[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. 7s. 0d."

[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.



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.



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.



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].



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.



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].



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].



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.



[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.



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.



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.



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]."



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.



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.



CHAPTER IX.

PRIVATE LIBRARIES. ABBAT SIMON AND HIS BOOK-CHEST. LIBRARY OF CHARLES V. OF FRANCE. ILLUSTRATIONS OF THIS LIBRARY FROM ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPTS. BOOK-LECTERN USED IN PRIVATE HOUSES. BOOK-DESKS REVOLVING ROUND A CENTRAL SCREW. DESKS ATTACHED TO CHAIRS. WALL-CUPBOARDS. A SCHOLAR'S ROOM IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY. STUDY OF THE DUKE OF URBINO. LIBRARY OF MONTAIGNE. LIBRARY OF MARGARET OF AUSTRIA. CONCLUSION.

In the previous chapters I have sketched the history of library-fittings from the earliest times to the end of the eighteenth century. The libraries to which these fittings belonged were, for the most part, public, or as good as public. But, as in history we have recognised the important fact that a record of battles and sieges and enactments in Parliament gives an imperfect conception of the life of a people, so I should feel that this archeological subject had been insufficiently treated if I made no attempt to shew how private scholars disposed their books, or with what appliances they used them. For instance, in what sort of chair was the author of the Philobiblon sitting when he wrote the last words of his treatise, 24 January, 1345, and how was his study in his palace at Auckland furnished? Further, how were private students bestowed in the fifteenth century, when a love of letters had become general? Lastly, how were libraries fitted up for private use in the succeeding century, when the great people of the earth, like the wealthy Romans of imperial times, added the pursuit of literature to their other fashions, and considered a library to be indispensable in their luxurious palaces?

In the hope of obtaining reliable information on these interesting questions, I have for some years past let no opportunity slip of examining illuminated manuscripts. I have gone through a large number in the British Museum, where research is aided by an excellent list of the subjects illustrated; in the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris; and in the Bibliotheque Royale, Brussels, where the manuscripts are for the most part those which once belonged to the Dukes of Burgundy. I have been somewhat disappointed in this search, for, with the single exception of the illustration from Boethius (fig. 63), I have not found any library, properly so called. This is no doubt strange, having regard to the great variety of scenes depicted. It must be remembered, however, that these are used for the most part to illustrate some action that is going forward, for which a library would be a singularly inappropriate background. Single figures, on the other hand, are frequently shewn with their books about them, either reading or writing. Such illustrations most frequently occur in Books of Hours, in representations of the Evangelists; or in portraits of S. Jerome, who is painted as a scholar at his desk surrounded by piles of books and papers; and I think we may safely take these as representations of ordinary scholars, because, by the beginning of the fifteenth century, when most of the pictures to which I refer were drawn, it had become the custom to surround even the most sacred personages with the attributes of common life.

In the twelfth century, when books were few, they were kept in chests, and the owners seem to have used the edge as a desk to lean their book on. My illustration (fig. 134) shews Simon, Abbat of S. Albans 1167-1183, seated in front of his book-chest[521]. The chest is set on a frame, so as to raise it to a convenient height; and the Abbat is seated on one of those folding wooden chairs which are not uncommon at the present day. Simon was a great collector of books: "their number," writes his chronicler, "it would take too long to name; but those who desire to see them can find them in the painted aumbry in the church, placed as he specially directed against the tomb of Roger the hermit[522]."

Chests, as we have seen above at the Vatican library, were used for the permanent storage of books in the fifteenth century; and a book-chest frequently formed part of the travelling luggage of a king. For example, when Charles V. of France died, 16 September, 1380, at the Chateau de Beaute-sur-Marne, thirty-one volumes were found in his chamber "in a chest resting on two supports, which chest is by the window, near the fireplace, and it has a double cover, and in one of the divisions of the said chest were the volumes that follow." His son, Charles VI., kept the thirteen volumes which he carried about with him in a carved chest, within which was an inlaid box (escrin marquete) to contain the more precious books[523].



The earliest information about the furniture of a medieval private library that I have as yet discovered is contained in a fragment of an account-book recording the cost of fitting up a tower in the Louvre in 1367 and 1368, to contain the books belonging to Charles V. of France. Certain pieces of woodwork in the older library in the palace on the Isle de la Cite are to be taken down and altered, and set up in the new room. Two carpenters are paid (14 March, 1367) for "having taken to pieces all the cases (bancs) and two wheels (roes), which were in the king's library in the palace, and transported them to the Louvre with the desks (lettrins), and the aforesaid wheels, each made smaller by a foot all round; and for having put all together again, and hung up the desks (lettrins) in the two upper stages of the tower that looks toward the Falconry, to put the king's books in; and for having panelled the first of those two stories all round on the inside with wood from 'Illande,' at a total cost of fifty francs of gold. Next, because the seats were too old, they were remade of new timber which the aforesaid carpenters brought. Also [they were paid] for two strong doors for the said two stories 7 ft. high, 3 ft. broad, and 3 fingers thick." In the following year (4 May, 1368), a wire-worker (cagetier) is paid "for having made trellises of wire in front of two casements and two windows ... to keep out birds and other beasts (oyscaux et autres bestes), by reason of, and protection for, the books that shall be placed there." The ceiling is said to have been panelled in cypress wood ornamented with carvings[524].

The "tower that looks toward the Falconry" mentioned in the above description has been identified with the north-west tower of the old Louvre. The rooms fitted up as a library were circular, and about 14 feet in diameter[525].

The above description of a library will be best explained by an illumination (fig. 135) contained in Boccacio's Livre des cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes, written and illuminated in Flanders for King Henry the Seventh, and now in the British Museum[526]. Two gentlemen are studying at a revolving desk, which can be raised or lowered by a central screw. This is evidently the "wheel" of the French King's library. Behind are their books, either resting on a desk hung against the wall, which is panelled, or lying on a shelf beneath the desk. This piece of furniture would be properly described either as a banc or a lettrin. It should be noted that care has been taken to keep the wheel steady by supporting it on a solid base, beneath which are two strong cross-pieces of timber, which also serve as a foot-rest for the readers. The books on the desk set against the wall are richly bound, with bosses of metal. Chaining was evidently not thought of, indeed I doubt if it was ever used in a private library. The window is glazed throughout. In other examples which I shall figure below we shall find a wire trellis used instead of glass for part at least of the window.

