The Benedictine monastery of Lindesfarne, or the Holy Island, as it was called, was founded through the instrumentality of Oswald, the son of Ethelfrith, king of Northumberland, who was anxious for the promulgation of the Christian faith within his dominions. Aidan, the first bishop of whom we have any distinct account, was appointed about the year 635. Bede tells us that he used frequently to retire to the Isle of Farne, that he might pray in private and be undisturbed. This small island, distant about nine miles from the church of Lindesfarne, obtained great celebrity from St. Cuthbert, who sought that quiet spot and led there a lonely existence in great continence of mind and body. In 685 he was appointed to the see of Lindesfarne, where, by his pious example and regular life, he instructed many in their religious duties. The name of this illustrious saint is intimately connected with a most magnificent specimen of calligraphical art of the eighth century, preserved in the British Museum, and well known by the name of the Durham Book, or Saint Cuthbert's Gospels; it was written some years after the death of that Saint, in honor of his memory, by Egfrith, a monk of Lindesfarne, who was made bishop of that see in the year 698. At Egfrith's death in 721, his successor, Æthilwald, most beautifully bound it in gold and precious stones, and Bilfrid, a hermit, richly illuminated it by prefixing to each gospel a beautiful painting representing one of the Evangelists, and a tesselated cross, executed in a most elaborate manner. He also displayed great skill by illuminating the large capital letters at the commencement of each gospel. Doubtless, the hermit Bilfrid was an eminent artist in his day. Aldred, the Glossator, a priest of Durham, about the year 950, still more enriched this precious volume by interlining it with a Saxon Gloss, or version of the Latin text of St. Jerome, of which the original manuscript is a copy. It is therefore, one of the most venerable of those early attempts to render the holy scriptures into the vernacular tongue, and is on that account an interesting relic to the Christian reader, and, no doubt, formed the choicest volume in the library of Lindesfarne.

But imperfectly, indeed, have I described the splendid manuscript which is now lying, in all its charms, before me. And as I mark its fine old illuminations, so bright in color, and so chaste in execution, the accuracy of its transcription, and the uniform beauty of its calligraphy, my imagination carries me back to the quiet cloister of the old Saxon scribe who wrote it, and I can see in Egfrith, a bibliomaniac, of no mean pretensions, and in Bilfrid, a monkish illuminator, well initiated in the mysteries of his art. The manuscript contains 258 double columned folio pages, and the paintings of the Evangelists each occupy an entire page. We learn the history of its production from a very long note at the end of the manuscript, written by the hand of the glossator.

 

 

St. Cuthbert's Gospels.

But sad misfortunes were in store for the holy monks, for about 793, or a little earlier, when Highbald was abbot, the Danes burnt down the monastery and murdered the ecclesiastics; "most dreadful lightnings and other prodigies," says Simeon of Durham, "are said to have portended the impending ruin of this place; on the 7th of June they came to the church of Lindesfarne, miserably plundered all places, overthrew the altars, and carried away all the treasures of the church, some of the monks they slew, some they carried away captives, some they drowned in the sea, and others much afflicted and abused they turned away naked." Fortunately some of the poor monks escaped, and after a short time returned to their old spot, and with religious zeal set about repairing the damage which the sacred edifice had sustained; after its restoration they continued comparatively quiet till the time of Eardulfus, when the Danes in the year 875, again invaded England and burned down the monastery of Lindesfarne.

The monks obtained some knowledge of their coming and managed to effect their escape, taking with them the body of St. Cuthbert, which they highly venerated, with many other honored relics; they then set out with the bishop Eardulfus and the abbot Eadrid at their head on a sort of pilgrimage to discover some suitable resting place for the remains of their saint; but finding no safe locality, and becoming fatigued by the irksomeness of the journey, they as a last resource resolved to pass over to Ireland. For this purpose they proceeded to the sea, but no sooner were they on board the ship than a terrific storm arose, and had it not been for the fond care of their patron saint, a watery grave would have been forever their resting place; but, as it was, their lives were spared, and the holy bones preserved to bless mankind, and work wondrous miracles in the old church of the Saxon monks.

Nevertheless, considerable damage was sustained, and the fury of the angry waves forced them back again to the shore. The monks deeming this an indication of God's will that they should remain, decided upon doing so, and leaving the ship, they agreed to proceed on their way rejoicing, and place still greater trust in the mercy of God and the miraculous influence of St. Cuthbert's holy bones; but some whose reliance on Divine providence appears not so conspicuous, became dissatisfied, and separated from the rest till at last only seven monks were left besides their bishop and abbot. Their relics were too numerous and too cumbersome to be conveyed by so small a number, and they knew not how to proceed; but one of the seven whose name was Hanred had a vision, wherein he was told that they should repair to the sea, where they would find a book of Gospels adorned with gold and precious stones, which had been lost out of the ship when they were in the storm; and that after that he should see a bridle hanging on a tree, which he should take down and put upon a horse that would come to him, which horse he should put to a cart he would also find, to carry the holy body, which would be an ease to them.

All these things happening accordingly, they travelled with more comfort, following the horse, which way soever he should lead. The book above mentioned was no ways damaged by the water, and is still preserved in the library at Durham, where it remained till the Reformation, when it was stript of its jeweled covering, and after passing through many hands, ultimately came into the possession of Sir Robert Cotton, in whose collection, as we have said before, it is now preserved in the British Museum.

 

Alcuin's Letter on the occasion.

Alcuin Presenting Manuscripts Discovered by His Monks to Charlemagne

I cannot refrain, even at the risk of incurring some blame for my digression, presenting the reader with a part of a letter full of fraternal love, which Alcuin addressed to the monks of Lindesfarne on this sad occasion.

