the two
circular staircases at the west end, leading up to the gallery, the wide
geometrical staircase leading down to the portico, the corridor into which
this staircase opens, and from which a visitor could either ascend by a
flight of stairs to the gallery crossing the nave, or, turning to his
right, either enter the library, or pass eastwards towards the dome.
[Illustration: Fig. 129, Ground plan of Library and adjacent parts of S.
Paul's Cathedral, London.]
[Illustration: Fig. 130. Sir Christopher Wren's Library at S. Paul's
Cathedral, London, looking north-east.]
The library (fig. 130) is a well-lighted room, with an area measuring 53
ft. by 32 ft, and of sufficient height to admit of the introduction of a
gallery under the vault. A massive stone pier projects into the room at
each corner, so as to break the formal regularity of the design in a very
pleasing manner. The gallery, together with the bookcases, which stand
against the walls, both in the gallery and below it, were either
designed by Wren himself, or placed there with his approval. The Building
Accounts[509] contain many valuable pieces of information respecting the
history of the room and its fittings. The floor "in the south library" was
laid down in July, 1708, as was also that in the gallery; the windows "in
the north and south library," words which shew very clearly that the
corresponding room on the north side was also intended for a library, were
painted in December, 1708; and the ornamental woodwork was supplied in
March, 1708-9. From the entries referring to these works I will quote the
following, as it particularises the most striking feature in the room,
namely, the large ornamental brackets which appear to support the gallery:
To Jonathan Maine Carver in the South Library, viz. For
carving 32 Trusses or Cantalivers under the Gallary, 3
ft. 8 in. long, and 3 ft. 8 in. deep and 7 in. thick
with Leather worke cut through and a Leaf in the front
and a drop hanging down with fruit and flowers etc. at
6^l. 10^s. each.
208^l.----
The words "leather work," used in the above entry, are singularly
suitable, for the whole composition looks more like something molded out
of leather or plaster than cut out of a solid piece of wood. The vertical
portion, applied to the pilasters, consists of a bunch of flowers, hops,
and corn, somewhat in the manner of Grinling Gibbons, who has been often
named as the artist. The above-mentioned pilasters divide the wall-space
into 33 compartments, each of which is from 3 ft. 6 in. to 4 ft. wide, and
9 ft. high, exclusive of the plinth and cornice, and fitted with six
shelves, which are apparently at the original levels.
The gallery is approached by a staircase contrived in the thickness of the
south-west pier. It is 5 ft. wide, and fitted with bookcases ranged
against the wall in the same manner as those below, but they are loftier,
and of plainer design. The balustrade, a molded cornice of wood, supported
on pilasters of the same material, which recall those separating the
compartments below, and the great stone piers, enriched with a broad band
of fruit, flowers, and other ornaments set in a sunk panel, are striking
features of this gallery.
The material used throughout for the fittings is oak, which fortunately
has never been painted, and has assumed a mellow tone through age which
produces a singularly beautiful effect.
If we now return to Cambridge, we shall find that the influence of Wren
can easily be traced in all the library fittings put up in the course of
the 18th century. The first work of this kind undertaken was the provision
of additional fittings to the library of Emmanuel College[510] between
1702 and 1707. The tall cases, set up at right angles to the walls in
1679, were moved forward, and shelves in continuation of them were placed
against the side-walls. The same influence is more distinctly seen in the
library of S. Catharine's Hall[511], which was fitted up, according to
tradition, at the expense of Thomas Sherlock, D.D., probably while Master,
an office which he held from 1714 to 1719. The room is 63 ft. 6 in. long
by 22 ft. 10 in. wide; and it is divided by partitions into a central
portion, about 39 ft. long, and a narrow room at each end, 12 ft. long.
Each of these latter is lighted by windows in the north and south walls;
the former has windows in the south wall only. The central portion is
divided into three compartments by bookcases which line the walls, and
project from them at right angles; in the two smaller rooms the cases only
line the walls, the space being too narrow for any other treatment.
When the building of the new Senate House had set free the room called the
Regent House, in which the University had been in the habit of meeting
from very early times, it was fitted up, between 1731 and 1734, as part of
the University Library[512]. Wren's example was followed as far as the
nature of the room would permit. Wherever a blank wall could be found, it
was lined with shelves, and the cases placed at right angles to the
side-walls were continued over the narrow spaces left between their ends
and the windows. One of these cases, from the south side of the room, is
here shewn (fig. 131). The shelves under the windows were added
subsequently. A similar arrangement was adopted for the east room in
1787-90.