My next illustration (fig. 136), also Flemish, is of the same date, from a copy of the Miroir historial[527]. It represents a Carmelite monk, probably the author of the book, writing in his study. Behind him are three desks, one above the other, hung against the wall along two sides of the room, with books bound and ornamented as in the former picture, resting upon them, and beneath the lowest is a flat shelf or bench on which a book rests upon its side. The desk he is using is not uncommon in these illustrations. It is fixed on a solid base, which is further strengthened, as in the example of the wheel-desk, by massive planks, to guard against the slightest vibration; and it can be turned aside by means of a limb—apparently of iron—which is first vertical, then horizontal, then vertical again. The Carmelite holds in his left hand an instrument for keeping the page perfectly flat. This instrument has usually a sharp point with which any roughness on the page can be readily removed. The volume he is using is kept open by two strings, to each of which a weight is attached. Behind the desk, covered with a cloth, is a chest secured by two locks. On this stands an object which appears to be a large magnifying glass.

Sometimes the desk was carried round three sides of the room, with no curtain to keep off dust, and with no shelf beneath it. The illustration (fig. 137) is from a French translation of Valerius Maximus (1430-75) in the Harleian Collection[528].

I now pass to a series of pictures which illustrate the daily life of a scholar or a writer who had few books, but who could live in a certain ease—allowing himself a chair and a desk. Of these desks there is an infinite variety, dictated, I imagine, by the fashion prevalent in particular places at particular times. I have tried to arrange them in groups.



In the first place the chair is usually a rather elaborate piece of furniture, with arms, a straight back, and, very frequently, a canopy. A cushion to sit upon is sometimes permitted, but, as a general rule, these chairs are destitute of stuffing, tapestry, or other device to conceal the material of which they are made. Occasionally the canopy is richly carved or painted in a pattern.

The commonest form of desk is a modification of the lectern-system. It consists of a double lectern, beneath which is a row of cupboards, or rather a shelf protected by several doors, one of which is always at the end of the piece of furniture. The triangular space under the lectern is also used for books. This device is specially commended by Richard de Bury in the Philobiblon[529]. "Moses," says he, "the gentlest of men, teaches us to make bookcases most neatly, wherein they may be protected from any injury: Take, he says, this book of the law, and put it in the side of the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God." My illustration (fig. 138) is taken from an edition of the Ship of Fools, printed at Basle by Nicolas Lamparter in 1507. In this example the desk with its cupboards stands on a plinth, and this again on a broad step. Both are probably introduced to ensure steadiness.



The seated figure represents a bibliomaniac who treats his books as mere curiosities from which he derives no mental improvement. He has put on his spectacles and wielded his feather-brush, in order to dust the leaves of a folio with greater care. Under the cut are the following explanatory lines:

Qui libros tyriis vestit honoribus Et blattas abijt puluerulentulas Nec discens animum litterulis colit: Mercatur nimia stultieiam stipe.

I append a rough translation:

Who clothes his books in Tyrian dyes, Then brushes off the dust and flies, Nor reads one line to make him wise, Spends lavish gold and—FOLLY buys.

Such a desk as this was used in the succeeding century in at least two libraries belonging to ladies of high rank. The first belonged to Margaret of Austria, daughter of Maximilian, Emperor of Germany. She had been the wife of Philibert II., Duke of Savoy, and after his death, 10 September, 1504, her father made her regent of the Netherlands. She died at Malines 30 November, 1530, at the age of fifty. She seems to have been a liberal patroness of literature and the arts, and the beautiful church that she built at Brou in memory of her husband bears witness to her architectural taste and skill.

The inventory, out of which I hope to reconstruct her library, is dated 20 April, 1524[530]. It is headed: "Library," and begins with the following entry: "The first desk (pourpitre) begins over the door, and goes all round up to the fireplace." On this desk or shelf are enumerated fifty-two volumes, all bound in velvet with gilt bosses. This entry is succeeded by: "here follow the Books of Hours, being on a desk high up in continuation of the preceding one between the windows and the fireplace." This desk contains twenty-six volumes bound in velvet, red satin, or cloth of gold, with gilt bosses.

We come next to "the first desk below (d'ambas) beginning near the door at the first seat." This desk carries nine books, presumably on the sloping portion, because we presently come to a paragraph headed "here follow the books covered with leather &c., which are underneath the desks beginning near the door." The author of the inventory then returns to the first desk, and enumerates eleven volumes. He next goes round to "the other side of the said desk," and enumerates thirteen volumes. In this way six desks are gone through. All have books bound in black, blue, crimson, or violet, velvet laid out upon them, while those in plainer dress are consigned to the shelves beneath. It should be added that the fourth desk is described as being near the fireplace (empres la chemynee).

The desks having been gone through, we come to "the books which are within the iron trellis beginning near the door." This piece of furniture contained twenty-seven volumes.

The number of books accommodated in the whole room was as follows:

First shelf 52 Second shelf 26 78 First desk (sloping portion) 9 Under desk: one side 11 " " other side 13 24 33 ———— Second desk 21 11 10 21 42 ———— Third " " 26 13 10 23 49 ———— Fourth " " 15 18 14 32 47 ———— Fifth " " 19 11 10 21 40 ———— Sixth " " 20 9 10 19 39 250 ———— Within the trellis-work 27 355

We will next try to form some idea of the way in which this library was arranged; and first of the two shelves which begin "over the door." A shelf in this position is shewn in Carpaccio's well-known picture of S. Jerome in his study. It is set deskwise against the wall supported on iron brackets. As a large proportion of the fifty-two volumes on our shelf are described as of large size (grant), we shall be justified in assuming that each was 10 in. broad. The total therefore would occupy 520 in. or say 43 ft. at least, not allowing for intervals between them. This shelf extended from the door round the room to the fireplace, by which I suppose we are to understand that it began on the wall which contained the door, and was carried round the corner of the room up to the fireplace.