"Your dearest fraternity," says he, "was wont to afford me much joy. But now how different! though absent, I deeply lament the more your tribulations and calamities; the manner in which the Pagans contaminate the sanctuaries of God, and shed the blood of saints around the altar, devastating the joy of our house, and trampling on the bodies of holy men in the temple of God, as though they were treading on a dunghill in the street. But of what effect is our wailing unless we come before the altars of Christ and cry, 'Spare me, O Lord! spare thy people, and take not thine inheritance from them;' nor let the Pagans say, 'Where is the God of the Christians?' Besides who is to pacify the churches of Britain, if St. Cuthbert cannot defend them with so great a number of saints? Nevertheless do not trouble the mind about these things, for God chasteneth all the sons whom he receiveth, and therefore perhaps afflicts you the more, because he the more loveth you, Jerusalem, the delightful city of God, was lost by the Chaldean scourge; and Rome, the city of the holy Apostles and innumerable martyrs, was surrounded by the Pagans and devastated. Well nigh the whole of Europe is evacuated by the scourging sword of the Goths or the Huns. But in the same manner in which God preserved the stars to illuminate the heavens, so will He preserve the churches to ornament, and in their office to strengthen and increase the Christian religion."

Thus it came to pass that Eardulphus was the last bishop of Lindesfarne and the first of Cunecacestre, or Chester-upon-the-Street, to which place his see was removed previous to its final settlement at Durham.

After a succession of many bishops, some recorded as learned and bookish by monkish annalists, and nearly all benefactors in some way to their church, we arrive at the period when Aldwine was consecrated bishop of that see in the year 990. The commotions of his time made his presidency a troubled and harassing one. Sweyn, king of Denmark, and Olauis, king of Norway, invaded England, and spreading themselves in bodies over the kingdom, committed many and cruel depredations; a strong body of these infested the northern coast, and approached the vicinity of Chester-on-the-Street. This so alarmed Aldwine, that he resolved to quit his church—for the great riches and numerous relics of that holy place were attractive objects to the plundering propensities of the invaders. Carrying, therefore, the bones of St. Cuthbert with them—for that box of mortal dust was ever precious in the sight of those old monks—and the costly treasures of the church, not forgetting their books, the monks fled to Ripon, and the see, which after similar adversities their predecessors one hundred and thirteen years ago had settled at Chester, was forever removed. It is true three or four months after, as Symeon of Durham tells us, they attempted to return, but when they reached a place called Werdelan, "on the east and near unto Durham," they could not move the bier on which the body of St. Cuthbert was carried, although they applied their united strength to effect it. The superstition, or perhaps simplicity, of the monks instantly interpreted this into a manifestation of divine interference, and they resolved not to return again to their old spot. And we are further told that after three days' fasting and prayer, the Lord vouchsafed to reveal to them that they should bear the saintly burden to Durham, a command which they piously and cheerfully obeyed. Having arrived there, they fixed on a wild and uncultivated site, and making a simple oratory of wattles for the temporary reception of their relics, they set zealously to work—for these old monks well knew what labor was—to cut down wood, to clear the ground, and build an habitation for themselves. Shortly after, in the wilderness of that neglected spot, the worthy bishop Aldwine erected a goodly church of stone to the honor of God, and as a humble tribute of gratitude and love; and so it was that Aldwine, the last bishop of Chester-on-the-Street, was the first of Durham.

 

Removal to Durham.

Durham Cathedral

 

When William Carelepho, a Norman monk, was consecrated bishop, the church had so increased in wealth and usefulness, that fresh wants arose, more space was requisite, and a grander structure would be preferable; the bishop thereupon pulled the old church of Aldwine down and commenced the erection of a more magnificent one in its place, as the beauty of Durham cathedral sufficiently testifies even now; and will not the lover of artistic beauty award his praise to the Norman bishop—those massive columns and stupendous arches excite the admiring wonder of all; built on a rocky eminence and surrounded by all the charms of a romantic scenery, it is one of the finest specimens of architecture which the enthusiasm of monkish days dedicated to piety and to God. Its liberal founder however did not live to see it finished, for he died in the year 1095, two years after laying its foundation stone. His book-loving propensities have been honorably recorded, and not only was he fond of reading, but kept the pens of the scribes in constant motion, and used himself to superintend the transcription of manuscripts, as the colophon of a folio volume in Durham library fully proves. The monkish bibliophiles of his church received from him a precious gift of about 40 volumes, containing among other valuable books Prosper, Pompeii, Tertullian, and a great Bible in two volumes.

It would have been difficult perhaps to have found in those days a body of monks so "bookish" as those of Durham; not only did they transcribe with astonishing rapidity, proving that there was no want of vellum there, but they must have bought or otherwise collected a great number of books; for the see of Durham, in the early part of the 12th century, could show a library embracing nearly 300 volumes.

Nor let the reader imagine that the collection possessed no merit in a literary point of view, or that the monks cared for little else save legends of saints or the literature of the church; the catalogue proves them to have enjoyed a more liberal and a more refined taste, and again display the cloistered students of the middle ages as the preservers of classic learning. This is a point worth observing on looking over the old parchment catalogues of the monks; for as by their Epistles we obtain a knowledge of their intimacy with the old writers, and the use they made of them, so by their catalogues we catch a glimpse of the means they possessed of becoming personally acquainted with their beauties; by the process much light may be thrown on the gloom of those long past times, and perhaps we shall gain too a better view of the state of learning existing then. But that the reader may judge for himself, I extract the names of some of the writers whom the monks of Durham preserved and read:

 

· Alcuin.

· Ambrose.

· Aratores.

· Anselm.

· Augustine.

· Aviany.

· Bede.

· Boethius.

· Bernard.

· Cassian.

· Cassiodorus.

· Claudius.

· Cyprian.

· Donatus.

· Esop.

· Eutropius.

· Galen.

· Gregory.

· Haimo.

· Horace.

· Homer.

· Hugo.

· Juvenal.

· Isidore.

· Josephus.

· Lucan.

· Marcianus.

· Maximian.

· Orosius.