At Clare College, at about the same date, the new library over the kitchen
was fitted up with shelves placed against the walls. These fittings are
excellent specimens, ornamented with fluted Ionic pilasters, an elaborate
cornice, and pediments above the doors. It is worth noting, as evidence of
the slowness with which new fashions are accepted, that the antiquary
William Cole, writing in 1742, calls this library "a very large
well-proportion'd Room a la moderne, w^th ye Books rang'd all round it &
not in Classes as in most of y^e rest of y^e Libraries in other
Colleges[513]."
[Illustration: Fig. 131. Bookcase in the north room of the University
Library, Cambridge, designed by James Essex, 1731-1734.]
The fashion of which I have been tracing the progress in England had been
accepted during the same period in France, where some beautiful specimens
of it may still be seen. I presume that the example was set by the wealthy
convents, most of which had been rebuilt, at least in part, in the then
fashionable classical style, during the seventeenth century[514]. At
Rheims a library fitted up by the Benedictines of Saint Remi in 1784 now
does duty as the chapel of the Hotel-Dieu. Fluted Corinthian columns
supporting an elaborate cornice divide the walls into compartments, in
which the books are ranged on open shelves. The room is 120 ft. long, by
31 ft. broad, with four windows on each side. With this may be compared
the public library at Alencon, the fittings of which are said to have been
brought from the abbey of the Val Dieu near Mortain at the Revolution. The
room is 70 ft. long by 25 ft. wide. Against the walls are 26 compartments
or presses, alternately open and closed. Each of these terminates in an
ogee arch enriched with scrolls and a central shield. The whole series is
surmounted by a cornice divided by console brackets, between which are
shields, probably intended originally to carry the names of the subjects
of the books.
[Illustration: Fig. 132. Interior of the Library of the Jesuits at Rheims,
now the _Lingerie de l'Hopital General_.]
Lastly, I must mention the libraries of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette at
Versailles. The walls are lined with a double row of presses, each closed
by glass doors. The lower row is about four feet high, the upper row about
ten feet high. The wood-work is painted white, and enriched with wreaths
of leaves in ormolu. As a general rule the books are hidden from view by
curtains of pleated silk.
I mentioned in a previous chapter[515] that additional space was provided
for the library in a French monastery by raising the roof of an existing
building, putting in dormer windows, and converting the triangular space
so gained into a library by placing in it bookcases of a convenient
height, and connecting them together by a ceiling. I have fortunately
discovered one such library still in existence at Rheims. It belonged
originally to the Jesuits, who had constructed it about 1678, and when the
Order was expelled from France in 1764, and their House became the
workhouse (_hopital general_) of the town, it was fortunately made use of
as the _lingerie_, or linen-room, without any material change. Even the
table has been preserved. The view here presented of the interior (fig.
132) may serve to give a general idea, not merely of this library, but of
others of the same class. The decoration of the ceiling is coarse but
effective. On the coved portion of it, within the shields, are written the
subjects of the books on the shelves beneath. I made a list of these and
have printed them on the margin of my ground-plan (fig. 133). This plan
also shews the arrangement of the bookcases. They are placed at a distance
of five feet from the walls, and are returned to meet each window, thus
forming convenient bays for private study. The space between the bookcases
and the wall was used as a store-room[516].
[Illustration: Fig. 133. Ground-plan of the Library of the Jesuits at
Rheims.
The Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve, at Paris, offered originally a splendid
example of a library arranged in this manner. It consisted of two
galleries, at right angles to each other, fitted up in the same style as
the library at Rheims. The longest of these galleries was 147 ft. long by
24 ft. wide. The guidebooks prepared for the use of visitors to Paris in
the middle of the 18th century dwell with enthusiasm on the convenience
and beauty of this room. The books were protected by wire-work; between
each pair of cases was a bust of a Roman emperor or an ancient
philosopher; at the crossing of the two galleries was a dome which seemed
to be supported on a palm-tree in plaster-work at each corner, out of the
foliage of which peered the heads of cherubs; while the convenience of
readers was consulted by the liberality with which the library was thrown
open on three days in every week, and furnished with tables, chairs, a
ladder to reach the upper shelves, and a pair of globes[517]. This library
was begun in 1675, and placed, like that at Rheims, directly under the
roof. The second gallery, which is shorter than the first, was added in
1726. It was not disturbed at the Revolution, nor under the Empire, though
the rest of the abbey-buildings became the Lycee Napoleon. After the
Restoration, when this school became the College Henri IV., the presence
of the library was found to be inconvenient, and in 1850 it was removed to
a new building close to the Pantheon. The galleries are now used as a
dormitory for the school-boys, but the dome, with some of its decorations,
still survives.