The second shelf, at the same height as the preceding, contained only twenty-six volumes, fifteen of which are described as small (petit). A space of thirteen feet or even less will therefore be amply sufficient to contain them.

The six desks which stood on the floor were, I imagine, constructed in some such way as that which I have figured above from the Ship of Fools. It is evident that books in velvet bindings and adorned with gilt bosses would be set out where they could be seen, and for such a purpose what could be better than a lectern? The table I have given above shews that there were 110 volumes thus disposed, or an average of say 18 to each desk. A careful analysis of the inventory, where the size of each book is always set down, shews me that there were very few small books in this part of the library, but that they were divided between large (grant) and medium size (moien). If we allow 8 in. for each book, we get an average of 144 in. = 12 ft. for each desk, that is, as the desk was double, the piece of furniture was 6 ft. long. Under the sloping portion it had a shelf on each side. Four such desks stood between the door and the fireplace, and two between the fireplace and the window, which seems to have been opposite the door.

We are not told where the "trellis of iron" was. I suppose these words mean some shelves set against the wall with ironwork in front of them. As the enumeration of the books begins "near the door" the piece of furniture may be placed on the side of the door opposite to the former desks.

The inventory further shews that this library did duty as a museum. It was in fact filled with rare and beautiful objects, and must have presented a singularly rich appearance. In the middle of the hood over the fireplace was a stag's head and horns bearing a crucifix. There was a bust of the Duke of Savoy, in white marble, forming a pendant to one of the Duchess Margaret herself, and in the same material a statuette of a boy extracting a thorn from his foot, probably a copy of the antique in the Ducal Gallery at Florence. There were also twenty oil paintings in the room, some of which were hung round the hood of the fireplace. Besides these works of art there were several pieces of furniture, as, for instance, a large press containing a complete set of armour, a sideboard "a la mode d'Italie," given as a present by the viceroy of Naples; a square table of inlaid work; a smaller table bearing the arms of Burgundy and Spain; three mirrors; a number of objects in rock-crystal; and lastly some feather dresses from India (S. America?), presented by the Emperor.

It is provoking that the inventory, minute as it is, should desert us at the most important point, and give insufficient data for estimating the size of the room. I conjecture that it was about 46 ft. long from the following considerations. In the first place, I allow 2 ft. for the width of each desk. Of these there were four between the door and the fireplace = 8 ft. Secondly, I allow 3 ft. each for the five intervals = 15 ft., or a total of 23 ft. from the door to the fireplace. For the fireplace itself I allow 10 ft. Between the fireplace and the wall containing the window or windows, there were two desks and three intervals = 13 ft. I pointed out above that 43 ft. at least might be allowed for the shelf extending from the door to the fireplace. Of this I have absorbed 23 ft., leaving 20 ft. for the distance from the door to the corner of the room. As we are not told anything about the position of the door my estimate of the size of the room cannot be carried further.

A similar arrangement obtained in the library of Anne de France, daughter of Louis XI., or as she is usually called Anne de Beaujeu[531]. Her catalogue made 19 September, 1523, records 314 titles, which I need hardly say represent a far larger number of books. They were arranged like those of the Duchess Margaret, on eleven desks (poulpitres). These were set round a room, with the exception of two which were placed in the middle of it. It is interesting to note respecting one of these, that it had a cupboard at the end, for the contents are entered as follows: au bout dudit poulpitre sont enclos les livres qui s'ensuivent, and sixteen volumes are enumerated. There was also a shelf set against the wall, described as le plus hault poulpitre le long de la dite muraille, which contained fifty-five volumes. This desk was probably high up, like the one in the library of the Duchess Margaret. The books upon it are noted as being all covered with red velvet, and ornamented with clasps, bosses, and corner-pieces of metal. There were also in this library an astrolabe, and a sphere with the signs of the Zodiac.



A desk, similar in general character to that figured in the Ship of Fools, but of a curiously modern type, occurs in an Hours in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, executed about 1445 for Isabel, Duchess of Brittany. The picture (fig. 139) represents S. John writing his Gospel.

A modification of this form of desk was common in Italy. It is often used by painters of the fifteenth century in pictures of the Annunciation, where it does duty as a prie-dieu. The example I have selected (fig. 140) is from a painting by Benedetto Bonfigli, in the church of S. Peter at Perugia. It represents S. Jerome writing. A small circular revolving desk, at the left-hand corner of the larger desk, holds the work he is copying or referring to. On the desk near the inkstand lies the pointed stylus mentioned above. Below the cupboard containing books is a drawer. Projecting from the top of the revolving desk, there is a vertical rod of iron with a long horizontal arm. This is no doubt intended to carry a lantern. I shall shortly give an example of one in such a position.



I now return to the wheel-desk, of which I have already figured one specimen (fig. 135). A piece of furniture consisting of one or more tables which could be raised or depressed by means of a central screw, was very generally used by scholars in the Middle Ages. I shall present a few of the most common forms.



My first specimen is from a manuscript in the British Museum, written and illuminated in England in the middle of the fifteenth century. It is called Fais et Gestes du Roi Alexandre[532]. The picture (fig. 141) represents Alexander as a little child, standing in front of his tutor, who is seated in one of the chairs I described above. On the learned man's right is his book-desk. A circular table with a rim round it to prevent the books falling off, is supported on a central pedestal, which contains the screw. The top of the said screw is concealed by the little Gothic turret in the centre of the table. This turret also supports the book which the reader has in use.



My next example is from a miniature in a volume of Hours known as the Dunois Horae, also written in the middle of the fifteenth century. It has been slightly enlarged in order to bring out the details more clearly. The subject is S. Luke writing his Gospel, but the background represents a scholar's room. There is a bookcase of a very modern type, a table with two folio volumes lying upon it, and in the centre a hexagonal book-desk, with a little Gothic turret as in the last example. Round the screw under the table are four cylindrical supports, the use of which I fail to understand, but they occur frequently on desks of this type. The whole piece of furniture rests on a heavy cylindrical base, and that again on a square platform.