· Ovid.

· Prudentius.

· Prosper.

· Persius.

· Priscian.

· Peter Lombard.

· Plato.

· Pompeius Trogus.

· Quintilian.

· Rabanus.

· Solinus.

· Servius.

· Statius.

· Terence.

· Tully.

· Theodulus.

· Virgil.

· Gesta Anglorum.

· Gesta Normanorum.

 

Hugh de Pussar. Anthony Bek.

Hugh de Pussar, consecrated bishop in 1153, is the next who attracts our attention by his bibliomanical renown. He possessed perhaps the finest copy of the Holy Scriptures of any private collector; and he doubtless regarded his "unam Bibliam in iv. magnis voluminibus," with the veneration of a divine and the fondness of a student. He collected what in those times was deemed a respectable library, and bequeathed no less than sixty or seventy volumes to the Durham monks, including his great Bible, which has ever since been preserved with religious care; from a catalogue of them we learn his partiality for classical literature; a Tully, Sedulus, Priscian, and Claudius, are mentioned among them.

Anthony Bek, who was appointed to the see in the year 1283, was a most ambitious and haughty prelate, and caused great dissensions in his church. History proves how little he was adapted for the responsible duties of a bishop, and points to the field of battle or civil pomp as most congenial to his disposition. He ostentatiously displayed the splendor of a Palatine Prince, when he contributed his powerful aid to the cause of his sovereign, in the Scottish war, by a retinue of 500 horse, 1000 foot, 140 knights, and 26 standard bearers, rendered doubly imposing in those days of saintly worship and credulity, by the patronage of St. Cuthbert, under whole holy banner they marched against a brave and noble foe. His arbitrary temper caused sad quarrels in the cloister, which ultimately gave rise to a tedious law proceeding between him and the prior about the year 1300; from a record of this affair we learn that the bishop had borrowed some books from the library which afterwards he refused to return; there was among them a Decretal, a history of England, a Missal, and a volume called "The book of St. Cuthbert, in which the secrets of the monastery are written," which was alone valued at £200, probably in consideration of the important and delicate matters contained therein.

These proceedings were instituted by prior Hoton, who was fond of books, and had a great esteem for learning; he founded a college at Oxford for the monkish students of his church. On more than one occasion he sent parcels of books to Oxford; in a list of an early date it appears that the monks of Durham sent at one time twenty volumes, and shortly after fifteen more, consisting principally of church books and lives of saints. The numbers thus taken from their library the monks, with that love of learning for which they were so remarkable, anxiously replaced, by purchasing about twenty volumes, many of which contained a great number of small but choice pieces.

Robert de Graystane, a monk of Durham, was elected bishop by the prior and chapter, and confirmed on the 10th of November, 1333, but the king, Edward III, wishing to advance his treasurer to that see, refused his sanction to the proceeding; monk Robert was accordingly deposed, and Richard Angraville received the mitre in his stead. He was consecrated on the 19th of December in the same year, by John Stratford, archbishop of Canterbury, and installed by proxy on the 10th of January, 1334.

 

Richard de Bury and his Philobiblon, etc.

Angraville, Aungerville, or as he is more commonly called Richard de Bury, is a name which every bibliophile will honor and esteem; he was indeed a bibliomaniac of the first order, and a sketch of his life is not only indispensable here, but cannot fail to interest the book-loving reader. But before entering more at large into his bookish propensities and talents, it will be necessary to say something of his early days and the illustrious career which attended his political and ecclesiastical life. Richard de Bury, the son of Sir Richard Angraville, was born, as his name implies, at Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, in the year 1287.

Great attention was paid to the instruction of his youthful mind by his maternal uncle, John de Willowby, a priest, previous to his removal to Oxford. At the university he obtained honorable distinction, as much for his erudition and love of books as for the moral rectitude of his behavior. These pleasing traits were the stepping stones to his future greatness, and on the strength of them he was selected as one fully competent to undertake the education of Edward Prince of Wales, afterwards the third king of that name; and to Richard de Bury "may be traced the love for literature and the arts displayed by his pupil when on the throne. He was rewarded with the lucrative appointment of treasurer of Gascony."

When Edward, the prince of Wales, was sent to Paris to assume the dominion of Guienne, which the king had resigned in his favor, he was accompanied by queen Isabella, his mother, whose criminal frailty, and afterwards conspiracy, with Mortimer, aroused the just indignation of her royal husband; and commenced those civil dissensions which rendered the reign of Edward II so disastrous and turbulent. It was during these commotions that Richard de Bury became a zealous partisan of the queen, to whom he fled, and ventured to supply her pecuniary necessities from the royal revenues; for this, however, he was surrounded with imminent danger; for the king, instituting an inquiry into these proceedings, attempted his capture, which he narrowly escaped by secreting himself in the belfry of the convent of Brothers Minor at Paris.

When the "most invincible and most magnificent king" Edward III was firmly seated upon the throne, dignity and power was lavishly bestowed on this early bibliomaniac. In an almost incredible space of time he was appointed cofferer to the king, treasurer of the wardrobe, archdeacon of Northampton, prebendary of Lincoln, Sarum, Litchfield, and shortly afterwards keeper of the privy seal, which office he held for five years. During this time he twice undertook a visit to Italy, on a mission to the supreme pontiff, John XXII, who not only entertained him with honor and distinction, but appointed him chaplain to his principal chapel, and gave him a bull, nominating him to the first vacant see in England.