Another example of this arrangement, which seems to have been peculiarly
French, is afforded by the library of Saint Germain-des-Pres, the gradual
extension of which I have already described[518]. The books were contained
in oak presses set against the walls. Above them was a series of portraits
representing the most important personages in the Order of S. Benedict.
This library was open to the public daily from 9 to 11 a.m. and from 3 to
5 p.m.[519]
I will conclude this chapter with a few words on the library of the most
famous of all European monasteries, namely Monte Cassino, the foundation
of which was undoubtedly laid by S. Benedict himself. I confess that I had
hoped to find there a library which might either by its position or its
fittings recall the early days of monasticism; but unfortunately the piety
of the Benedictine Order has induced them to rebuild their parent house in
a classical style, and to obliterate nearly every trace of the primitive
building. The library, to which I was obligingly conducted by the Prior,
is 60 ft. long by 30 ft. broad, with two large windows at the end opposite
to the door. The side-walls are lined with bookcases divided by columns
into four compartments on each side, after the fashion of Cardinal
Mazarin's library. These columns support a heavy cornice with handsome
ornaments. A band of woodwork divides the cases into an upper and lower
range, but there is no trace of a desk. I could not learn the date at
which these fittings had been constructed, but from their style I should
assign them to the middle of the seventeenth century[520].
FOOTNOTES:
[494] See above, p. 196.
[495] See above, p. 224.
[496] See above, p. 233.
[497] For the history of the Escorial, see Ford, _Handbook for Spain_, Ed.
1855, pp. 749-763, and _Descripcion ... del Escorial_, Fra de los Santos,
fol. Madrid, 1657, with the English translation by G. Thompson, 4to.
London, 1760.
[498] I have to thank the librarian, Monsignore Ceriani, for kindly
allowing this photograph to be taken for my use.
[499] _Gli Istituti Scientifici etc. di Milano._ 8vo. Milan, 1880, p. 123,
note.
[500] Boscha, _De Origine et statu Bibl. Ambros._ p. 19; _ap._ Graevius,
_Thes. Ant. et Hist. Italiae_, Vol. IX. part 6; see also the Bull of Paul
V, dated 7 July 1608, approving the foundation and rehearsing the
statutes, in _Magnum Bullarium Romanum_, 4to. Turin, 1867, Vol. xi. p.
511.
[501] For the history of the Bibliotheque Mazarine see Franklin, _Anc.
Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. III. pp. 37-160.
[502] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. III. pp. 55-6.
[503] The minute of the conservators of the library authorising this
change is printed by Franklin, _ut supra_, p. 117.
[504] Macray, _Annals_, ut supra, p. 37.
[505] Macray, _ut supra_, p. 80.
[506] Elmes. _Life of Sir C. Wren_, pp. 180-184. _Parentalia_, p. 261.
[507] The history of this library has been fully narrated in the _Arch.
Hist._, ut supra, Vol. II. pp. 531-551. Wren's Memoir quoted below has
been collated with the original in the library of All Souls' College,
Oxford, where his designs are also preserved.
[508] This plan has been reduced from one on a larger scale kindly sent to
me by my friend Mr F. C. Penrose, architect to the Cathedral.
[509] I have to thank the Dean and Chapter for leave to study these
Accounts, and to have a photograph taken of the library.
[510] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. II. p. 710. Vol. III. p. 468.
[511] _ib._ Vol. III. p. 468.
[512] _ib._ Vol. III. pp. 74, 470.
[513] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. I. p. 113.
[514] See the set of views of French Religious Houses called _Le
Monasticon Gallicanum_, 4to. Paris, 1882. The plates were drawn by Dom
Germain 1645-1694.
[515] See above, pp. 106, 114.
[516] Jadart, _Les Anciennes Bibliotheques de Reims_, 8vo. Reims, 1891, p.
14.
[517] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. I. pp. 71-99. He gives a view
of the interior of the library from a print dated 1773.
[518] See above, p. 114.
[519] Franklin, _ut supra_, I. pp. 107-134.
[520] I visited Monte Cassino 13 April, 1898.