I now pass to a variety of the screw-desk, which has a small book-rest above the table. The whole structure rests upon a prolongation of the solid platform on which the reader's chair is placed, so that it is really exactly in front of the reader. My illustration (fig. 143) is from "The booke of the noble ladyes in frensh," a work by Boccacio; it was written in France early in the fifteenth century[533].



These double desks are exceedingly common, and I might fill a large number of pages with figures and descriptions of the variety which the ingenuity of the cabinet-makers of the fifteenth century managed to impart to combinations of a screw and two or more tables. I will content myself with one more example (fig. 144) which shews the screw exceedingly well, and the two tables above it. The uppermost of these serves as a ledge to rest the books on, as does also the hexagonal block above it which conceals the top of the screw[534].

We meet occasionally with a solid desk, by which I mean one the level of which cannot be altered. In the example here given (fig. 145) from a French MS. of Le Miroir Historial, there is a central spike which I suspect to have been intended to carry a candle[535].

In some examples of these book-desks the pedestal is utilized as a book-cupboard (fig. 146). The picture which I have selected as shewing a desk of this peculiarity is singularly beautiful, and finished in the highest style of art available at the end of the fifteenth century in France. It forms half of the frontispiece to a fine manuscript of Boccacio's Livre des cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes[536]. The central figure is apparently lecturing on that moving theme, for in front of him, in the other half of the picture, is a crowd of men exhibiting their interest by the violence of their gestures. On his left is the desk I mentioned; it stands on an unusually firm base, and one side of the vertical portion is pierced by an arch, so as to make the central cavity available for putting books in. From the centre of the table rises a tall spike, apparently of iron, to which is attached a horizontal arm, bearing a lighted lantern. On the table, in addition to three books, is an inkstand and pen-case. In front of the lecturer is a carved chest, probably one of those book-coffers which I have already mentioned. The chair and canopy are richly carved, and the back of the seat is partially covered by a piece of tapestry. Further, the lecturer is allowed the unusual luxury of a cushion.

I will next deal with the appliances for reading and writing directly connected with the chairs in which scholars sat, and I will begin with the desk.



The simplest form of desk is a plain board, set at a suitable angle by means of a chain or cord extending from one of its corners to the back of the chair, while the opposite corner rests against a peg driven into the arm of the chair. This arrangement, variously modified, occurs very frequently; sometimes there are two pegs and two chains, but what I may term the normal form is shewn in my illustration (fig. 147)[537]. It is difficult to understand how the desk was kept steady.



The author whose study I shall figure next (fig. 148) is engaged in writing the Chronicles of Hainault[538]. His desk rests securely on two irons fastened to the arms of his chair. On his right is a plain lectern with an open volume on each side of it, and behind are two or more shelves set against the wall with books lying on their sides. On his left is a chest, presumably a book-chest, with books lying on its closed lid. One of these is open. He has prudently placed his chair near the window in such a position that the light falls upon his work from the left. It should be noted that the upper part of the window only is glazed, the lower part being closed by shutters. When these are thrown back, the lights are seen to be filled to half their height with a trellis, such as was ordered for the French king's library.

My third example of a chair fitted with a desk (fig. 149) is taken from Les Miracles de Notre Dame[539], a manuscript which belonged to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, and was written for him at the Hague in 1456. The illustration represents S. Jerome seated in his study. From arm to arm of the chair extends a desk of a very firm and solid construction. The ends of this desk apparently drop into the heads of the small columns with which the arms of the chair terminate. The saint has in his left hand a pointed stylus, and in his right a pen, which he is holding up to the light. On the desk beside the manuscript lies an ink-horn. To the right of the saint's chair is a hexagonal table with a high ledge round it. There is no evidence that this table has a screw; but the small subsidiary desk above it seems to be provided with one. It will be observed that the support of this desk is not directly over that of the table beneath it. The desk is provided with two slits—an ingenious contrivance for dealing with a roll. On the table, besides an open book, are a pair of spectacles, four pens, a small box which may contain French chalk for pouncing, and what looks like a piece of sponge.



I now figure two different sets of library appliances. The first (fig. 150) is from a manuscript of the Livre des Proprietes des Choses, in the British Museum, written in the fifteenth century[540]. The writer is seated in one of those low chairs which occur very frequently in miniatures, and look as if they were cut out of a single block of wood. His desk, which is quite independent of the chair, is of the simplest design, consisting of a piece of wood supported at an angle on two carved uprights. On his left stands a very elegant piece of furniture, a table with a desk at a considerable height above it—so high, in fact, that it could only be used standing. This upper desk is fitted with a little door as though it served as a receptacle for small objects.



The second example (fig. 151) shews S. Luke sitting on a bench writing at a table[541]. The top, which is very massive, rests on four legs, morticed into a frame. In front of this table is a desk of peculiar form; the lower part resembles a reversed cone, and the upper part a second cone of smaller diameter, so as to leave space enough between the two bases for a ledge to rest books on. Round the base of the desk three quaint lions do duty as feet. These lions occur again beneath the frame of the picture, and may be connected with a former possessor of the manuscript. The pedestal of the desk is a twisted column, which, like the base, and indeed the whole structure, looks as though it were made of brass.



I now pass to a totally different way of fitting up a study, which seems to have been common in Italy, to judge by the number of paintings in which it occurs. It consists of a massive desk of wood, one part of which is set at right angles to the other, and is connected in various ways with shelves, drawers, pigeon-holes, and other contrivances for holding books and papers. In the example I here figure (fig. 152), from a painting by Fra Filippo Lippi (1412-1469) representing S. Augustine's vision of the Trinity, there are two small recesses above the desk on the saint's right, both containing books, and behind the shorter portion of the desk, three shelves also with books on them. Attached to the end of the desk is a small tray, probably to contain pens.

A similar desk occurs in the beautiful picture by Catena in the National Gallery[542], representing S. Jerome reading, of which I give a reproduction on a reduced scale (fig. 153). This picture also contains an excellent example of a cupboard in the thickness of the wall, a contrivance for taking care of books as common in the Middle Ages as it had been in Roman times[543].