He acquired whilst there an honor which reflected more credit than even the smiles of his holiness—the brightest of the Italian poets, Petrarch of never dying fame—bestowed upon him his acquaintance and lasting friendship. De Bury entered Avignon for the first time in the same year that Petrarch took up his residence there, in the house of Colonna, bishop of Lombes: two such enlightened scholars and indefatigable book collectors, sojourning in the same city, soon formed an intimacy. How interesting must their friendly meetings have been, and how delightful the hours spent in Petrarch's library, which was one of great extent and rarity; and it is probable too that De Bury obtained from the poet a few treasures to enrich his own stores; for the generosity of Petrarch was so excessive, that he could scarcely withhold what he knew was so dearly coveted. His benevolence on one occasion deprived him and posterity of an inestimable volume; he lent some manuscripts of the classics to his old master, who, needing pecuniary aid, pawned them, and Cicero's books, De Gloria, were in this manner irrecoverably lost. Petrarch acted like a true lover of learning; for when the shadows of old age approached, he presented his library, full of rare and ancient manuscripts, many of them enriched by his own notes, to the Venetian Senate, and thus laid the foundation of the library of Saint-Marc; he always employed a number of transcribers, who invariably accompanied him on his journeys, and he kept horses to carry his books. His love of reading was intense. "Whether," he writes in one of his epistles, "I am being shaved, or having my hair cut, whether I am riding on horseback or taking my meals, I either read myself or get someone to read to me; on the table where I dine, and by the side of my bed, I have all the materials for writing". With the friendship of such a student, how charming must have been the visit of the English ambassador, and how much valuable and interesting information must he have gleaned by his intercourse with Petrarch and his books. At Rome Richard de Bury obtained many choice volumes and rare old manuscripts of the classics; for at Rome indeed, at that time, books had become an important article of commerce, and many foreign collectors besides the English bibliomaniac resorted there for these treasures: to such an extend was this carried on, that the jealousy of Petrarch was aroused, who, in addressing the Romans, exclaims: "Are you not ashamed that the wrecks of your ancient grandeur, spared by the inundation of the barbarians, are daily sold by your miscalculating avarice to foreigners? And that Rome is no where less known and less loved than at Rome?"

The immense ecclesiastical and civil revenues which Aungraville enjoyed, enabled him whilst in Italy to maintain a most costly and sumptuous establishment: in his last visit alone he is said to have expended 5,000 marks, and he never appeared in public without a numerous retinue of twenty clerks and thirty-six esquires; an appearance which better became the dignity of his civil office, than the Christian humility of his ecclesiastical functions. On his return from this distinguished sojourn, he was appointed, as we have said before, through the instrumentality of Edward III., to the bishopric of Durham. But not content with these high preferments, his royal master advanced him to still greater honor, and on the 28th of September, 1334, he was made Lord Chancellor of England, which office he filled till the 5th of June, 1335, when he exchanged it for that of high treasurer. He was twice appointed ambassador to the king of France, respecting the claims of Edward of England to the crown of that country. De Bury, whilst negotiating this affair, visited Antwerp and Brabant for the furtherance of the object of his mission, and he fully embraced this rare opportunity of adding to his literary stores, and returned to his fatherland well laden with many choice and costly manuscripts; for in all his perilous missions he carried about with him, as he tells us, that love of books which many waters could not extinguish, but which greatly sweetened the bitterness of peregrination. Whilst at Paris he was especially assiduous in collecting, and he relates with intense rapture, how many choice libraries he found there full of all kinds of books, which tempted him to spend his money freely; and with a gladsome heart he gave his dirty lucre for treasures so inestimable to the bibliomaniac.

Before the commencement of the war which arose from the disputed claims of Edward, Richard de Bury returned to enjoy in sweet seclusion his bibliomanical propensities. The modern bibliophiles who know what it is to revel in the enjoyment of a goodly library, luxuriant in costly bindings and rich in bibliographical rarities, who are fully susceptible to the delights and exquisite sensibilities of that sweet madness called bibliomania, will readily comprehend the multiplied pleasures of that early and illustrious bibliophile in the seclusion of Auckland Palace; he there ardently applied his energies and wealth to the accumulation of books; and whilst engaged in this pleasing avocation, let us endeavor to catch a glimpse of him. Chambre, to whom we are indebted for many of the above particulars, tells us that Richard de Bury was learned in the governing of his house, hospitable to strangers, of great charity, and fond of disputation with the learned, but he principally delighted in a multitude of books, Iste summe delectabatur multitudine librorum, and possessed more books than all the bishops put together, an assertion which requires some modification, and must not be too strictly regarded, for book collecting at that time was becoming a favorite pursuit; still the language of Chambre is expressive, and clearly proves how extensive must have been his libraries, one of which he formed in each of his various palaces, diversis maneriis. So engrossed was that worthy bishop with the passion of book collecting, that his dormitory was strewed with them, in every nook and corner choice volumes were scattered, so that it was almost impossible for any person to enter without placing his feet upon some book. He kept in regular employment no small assemblage of antiquaries, scribes, bookbinders, correctors, illuminators, and all such persons who were capable of being useful in the service of books, librorum servitiis utiliter.

During his retirement he wrote a book, from the perusal of which the bibliomaniac will obtain a full measure of delight and instruction. It is a faithful record of the life and experience of this bibliophile of the olden time. He tells us how he collected his vellum treasures—his "crackling tomes" so rich in illuminations and calligraphic art!—how he preserved them, and how he would have others read them. Costly indeed must have been the book gems he amassed together; for foreign countries, as well as the scribes at home, yielded ample means to augment his stores, and were incessantly employed in searching for rarities which his heart yearned to possess. He completed his Philobiblon at his palace at Auckland on the 24th of January, 1344.