Cupboards in the thickness of the wall are also to be seen in the frontispiece (fig. 154) to a copy of a French translation of Valerius Maximus[544], written in Flanders in 1479 for King Edward IV. The writer—probably intended for the author or the translator of the book—is seated at a desk, consisting of a plank set at an angle and capable of being turned aside by means of a central bracket, like that used by the Carmelite (fig. 136). Observe the two weights hanging over the edge of the desk and the ends of the two horns, intended to hold ink, projecting through it. The window, as in the picture representing the author of the Chronicles of Hainault at work, is glazed in the upper part only, while in the lower are two framed trellises of wire-work. Behind the writer are two cupboards in the thickness of the wall. One of these is open, and shews books lying on their sides, upon which are some pomegranates. I cannot suggest any reason for the introduction of these fruits, except that from their colour they make a pleasing variety; but I ought to mention that they occur very frequently in miniatures representing a writer at work. On the other side of the window is a small hanging cupboard. Here again a fruit is introduced on the lowest shelf. Round the room is a settle, raised above the floor on blocks at intervals. The seat is probably a chest, as in the settles described above in the Vatican Library.

The last picture (fig. 155) in this series of illustrations represents what I like to call a scholar's room, at the beginning of the fifteenth century[545]. The owner of the apartment is busily writing at a desk supported on a trestle-table. He holds a stylus in his left hand, and a pen in his right. The ink-horn he is using is inserted into the desk. Above it are holes for two others, in case he should require ink of different colours. Above the inkstand is a pen stuck in a hole, with vacant holes beside it. The page on the desk is kept flat by a weight. Above this desk is a second desk, of nearly equal size, on which lies an open book, kept open by a large weight, extending over two-thirds of the open pages. Behind the writer's chair is his book-chest. The background represents a well-appointed chamber. The floor is paved with encaustic tiles; a bright fire is burning on the hearth; the window, on the same plan as that described in the last picture, is open; a comfortable—not to say luxurious—bed invites repose. The walls are unplastered, but there is a hanging under the window and over the head of the bed.

With this simple room, containing a scholar's necessaries and no more, I will contrast the study of the Duke of Urbino.

This beautiful room, which still exists as the Duke left it, is on an upper floor of the castle, commanding from its balcony, which faces the south, an extensive view of the approach to the Castle, the city, and the country beyond, backed by the Apennines. It is of small size, measuring only 11 ft. 6 in. by 13 ft. 4 in., and is somewhat irregular in shape. It is entered by a door from the Duke's private apartment. The floor is paved with rough tiles set in patterns. The walls are panelled to a height of about eight feet. The bare space between the top of the panel-work and the ceiling was probably hung with tapestry. The ceiling is a beautiful specimen of the most elaborate plaster-work, disposed in octagonal panels. The decoration of the panel-work begins with a representation of a bench, on which various objects are lying executed in intarsia work. Above this bench is a row of small panels, above which again is a row of large panels, each containing a subject in the finest intarsia, as for example a portrait of Duke Frederick, figures of Faith, Hope, and other virtues, a pile of books, musical instruments, armour, a parrot in a cage, etc. In the cornice above these is the word FEDERICO, and the date 1476.



Opposite the window there is a small cupboard, and on the opposite side of the projection containing it there are a few shelves. These are the only receptacles for books in the room. From its small size it could have contained but little furniture, and was probably intended for the purpose traditionally ascribed to it, namely as a place of retirement for the Duke when he wished to be alone.

Another specimen of a library so arranged as to provide a peaceful retreat is afforded a century later by that of Montaigne, of which he has fortunately left a minute description.

[My library is] in the third story of a Tower, of which the Ground-room is my Chappel, the second story an Apartment with a withdrawing Room and Closet, where I often lie to be more retired. Above it is a great Wardrobe, which formerly was the most useless part of the House. I there pass away both the most of the Days of my Life, and most of the Hours of those Days. In the Night I am never there. There is within it a Cabinet handsome and neat enough, with a Fire-place very commodiously contriv'd, and Light very finely fitted. And was I not more afraid of the Trouble than the Expence, the Trouble that frights me from all Business, I could very easily adjoyn on either side, and on the same Floor, a Gallery of an hundred paces long, and twelve broad, having found Walls already rais'd for some other Design, to the requisite height. Every place of retirement requires a Walk. My Thoughts sleep if I sit still; my Fancy does not go by itself, as when my Legs move it: and all those who study without a Book are in the same Condition.

The figure of my Study is round, and has no more flat Wall than what is taken up by my Table, and my Chairs; so that the remaining parts of the Circle present me a view of all my books at once, set up upon five degrees of Shelves round about me. It has three noble and free Prospects, and is sixteen paces[546] Diameter. I am not so continually there in Winter; for my House is built upon an Eminence, as its Name imports, and no part of it is so much expos'd to the Wind and Weather as that, which pleases me the better, for being of a painful access, and a little remote, as well upon the account of Exercise, as being also there more retir'd from the Crowd. 'Tis there that I am in my Kingdom, as we say, and there I endeavour to make myself an absolute Monarch, and so sequester this one Corner from all Society both Conjugal, Filial, and Civil[547].

The notices of libraries which I have collected have brought me to the end of the sixteenth century, by which time most of the appliances in use in the Middle Ages had been given up. I hope that I have not exhausted the patience of my readers by presenting too long a series of illustrations extracted from manuscripts. I love, as I look at them, to picture to myself the medieval man of letters, laboriously penning voluminous treatises in the writing room of a monastery, or in his own study, with his scanty collection of books within his reach, on shelves, or in a chest, or lying on a table. We sometimes call the ages dark in which he lived, but the mechanical ingenuity displayed in the devices by which his studies were assisted might put to shame the cabinet-makers of our own day.

As the fashion of collecting books, and of having them bound at a lavish expense, increased, it was obvious that they must be laid out so as to be seen and consulted without the danger of spoiling their costly covers. Hence the development of the lectern-system in private houses, and the arrangement of a room such as the Duchess Margaret possessed at Malines. Gradually, however, as books multiplied, and came into the possession of persons who could not afford costly bindings, lecterns were abandoned, and books were ranged on shelves against the wall, as in the public libraries which I described in the last chapter.

There is still in existence, on an upper floor in the Palazzo Barberini at Rome, a library of this description, which has probably not been altered in any way since it was fitted up by Cardinal Francesco Barberini about 1630. The room is 105 ft. long by 28 ft. broad, and is admirably lighted by two windows in the south wall, and seven in the gallery. The shelves are set round three sides of the room at a short distance from the wall, so as to leave space for a gallery and the stairs to it. The cases are divided into compartments by fluted Ionic columns 5 ft. high. These rest upon a flat shelf 14 in. wide, beneath which are drawers for papers and a row of folios. This part of the structure is 3 ft. high from the floor to the base of the columns. Above the columns is a cornice, part of which is utilized for books; and above this again is the gallery, where the arrangement of the shelves is a repetition of what I have described in the lower part of the room. Dwarf cases in a plainer style and of later date are set along the sides and ends of the room. Upon these are desks for the catalogue, a pair of globes, some astronomical instruments, and some sepulchral urns found at Praeneste. The older woodwork in this library has never been painted or varnished, and the whole aspect of the room is singularly old-world and delightful.



Another instance is afforded by the sketch of the library of John Boys, Dean of Canterbury, who died in 1625. It occurs on the title-page of his works dated 1622, and I may add on his tomb in Canterbury Cathedral also. He clung to ancient fashions so far as to set his books with their fore-edge outwards, but in other respects his book-shelves are of a modern type.

* * * * *

I have now reached the limit which I imposed upon myself when I began this essay. But before I conclude let me say a few last words. I wish to point out that collectors and builders in the Middle Ages did not guard their manuscripts with jealous care merely because they had paid a high price to have them written; they recognised what I may call the personal element in them; they invested them with the senses and the feelings of human beings; and bestowed them like guests whom they delighted to honour. No one who reads the Philobiblon can fail to see that every page of it is pervaded by this sentiment; and this I think explains the elaborate precautions against theft; the equally elaborate care taken to arrange a library in so orderly a fashion that each book might be accessible with the least difficulty and the least delay; and the exuberant gratitude with which the arrival of a new book was welcomed.

In my present work I have looked at libraries from the technical side exclusively. It would have been useless to try to combine fire and water, sentiment and fact. But let me remind my readers that we are not so far removed from the medieval standpoint as some of us perhaps would wish. When we enter the library of Queens' College, or the older part of the University Library, at Cambridge, where there has been continuity from the fifteenth century to the present day, are we not moved by feelings such as I have tried to indicate, such in fact as moved John Leland when he saw the library at Glastonbury for the first time?

Moreover, there is another sentiment closely allied to this by which members of a College or a University are more deeply moved than others—I mean the sentiment of association. The most prosaic among them cannot fail to remember that the very floors were trodden by the feet of the great scholars of the past; that Erasmus may have sat at that window on that bench, and read the very book which we are ourselves about to borrow.

But in these collections the present is not forgotten; the authors of to-day are taking their places beside the authors of the past, and are being treated with the same care. On all sides we see progress: the lecterns and the stalls are still in use and keep green the memory of old fashions; while near them the plain shelving of the twentieth century bears witness to the ever-present need for more space to hold the invading hordes of books that represent the literature of to-day. On the one hand, we see the past; on the other, the present; and both are animated by full, vigorous life.

FOOTNOTES:

[521] MSS. Mus. Brit., MSS. Cotton, Claudius E. 4, part 1. fol. 124. I have to thank my friend, Mr Hubert Hall, of the Public Record Office, for drawing my attention to this illustration.

[522] Gesta Abbatum, ed. Rolls series, I. p. 184. I owe this reference and its translation to the Reverend F. A. Gasquet, Medieval Monastic Libraries, p. 89, in Downside Review, 1891, Vol. X. No. 2.

[523] Henri Havard, Dict. de l' Ameublement, s. v. Librairie. The first chest is described in the following words: "Livres estans en la grant chambre dudit Seigneur, en ung escrin assiz sur deux crampons, lequel est a la fenestre empres la cheminee de ladite chambre, et est a deux couvescles, en l'une des parties dequel coffre estoient les parties qui s'ensuivent." See also J. Labarle: Inventaire du Mobilier de Charles V. 4to. Paris, 1879, p. 336.

[524] Franklin, Anc. Bibl. de Paris, Vol. II. p. 112. A copy of this account is in the Bibliotheque de l'Arsenal, No. 6362. This I have collated with M. Franklin's text. The most important passage is the following: A Jacques du Parvis et Jean Grosbois, huchiers, pour leur peine d'avoir dessemble tous les bancs et deux roes qui estoient en la librairie du Roy au palais, et iceux faict venir audit Louvre, avec les lettrins et icelles roes estrecies chacune d'un pied tout autour; et tout rassemble et pendu les lettrins es deux derraines estages de la tour, devers la Fauconnerie, pour mettre les livres du Roy; et lambroissie de bort d'Illande le premier d'iceux deux estages tout autour par dedans, au pris de L. francs d'or, par marche faict a eux par ledit maistre Jacques, XIV^e jour de mars 1367.

[525] A. Berty, Topographie historique du vieux Paris, 4to. Paris, 1866, Vol. I. pp. 143-146. He considers that the "bort d'Illande" was Dutch oak, 480 pieces of which had been given to the king by the officer called Senechal of Hainault.

[526] MSS. Mus. Brit. 14 E. V.

[527] MSS. Mus. Brit. 14 E. 1. This miniature has been reproduced by Father Gasquet in the paper quoted above.

[528] MSS. Mus. Brit., MSS. Harl. 4375, f. 151 b.

[529] The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury: ed. E. C. Thomas, London, 1888.

[530] Printed in Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des Allerhoechsten Kaiserhauses, Band III. 4to. Wien, 1885.

[531] Lerou de Lincey, Melanges de la Societe des Bibliophiles, 1850, p. 231.