We learn from the prologue to this rare and charming little volume how true and genuine a bibliomaniac was Richard de Bury, for he tells us there, that a vehement love of books had so powerfully seized all the faculties of his mind, that dismissing all other avocations, he had applied the ardor of his thoughts to the acquisition of books. Expense to him was quite an afterthought, and he begrudged no amount to possess a volume of rarity or antiquity. Wisdom, he says, is an infinite treasure, the value of which, in his opinion, was beyond all things; for how, he asks, can the sum be too great which purchases such vast delight. We cannot admire the purity of his Latin so much as the enthusiasm which pervades it; but in the eyes of the bibliophile this will amply compensate for his minor imperfections. When expatiating on the value of his books he appears to unbosom, as it were, all the inward rapture of love. A very helluo librorum—a very Maliabechi of a collector, yet he encouraged no selfish feeling to alloy his pleasure or to mingle bitterness with the sweets of his avocation. His knowledge he freely imparted to others, and his books he gladly lent. This is apparent in the Philobiblon; and his generous spirit warms his diction—not always chaste—into a fluent eloquence. His composition overflows with figurative expressions, yet the rude, ungainly form on which they are molded deprive them of all claim to elegance or chastity; but while the homeliness of his diction fails to impress us with an idea of his versatility as a writer, his chatty anecdotal style rivets and keeps the mind amused, so that we rise from the little book with the consciousness of having obtained much profit and satisfaction from its perusal. Nor is it only the bibliomaniac who may hope to taste this pleasure in devouring the sweet contents of the Philobiblon; for there are many hints, many wise sayings, and many singular ideas scattered over its pages, which will amuse or instruct the general reader and the lover of olden literature. We observe too that Richard de Bury, as a writer, was far in advance of his age, and his work manifests an unusual freedom and independence of mind in its author; for although living in monkish days, when the ecclesiastics were almost supreme in power and wealth, he was fully sensible of the vile corruptions and abominations which were spreading about that time so fearfully among some of the cloistered devotees—the spotless purity of the primitive times was scarce known then—and the dark periods of the middle ages were bright and holy, when compared with the looseness and carnality of those turbulent days. Richard de Bury dipped his pen in gall when he spoke of these sad things, and doubtless many a reveling monk winced under the lashing words he applied to them; not only does he upbraid them for their carelessness in religion, but severely reprimands their inattention to literature and learning. "The monks," he says, "in the present day seem to be occupied in emptying cups, not in correcting codices, Calicibus epotandis, non codicibus emendandis, which they mingle with the lascivious music of Timotheus, and emulate his immodest manners, so that the sportive song cantus ludentis, and not the plaintive hymn, proceeds from the cells of the monks. Flocks and fleeces, grain and granaries, gardens and olives, potions and goblets, are in this day lessons and studies of the monks, except some chosen few". He speaks in equally harsh terms of the religious mendicants. He accuses them of forgetting the words and admonitions of their holy founder, who was a great lover of books. He wishes them to imitate the ancient members of that fraternity, who were poor in spirit, but most rich in faith. But it must be remembered, that about this time the mendicant friars were treated with undeserved contempt, and much ill feeling rose against them among the clergy, but the clergy were somewhat prejudiced in their judgment. The order of St. Dominic, which a century before gloried in the approbation of the pope, and in the enjoyment of his potential bulls, now winced under gloomy and foreboding frowns. The sovereign Pontiff Honorius III gratefully embraced the service of these friars, and confirmed their order with important privileges. His successor, Gregory IX., ratified these favors to gain their useful aid in propping up the papal power, and commanded the ecclesiastics by a bull to receive these "well-beloved children and preaching friars" of his, with hospitality and respect. Thus established, they were able to bear the tossings to and fro which succeeding years produced; but in Richard de Bury's time darker clouds were gathering—great men had severely chastised them with their pens and denounced them in their preachings. Soon after a host of others sprang up—among the most remarkable of whom were Johannes Poliaco, and Fitzralph, Archbishop of Armagh, who was a dear friend and chaplain of Richard de Bury's and many learned disputations were carried on between them. The celebrated oration of Fitzralph's, cited in the presence of the pope, was a powerful blow to the mendicant friars—an examination of the matter has rather perplexed than cleared the subject, and I find it difficult which side to favor, the clergy seem to denounce the begging friars more from envy and interested motives, for they looked with extreme jealousy at the encroachments they had made upon their ecclesiastical functions of confession, absolution, etc., so profitable to the church in those days. In these matters the church had hitherto reserved a sole monopoly, and the clergy now determined to protect it with all the powers of oratorial denunciation; but, looking beyond this veil of prejudice, I am prone to regard them favorably, for their intense love of books, which they sought for and bought up with passionate eagerness. Fitzralph, quite unintentionally, bestows a bright compliment upon them, and as it bears upon our subject and illustrates the learning of the time, I am tempted to give a few extracts; he sorely laments the decrease of the number of students in the university of Oxford; "So," says he, "that yet in my tyme, in the universitie of Oxenford, were thirty thousand Scolers at ones; and now beth unnethe sixe thousand." All the blame of this he lays to the friars, and accuses them of doing "more grete damage to learning." "For these orders of beggers, for endeless wynnynges that thei geteth by beggyng of the forseide pryvyleges of schriftes and sepultures and othere, thei beth now so multiplyed in conventes and in persons. That many men tellith that in general studies unnethe, is it founde to sillynge a profitable book of ye faculte of art, of dyvynyte, of lawe canon, of phisik, other of lawe civil, but alle bookes beth y-bougt of Freres, so that en ech convent of Freres is a noble librarye and a grete, and so that ene rech Frere that hath state in scole, siche as thei beth nowe, hath an hughe librarye. And also y-sent of my Sugettes to scole thre other foure persons, and hit is said me that some of them beth come home azen for thei myst nougt finde to selle ovn goode Bible; nother othere couenable books." This strange accusation proves how industriously the friars collected books, and we cannot help regarding them with much esteem for doing so. Richard de Bury fully admits his obligations to the mendicants, from whom he obtained many choice transcripts. "When indeed," says he, "we happened to turn aside to the towns and places where the aforesaid paupers had convents, we were not slack in visiting their chests and other repositories of books, for there, amidst the deepest poverty, we found the most exalted riches treasured up; there, in their satchells and baskets, we discovered not only the crumbs that fell from the master's table for the little dogs, but indeed the show bread without leaven, the bread of angels, containing in itself all that is delectable;" and moreover, he says, that he found these friars "not selfish hoarders, but meet professors of enlightened knowledge."