[532] MSS. Mus. Brit. 15 E. VI.

[533] MS. Mus. Brit. 20 C. V.

[534] Paris, Bibliotheque de l'Arsenal, MS. 5193, fol. 311. Boccacio: Cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes.

[535] Paris, Bibl. Nat., MSS. Francais, 50, Le Miroir Historial, by Vincent de Beauvais, fol. 340. Probably written in cent. XV.

[536] MSS. Mus. Brit. Add. 35321. MSS. Waddesdon, No. 12. Bequeathed by Baron Ferdinand Rothschild.

[537] MSS. Bodl. Lib. Oxf., MSS. Rawl. Liturg. e. 24, fol. 17 b.

[538] MSS. Bibliotheque Royale de Bruxelles, No. 9242. Chroniques de Hainaut, Pt. I. fol. 2, 1446.

[539] MSS. Bibl. Nat. Paris, MSS. Fran. 9198. See Miracles de Nostre Dame, by J. Mielot, Roxburghe Club, 1885; with introduction by G. F. Warner, M.A.

[540] MSS. Cotton, Augustus, VI. fol. 213 b. There is a beautiful example of a table and desk on this plan in a MS. of La Cite des Dames, from the old Royal Library of France in the Bibl. Nat., MSS. Fran. 1177.

[541] MSS. Bodl. Lib. Oxf., MSS. Douce, No. 381, fol. 159. A second example occurs in the same MS., fol. 160.

[542] I have to thank my friend Sidney Colvin, M.A., for drawing my attention to this picture.

[543] See above, pp. 37, 38.

[544] MSS. Mus. Brit. 18 E. IV.

[545] Le Debat de l'honneur entre trois Princes chevalereux. Bibil. Roy. Bruxelles, No. 9278, fol. 10. The MS. is from the library of the Dukes of Burgundy, and may be dated in the second third of the fifteenth century.

[546] The original words are 'seize pas de vuide.' The substantive 'pas' must I think mean a foot, the length a foot makes when set upon the ground. The word pace, the length of which is 2 ft. 6 in. or 3 ft., is inapplicable here.

[547] Essays of Michael Seigneur de Montaigne. Made English by Ch. Cotton, Vol. III. pp. 53, 54. 8vo. London, 1741. I have to thank my friend Mr A. F. Sieveking for this reference.



INDEX.

Abingdon, Berks, Benedictine House at: customs in force respecting books, 68; carrells set up, 98

Abingdon: School library, 262

Actor and masks: relief representing in Lateran Museum, Rome, 36

Agapetus, pope: his intended college and library, 44

Albans (S.): form of curse used, 78; endowment of scriptorium, 80; library built 1452-3, 108; stained glass, 241

Alencon: town library, 287

Alexandria: account of libraries, 6; in museum, ibid.; in temple of Serapis, 7

All Souls' Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 137; special provisions, 138

Ambrosian Library, Milan: description, 271; may have been copied by Wren at S. Paul's, London, 282

analogium: a book-desk, 105, 197, 243

Anne de Beaujeu: her library, 302

Antony, Mark: gives library at Pergamon to Cleopatra, 8

Apollo: temple and area on Palatine Hill at Rome, 14; composition of the library, 18, 19; allusions to, by Ovid and Horace, ibid.

Apollonius Thyaneus: commemorated in Roman library, 23

Apse, triple: how treated in early times, 63; De Rossi's theory, ibid.; description by Paulinus of Nola, ibid.; view of Lenoir, 64, note

Aristotle: said to have been a book-collector, 5; his methods adopted by the Ptolemies, ibid.

Ark: desk on pattern of, 297

armarium: in Ulpian library, 20; described by Nibby, 37; to contain codices, ibid.; held by jurist Ulpian to be part of the library, ibid.; description by Pliny of one sunk in wall of a room, 38; on sarcophagus in Museo Nazionale, Rome, with shoemaker at work, ibid.; on do. in Villa Balestra, Rome, with physician reading, ibid.; on tomb of Galla Placidia, 39; in Jewish synagogues, ibid. note; in Codex Amiatinus, 40, 41; verses composed for his own presses by Isidore, Bp of Seville, 45; called fenestra by Pachomius, 64, 65, note; alluded to by S. Benedict, 66; word used for a library by the Cluniacs, 67; placed in charge of precentor, who is called also armarius, ibid.; same provisions in force at Abingdon, 68; at Evesham, 69; word used for a library by the Carthusians, 69; described in Augustinian Customs, 71; what this piece of furniture was, 81-96; the armarium commune, 82; this described and figured at Fossa Nuova, ibid.; Worcester Cathedral, 84; Kirkstall, 85; Meaux, 86; at Titchfield, 87; Durham, 93; book-presses in cloister at Durham and Westminster, 90-94; in France, 94; examples of presses at Bayeux, Obazine, and S. Germain l'Auxerrois, 94-96; supervision of press at S. Augustine's, Canterbury, 99

armarius (who is also Precentor): has charge of library in Cluniac Houses, 67, 73; in Augustinian, 71; provides for borrowing as well as lending books among the Premonstratensians, 72

Arts: books required for course in, at Cambridge, 147

Assisi: library at, catalogued 1381, 73; analysis of this, 206, 207

Assur-bani-pal, King of Nineveh: library in his palace, 2

Astrolabe: in library of Anne de Beaujeu, 303

Athens: notices of ancient libraries at, 5; library built by Hadrian, 6, 16

Attalus, King: note on his stoa at Athens, 11, note

Augustine (S.): directions about church library at Hippo, 63

Augustine (S.), Benedictine House at Canterbury: extract from custumary on care of MSS., 76; rules for use of carrells, 99; organisation of library in cloister, ibid.