In the seventh chapter of his work, he deplores the sad destruction of books by war and fire, and laments the loss of the 700,000 volumes, which happened in the Alexandrian expedition; but the eighth chapter is the one which the bibliomaniac will regard with the greatest interest, for Richard de Bury tells us there how he collected together his rich and ample library. "For although," he writes, "from our youth we have ever been delighted to hold special and social communion with literary men and lovers of books, yet prosperity attending us, having obtained the notice of his majesty the king, and being received into his own family, we acquired a most ample facility of visiting at pleasure and of hunting, as it were, some of the most delightful covers, the public and private libraries, both of the regulars and seculars. Indeed, while we performed the duties of Chancellor and Treasurer of the most invincible and ever magnificently triumphant king of England, Edward III, of that name after the conquest, whose days may the Most High long and tranquilly deign to preserve. After first inquiring into the things that concerned his court, and then the public affairs of his kingdom, an easy opening was afforded us, under the countenance of royal favor, for freely searching the hiding places of books. For the flying fame of our love had already spread in all directions, and it was reported not only that we had a longing desire for books, and especially for old ones, but that anyone could more easily obtain our favors by quartos than by money. Wherefore, when supported by the bounty of the aforesaid prince of worthy memory, we were enabled to oppose or advance, to appoint or discharge; crazy quartos and tottering folios, precious however in our sight as well as in our affections, flowed in most rapidly from the great and the small, instead of new year's gift and remunerations, and instead of presents and jewels. Then the cabinets of the most noble monasteries were opened, cases were unlocked, caskets were unclasped and sleeping volumes which had slumbered for long ages in their sepulchers were roused up, and those that lay hid in dark places were overwhelmed with the rays of a new light. Books heretofore most delicate now become corrupted and abominable, lay lifeless, covered indeed with the excrements of mice and pierced through with the gnawing of worms; and those that were formerly clothed with purple and fine linen were now seen reposing in dust and ashes, given over to oblivion and the abode of moths. Amongst these, nevertheless, as time served, we sat down more voluptuously than the delicate physician could do amidst his stores of aromatics, and where we found an object of love, we found also an assuagement. Thus the sacred vessel of science came into the power of our disposal, some being given, some sold, and not a few lent for a time. Without doubt many who perceived us to be contented with gifts of this kind, studied to contribute these things freely to our use, which they could most conveniently do without themselves. We took care, however, to conduct the business of such so favorably, that the profit might accrue to them; justice suffered therefore no detriment." Of this, however, a doubt will intrude itself upon our minds, in defiance of the affirmation of my Lord Chancellor; indeed, the paragraph altogether is unfavorable to the character of so great a man, and fully proves the laxity of opinion, in those days of monkish supremacy, on judicial matters; but we must be generous, and allow something for the corrupt usages of the age, but I cannot omit a circumstance clearly illustrative of this point, which occurred between the bibliomanical Chancellor and the abbot of St. Alban's, the affair is recorded in the chronicle of the abbey, and transpired during the time Richard de Bury held the privy seal; in that office he appears to have favored the monks of the abbey in their disputes with the townspeople of St. Alban's respecting some possessions to which the monks tenaciously adhered and defended as their rightful property. Richard de Wallingford, who was then abbot, convoked the elder monks, and discussed with them, as to the most effectual way to obtain the goodwill and favor of de Bury; after due consideration it was decided that no gift was likely to prove so acceptable to that father of English bibliomania as a present of some of their choice books, and it was at last agreed to send four volumes, "that is to say Terence, a Virgil, a Quintilian, and Jerome against Ruffinus," and to sell him many others from their library; this they sent him intimation of, and a purchase was ultimately agreed upon between them. The monks sold to that rare collector, thirty-two choice tomes triginta duos libros, for the sum of fifty pounds of silver. But there were other bibliophiles and bookworms than Richard de Bury in old England then; for many of the brothers of St. Alban's who had nothing to do with this transaction, cried out loudly against it, and denounced rather openly the policy of sacrificing their mental treasures for the acquisition of pecuniary gain, but fortunately the loss was only a temporary one, for on the death of Richard de Bury many of these volumes were restored to the monks, who in return became the purchasers from his executors of many a rare old volume from the bishop's library. To resume our extracts from the Philobiblon, De Bury proceeds to further particulars relative to his book-collecting career, and becomes quite eloquent in detailing these circumstances; but from the eighth chapter we shall content ourselves with one more paragraph. "Moreover," says he, "if we could have amassed cups of gold and silver, excellent horses, or no mean sums of money, we could in those days have laid up abundance of wealth for ourselves. But we regarded books not pounds, and valued codices more than florens, and preferred paltry pamphlets to pampered palfreys. In addition to this we were charged with frequent embassies of the said prince of everlasting memory, and owing to the multiplicity of state affairs, we were sent first to the Roman chair, then to the court of France, then to the various other kingdoms of the world, on tedious embassies and in perilous times, carrying about with us that fondness for books, which many waters could not extinguish." The booksellers found Richard de Bury a generous and profitable customer, and those residing abroad received commissions constantly from him. "Besides the opportunities," he writes, "already touched upon, we easily acquired the notice of the stationers and librarians, not only within the provinces of our native soil, but of those dispersed over the kingdoms of France, Germany, and Italy."

Such was bibliomania five hundred years ago! and does not the reader behold in it the very type and personification of its existence now? does he not see in Richard de Bury the prototype of a much honored and agreeable bibliophile of our own time? Nor has the renowned "Maister Dibdin" described his book-hunting tours with more enthusiasm or delight; with what a thrill of rapture would that worthy doctor have explored those monastic treasures which De Bury found hid in dark places “locis tenebrosis”, antique Bibles, rare Fathers, rich Classics or gems of monkish lore, enough to fire the brain of the most lymphatic bibliophile, were within the grasp of the industrious and eager Richard de Bury—that old "Amator Librorum," like his imitators of the present day, cared not whither he went to collect his books—dust and dirt were no barriers to him; at every nook and corner where a stationer's stall appeared, he would doubtless tarry in defiance of the cold winds or scorching sun, exploring the ancient tomes reposing there. Nor did he neglect the houses of the country rectors; and even the humble habitations of the rustics were diligently ransacked to increase his collections, and from these sources he gleaned many rude but pleasing volumes, perhaps full of old popular poetry! or the wild Romances of Chivalry which enlivened the halls and cots of our forefathers in Gothic days.

We must not overlook the fact that this Treatise on the Love of Books was written as an accompaniment to a noble and generous gift. Many of the parchment volumes which De Bury had collected in his "perilous embassies," he gave, with the spirit of a true lover of learning, to the Durham College at Oxford, for the use of the Students of his Church. I cannot but regret that the names of these books, of which he had made a catalogue, have not been preserved; perhaps the document may yet be discovered among the vast collections of manuscripts in the Oxonian libraries; but the book, being written for this purpose, the author thought it consistent that full directions should be given for the preservation and regulation of the library, and we find the last chapter devoted to this matter; but we must not close the Philobiblon without noticing his admonitions to the students, some of whom he upbraids for the carelessness and disrespect which they manifest in perusing books. "Let there," says he, with all the veneration of a passionate booklover, "be a modest decorum in opening and closing of volumes, that they may neither be unclasped with precipitous haste, nor thrown aside after inspection without being duly closed." Loving and venerating a book as De Bury did, it was agony to see a volume suffering under the indignities of the ignorant or thoughtless student whom he thus keenly satirizes: "You will perhaps see a stiff-necked youth lounging sluggishly in his study, while the frost pinches him in winter time; oppressed with cold his watery nose drops, nor does he take the trouble to wipe it with his handkerchief till it has moistened the book beneath it with its vile dew;" nor is he "ashamed to eat fruit and cheese over an open book, or to transfer his empty cup from side to side; he reclines his elbow on the volume, turns down the leaves, and puts bits of straw to denote the place he is reading; he stuffs the book with leaves and flowers, and so pollutes it with filth and dust." With this our extracts from the Philobiblon must close; enough has been said and transcribed to place the Lord Chancellor of the puissant King Edward III among the foremost of the bibliomaniacs of the past, and to show how valuable were his efforts to literature and learning; indeed, like Petrarch in Italy was Richard De Bury in England: both enthusiastic collectors and preservers of ancient manuscripts, and both pioneers of that revival of European literature which soon afterwards followed. In the fourteenth century we cannot imagine a more useful or more essential person than the bibliomaniac, for that surely was the harvest day for the gathering in of that food on which the mind of future generations were to subsist. And who reaped so laboriously or gleaned so carefully as those two illustrious scholars?

Richard de Bury was no unsocial bookworm; for whilst he loved to seek the intercourse of the learned dead, he was far from being regardless of the living. Next to his clasped vellum tomes, nothing afforded him so much delight as an erudite disputation with his chaplains, who were mostly men of acknowledged learning and talent; among them were "Thomas Bradwardyn, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury; and Richard Fitz-Raufe, afterwards Archbishop of Armagh; Walter Burley, John Maudyt, Robert Holcote, Richard of Kilwington, all Doctors in Theology, omnes Doctores in Theologia; Richard Benworth, afterwards Bishop of London, and Walter Segraffe, afterwards Bishop of Chester;" with these congenial spirits Richard de Bury held long and pleasing conversations, doubtless full of old bookwisdom and quaint Gothic lore, derived from still quainter volumes; and after meals I dare say they discussed the choice volume which had been read during their repast, as was the pious custom of those old days, and which was not neglected by De Bury, for "his manner was at dinner and supper time to have some good booke read unto him."

And now in bidding farewell to the illustrious Aungraville—for little more is known of his biography—let me not forget to pay a passing tribute of respect to his private character, which is right worthy of a cherished remembrance, and derives its principal lustre from the eminent degree in which he was endowed with the greatest of Christian virtues, and which, when practiced with sincerity, covereth a multitude of sins; his charity, indeed, forms a delightful trait in the character of that great man; every week he distributed food to the poor; eight quarters of wheat octo quarteria frumenti, and the fragments from his own table comforted the indigent of his church; and always when he journeyed from Newcastle to Durham, he distributed twelve marks in relieving the distresses of the poor; from Durham to Stockton eight marks; and from the same place to his palace at Aukeland five marks; and and when he rode from Durham to Middleham he gave away one hundred shillings. Living in troublous times, we do not find his name coupled with any great achievement in the political sphere; his talents were not the most propitious for a statesman among the fierce barons of the fourteenth century; his spirit loved converse with the departed great, and shone more to advantage in the quite closet of the bibliomaniac, or in fulfilling the benevolent duties of a bishop. Yet he was successful in all that the ambition of a statesman could desire, the friend and confidant of his king; holding the highest offices in the state compatible with his ecclesiastical position, with wealth in abundance, and blessed with the friendship of the learned and the good, we find little in his earthly career to darken the current of his existence, or to disturb the last hours of a life of near three score years. He died lamented, honored, and esteemed, at Aukeland palace, on the fourteenth of April, in the year 1345, in the fifty-eighth year of his age, and was buried with all due solemnity before the altar of the blessed Mary Magdalene, at the south angle of the church of Durham. His bones are now mingled with the dust and gone, but his memory is engraven on tablets of life; the hearts of all bibliomaniacs love and esteem his name for the many virtues with which it was adorned, and delight to chat with his choice old spirit in the Philobiblon, so congenial to their bookish souls. No doubt the illustrious example of Richard de Bury tended materially to spread far and wide the spirit of bibliomania. It certainly operated powerfully on the monks of Durham, who not only by transcribing, but at the cost of considerable sums of money, greatly increased their library. A catalogue of the collection, taken some forty years after the death of De Bury, is preserved to this day at Durham, and shows how considerably they augmented it during a space of two hundred years, or from the time when the former list was written. If the bibliomaniac can obtain a sight of this ancient catalogue, he will dwell over it with astonishment and delight—immaculate volumes of Scripture—fathers and classics bespeak its richness and extent, and Robert of Lanchester, the librarian who wrote it, with pious preference places first on the list the magnificent Bible which bishop Hugo gave them many years before. This rare biblical treasure, then the pride and glory of the collection, is now in the Durham Library; but to look upon that fair manuscript will make the blood run cold—barbarous desecration has been committed by some bibliopegistical hand; the splendid illuminations so rich and spirited, which adorned the beauteous tomes, dazzled an ignorant mind, who cut them out and robbed it of half its interest and value.