Augustinians: rules for books in force among, 71

Augustus: builds libraries in Rome, 12; porticus Octaviae, ibid.; temple and area of Apollo Palatinus, 14; their organisation, 18

Autun, College d', Paris: library at, 166

Bale, John, laments loss of monastic libraries, 246

Bamberg: chained book from monastery, 159

banca or bancus: meaning discussed, 242

Bancroft, Abp, his library brought to Cambridge, 253

Barber Surgeons, Lond.: books in their library chained 1639, 265

Barberini: library in their palace at Rome, 316

Bateman, Will., Bp of Norwich: his library statute for Trinity Hall, 136; division of his library, 144

Bayeux, Cathedral: press called Le Chartrier described and figured, 94; library at, 125

Beaulieu, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86; book-recesses in wall of cloister, 89

Benedict (S.): passage in his Rule respecting study, 66

Benedictines: decrees given to English monks of the Order by Abp Lanfranc, 67; customs in force at S. Benoit-sur-Loire, 68, note; at Abingdon, Berks, ibid.; at Evesham, Worcestershire, 69; their books bestowed in wooden presses, 84; arrangement adopted at Durham, 90

Benoit (S.)-sur-Loire: customs quoted, 68, note; endowment of library, 79

Bicester: school library, 262

Bobbio: library, 102

Bodleian Library, Oxf.: description, as fitted up by Sir T. Bodley, 185; chains taken off 1757, 266; inconvenience of chaining, 266; new bookcases on wall-system, 275

Boethius: decoration of his library, 41; view of a library in MS. of his Cons. of Phil., 163, 164

Bolton, Lanc.: school, 264

Book-room: in Cistercian Houses, 84-89; at Fossa Nuova, 83

Boys, John: his library, 317

Brandolini, A.: epigram on library of Sixtus IV., 211

Brasenose Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 137; chains taken off 1780, 266

breve or brevis = a book-ticket: in Cluniac Customs, 67; in Lanfranc's decrees for Benedictines, 68

Brewster, Will.: bequeathes books to All Saints' Ch., Hereford, 262

Budge, Dr Wallis: note on Mesopotamian discoveries, 4

Bury, Lanc.: library in school, 263

Bury S. Edmunds: use of carrells, 98; cloister glazed with stained glass, 100; library built 1429-45, 108

Busts in Roman libraries: see Portraits

Caesar, Julius: intends to build public library in Rome, 12

Caesarea: library, 62

Calder Abbey: portion of book-room, 88

Canterbury; see Christ Church, Canterbury

Canterbury Coll., Oxf.: library furnished from Christ Church, Canterbury, 143

capsa; box for carrying rolls, 30

Cardinal Coll., Oxf.; library statute, 137

Carols: see Carrells

Carpenter, John (Bp of Worcester): his library foundation, 126

Carpet: books to be laid out on, in Chapter House for annual audit in Cluniac Houses, 67; in Benedictine, 68

Carrells: in cloister at Durham, 90; detailed account of, with ground plan of a window, 96; at Westminster Abbey, 92, 93; series of, in stone, at Gloucester, 96-98; general considerations as to arrangement, 98; instances of their use in various houses, ibid.; by whom to be used, 99

Carthusians: rules for books in force among, 69

Cartmel, Lanc.: books to be chained in churchwarden's pew, 258

Cassiodorus: his Codex grandior mentioned, 40; intended college in Rome, 44; monastery, library, and scriptorium at Vivarium, ibid.

Catharine (S.) Coll., Camb.: number of books in library, 145; new cases, 285

Cedar: see Citrus

Cesena: description of library, 199-203

Chaining: books chained in S. Mary's Ch., Oxf., cent, xiii., 132; at Peterhouse, Camb., 135, 145; Trinity Hall, 136, 168; New Coll., Oxf., 137; indiscriminate chaining forbidden, 138; system in use at Zutphen explained, 153-159; in Stadtbibliothek at Nuremberg, 163; at Sorbonne, Paris, 164; College d'Autun, 166; S. Victor, ibid.; inconvenience of, at Oxf., 172; at Hereford described, 174-8; at Merton Coll., Oxf., 181, 182; traces of, at S. John's Coll., Oxf., 185; at Cathedral Library, Wells, 189; at Cesena, 203; on printed book from Hungary now at Ghent, 204; chains bought for Vatican Library, 219; at Medicean library, Florence, 238-240; at Grantham, 257; Cartmel, 258; Gorton, 259; Chetham library, Manchester, 260; Wimborne, 261; Denchworth, 262; All Saints', Hereford, ibid.; Abingdon, Berks, ibid.; Bicester, ibid.; Guildford, 263; instances of late use of chaining, 264; Faculty of Medicine, Paris, ibid.; Corpus Christi Coll., Camb., ibid.; Gray's Inn, ibid.; S. John's Coll., Gonville and Caius Coll., Peterhouse, Trinity Coll., Camb., 265; Library of Barber Surgeons, ibid.; wills of Sir M. Hale and M. Scrivener, ibid.; chains taken off at various places, 266; inconvenience of, at Bodleian, ibid., note

Chair with desk: figured in MSS., 309-312

Chapter-House: spaces divided off at west end for book-rooms in monasteries, 87-89; books read in neighbourhood of, 89

Charles V., King of France: book-chest, 293; fits up library in Louvre, ibid.

Chest for books: bought for Vatican Library, 218; used by Simon, Abbat of S. Albans, 292; in France, 293

Chester Cathedral: arches in cloister, possibly used for books, 89

Chetham, Humphry: provisions of will, 259; library in Manchester, 260

Chichele, Abp: builds library at Canterbury, 106; account of this, 190

Christ Church, Canterbury: curse from a MS., 78; library-walk of cloister, 91; sets of nine holes, 92; carrells in use, 99; glass in cloister, 100; catalogue, saec. xii., 102; library, 106; probable extent and arrangement of this described, 190-194; Howley-Harrison library, 256

Christopher Le Stocks (S.), Lond.: library, 244

Christ's Hospital, Lond.: library, 108

Churches: libraries built in or near, 61, 64

Cirta: library, 62

Cistercians: rules for books, 70; evolution of book-room, 84-89; plan of this at Fossa Nuova, 85; Kirkstall, ibid.; arrangement of books in, at Meaux, 86; Titchfield, 87; book-rooms at west end of Chapter House, Furness, ibid.; Calder Abbey, 88; Fountains, ibid.; Beaulieu, 89; Hayles ibid.; Chester Cathedral, ibid.