From near 600 volumes which the list enumerates, I cannot refrain from naming two or three. I have searched over its biblical department in vain to discover mention of the celebrated "Saint Cuthbert's Gospels." It is surprising they should have forgotten so rich a gem, for although four copies of the Gospels appear, not one of them answers to its description; two are specified as "non glos;" it could not have been either of those, another, the most interesting of the whole, is recorded as the venerable Bede's own copy! What bibliophile can look unmoved upon those time-honored pages, without indeed all the warmth of his booklove kindling forth into a very frenzy of rapture and veneration! So fairly written, and so accurately transcribed, it is one of the most precious of the many gems which now crowd the shelves of the Durham Library, and is well worth a pilgrimage to view it. But this cannot be St. Cuthbert's Gospels, and the remaining copy is mentioned as "Quarteur Evangelum," fol. ii. "se levantem;" now I have looked at the splendid volume in the British Museum, to see if the catchword answered to this description, but it does not; so it cannot be this, which I might have imagined without the trouble of a research, for if it was, they surely would not have forgotten to mention its celebrated coopertoria.

Passing a splendid array of Scriptures whole and in parts, for there was no paucity of sacred volumes in that old monkish library, and fathers, doctors of the Church, schoolmen, lives of saints, chronicles, profane writers, philosophical and logical treatises, medical works, grammars, and books of devotion, we are particularly struck with the appearance of so many fine classical authors. Works of Virgil (including the Æneid), Pompeius Trogus, Claudius, Juvenal, Terence, Ovid, Prudentius, Quintilian, Cicero, Bœthius, and a host of others are in abundance, and form a catalogue rendered doubly exciting to the bibliophile by the insertion of an occasional note, which tells of its antiquity, rarity, or value. In some of the volumes a curious inscription was inserted, thundering a curse upon any who would dare to pilfer it from the library, and for so sacrilegious a crime, calling down upon them the maledictions of Saints Maria, Oswald, Cuthbert, and Benedict. A volume containing the lives of St. Cuthbert, St. Oswald, and St. Aydani, is described as "Liber speciales et preciosus cum signaculo deaurato."

Thomas Langley, who was chancellor of England and bishop of Durham in the year 1406, collected many choice books, and left some of them to the library of Durham church; among them a copy of Lyra's Commentaries stands conspicuous; he also bequeathed a number of volumes to many of his private friends.

There are few monastic libraries whose progress we can trace with so much satisfaction as the one now under consideration, for we have another catalogue compiled during the librarianship of John Tyshbourne, in the year 1416, in which many errors appearing in the former ones are carefully corrected; books which subsequent to that time had been lost or stolen are here accounted for; many had been sent to the students at Oxford, and others have notes appended, implying to whom the volume had been lent; thus to a "Flores Bernardi," occurs "Prior debit, I Kempe Episcopi Londoni." It is, next to Monk Henry's of Canterbury, one of the best of all the monkish catalogues I have seen; not so much for its extent, as that here and there it fully partakes of the character of a catalogue raisonné; for terse sentences are affixed to some of the more remarkable volumes, briefly descriptive of their value; a circumstance seldom observable in these early attempts at bibliography.

In taking leave of Durham library, need I say that the bibliomaniacs who flourished there in the olden time, not only collected their books with so much industry, but knew well how to use them too. The reader is doubtless aware how many learned men dwelled in monkish time within those ancient walls; and if he is inquisitive about such things has often enjoyed a few hours of pleasant chat over the historic pages of Symeon of Durham, Turgot and Wessington, and has often heard of brothers Lawrence, Reginald, and Bolton; but although unheeded now, many a monkish bookworm, glorying in the strict observance of Christian humility, and so unknown to fame, lies buried beneath that splendid edifice, as many monuments and funeral tablets testify and speak in high favor of the great men of Durham. If the reader should perchance to wander near that place, his eye will be attracted by many of these memorials of the dead; and a few hours spent in exploring them will serve to gain many additional facts to his antiquarian lore, and perhaps even something better too. For I know not a more suitable place, as far as outward circumstances are concerned, than an old sanctuary of God to prepare the mind and lead it to think of death and immortality. We read the names of great men long gone; of wealthy worldlings, whose fortunes have long been spent; of ambitious statesmen and doughty warriors, whose glory is fast fading as their costly mausoleums crumble in the hands of time, and whose stone tablets, green with the lichens' hue, manifest how futile it is to hope to gain immortality from stone, or purchase fame by the cold marble trophies of pompous grief; not that on their glassy surface the truth is always faithfully mirrored forth, even when the thoughts of holy men composed the eulogy; the tombs of old knew as well how to lie as now, and even ascetic monks could become too warm in their praises of departed worth; for whilst they blamed the great man living, with Christian charity they thought only of his virtues when they had nothing but his body left, and murmured long prayers, said tedious masses, and kept midnight vigils for his soul. For had he not shown his love to God by his munificence to His Church on earth? Benedicite, saith the monks.