University of Virginia Library

6. § VI

What was the extent of circulation of books during the manuscript age? For the period before the Conquest we can only offer the merest conjecture, which does not help us materially. The rarity of the extant manuscripts of this age is no guide to the extent of their production. During the raids of the northmen the destruction and loss must have been very great indeed. After the Conquest the indifference and contempt with which the conquerors regarded everything Saxon must have been responsible for the destruction of nearly every manuscript written in the vernacular. But, on the other hand, we find suggestions of a greater production than is commonly credited to this period. Religious fervour to make books was not wanting, as some of our most beautiful relics—works exhibiting much painstaking and skilful and even loving labour, calligraphy, and decoration aflame with high endeavour— belong to the Hiberno-Saxon period and the days of Ethelwold. Nor after Alfred's day was regard lacking for vernacular literature itself rather than for the glory of a faith: how else are we to explain the precious fragments of Anglo-Saxon manuscript which have been preserved for us, especially the Exeter book and the Vercelli book? That the production was considerable is suggested by the records we have. Think of the Irish manuscripts now scattered

on the continent; of the library of York; of Bede's workshop and the northern libraries; and of those in the south, at Canterbury, Malmesbury, and elsewhere. But the use of such manuscripts as were in existence was restricted to monks, wealthy ecclesiastics, and a few of the wealthy laity.

After the Conquest the state of affairs was the same. The period of the greatest literary activity in the monasteries now began, and large claustral libraries were soon formed. The monks then had plenty of books; wealthy clergy also had small collections. An ecclesiastic or a layman who had done a monastery some service, or whose favour it was politic to cultivate, could borrow books from the monastic library, under certain strict conditions. Some people availed themselves of this privilege; but not at any time during the manuscript period to a great extent.[11.51]

Outside this small circle the people were almost bookless: nearly the whole of the literary wealth of the Middle Ages belonged to the monks and the church. Books were extremely costly. The medieval book-buyer paid more for his book on an average than does the modern collector of first editions and editions de luxe, who pays in addition several guineas a volume for handsome bindings. The prices we have tabulated will fully bear out this statement. But even more striking evidence of the high value set upon books is the care taken in selling or bequeathing them. To-day a line or two in a wealthy man's will disposes of all his books. He commonly throws them in with the "residue," unmentioned. In the manuscript age a testator distributed his little hoard book by book. Often he not only bequeaths a volume to a friend, but determines its fate after his friend's death. For example, a daughter is to have a copy of the Golden Legend, "and to occupye to hir

owne use and at hir owne liberte durynge hur lyfe, and after hur decesse to remayne to the prioress and the convent of Halywelle for evermore, they to pray for the said John Burton and Johne his wife and alle crystene soyles (1460)."[11.52] A manuscript now in Worcester Cathedral Library bears an inscription telling us that, likewise, one Thomas Jolyffe left it to Dr. Isack, a monk of Worcester, for his lifetime, and after his death to Worcester Priory. A manuscript now in the British Museum was bought in 1473 at Oxford by Clement of Canterbury, monk and scholar, from a bookseller named Hunt for twenty shillings, in the presence of Will. Westgate, monk.[11.53] In a manuscript of the Sentences is a note telling us that it was the property of Roger, archdeacon of Lincoln: he bought it from Geoffrey the chaplain, the brother of Henry, vicar of North Elkington, the witnesses being master Robert de Luda, clerk, Richard the almoner, the said Henry the vicar, his

[Description: RECORD OF SALE OF BOOK CAPTURED AT POITIERS (see p. 247)]

clerk, and others.[11.54] An instance of a different kind will suffice. When, after a good deal of rioting at Oxford, many of the more studious masters and scholars went to Stamford, the king threatened that if they did not return to Oxford they would lose their goods, and especially their books. The warning was disregarded, but the threatened forfeiture of their books was evidently thought to be a strong measure.[11.55]

In his poems Chaucer endows two poor clerks with small libraries. His first portrait of an Oxford clerk is delightful—

Almost equally pleasing is his picture of another who lived with a rich churl—

Both descriptions have been used as evidence that books were not so scarce as supposed; that poor people could get books if they specially needed them. But are these pictures quite true? Has not the poet taken advantage of the licence allowed to his kind? The records preserved at Oxford do not corroborate him. Some of the students were very poor. It seems likely that a would-be clerk attached himself to a master or scholar as a servant in return for teaching in the "kunnyng of writyng" and perhaps other knowledge—

Mr. Anstey points out that a very large number, probably the majority of scholars, were not well provided for. They eked out their precarious allowances by begging, by learning handicrafts, and by "picking up the various doles at funerals and commemoration masses, where such needy miserables were always to be found." [11.57] Such students would not be likely to have many or perhaps any books. "The stock of books possessed by the younger scholars seems to have been almost nil. The inventories of goods, which we possess, in the case of non-graduates contain hardly any books. The fact is that they mostly could not afford to buy them.... The chief source of supplying books was by purchase from the University sworn stationers, who had to a great extent a monopoly, the object of which was to

prevent the sale and removal from Oxford of valuable books. Of such books there were plainly very large numbers constantly changing hands; they were the pledges so continually deposited on borrowing from chests, and seem, from scattered hints, to have been a very fruitful source of litigation and dispute."[11.58] Most of these books were in the hands of seniors. Truly enough many a poor clerk would as lief have twenty "bokes" to his name as anything else treble the value. But he would undergo much sharp self-denial and receive much "wherewith to scoleye" ere he got together so considerable a collection of "bokes grete and smale," to say nothing of instruments. As such a large proportion of the scholars were poor, and unable to acquire books, nearly all the instruction given was oral. Well-to-do scholars would not find, therefore, books of very great service; and indeed they were as ill-equipped in this respect as their poorer brethren. The accounts of the La Fytes, two scholars whose expenses were paid by Edward I himself, contain records of the purchase of two copies of only the Institutions of Quintilian (c. 1290). [11.59] Is not Chaucer describing his own room in both passages—the room he loved to seek after his day's work at the desk? Here at the bedhead are his books, including the astronomical treatise of Ptolemy called Almagest. Beside them is the astrolabe, an instrument about which he wrote; and trimly arranged apart his augrim-stones, or counters for making calculations. Such an outfit we might expect him to have: just such a library, neither smaller nor larger.

This supposition calls to mind another argument sometimes used to prove how easy it was to make a small collection of books. Chaucer's poems display his acquaintance, more or less thoroughly, with many authors. Surely,

it is urged, his library was a good one for the time: then how was it possible for a man of his means to own such? He was not wealthy. As a courtier and a public officer the calls upon his purse must have been heavy: little indeed could be left for books. The explanation is probably simple. Books were freely lent, more freely than nowadays; and Chaucer would be able to eke out his library in this way. Another point is important. Professor Lounsbury, who has spent years in an exhaustive study of Chaucer, points out a curious circumstance. "It must be confessed," he says—a shade of disparagement lurks in the phrase—"it must be confessed that Chaucer's quotations from writers exhibit a familiarity with prologues and first books and early chapters which contrasts ominously with the comparative infrequency with which he makes citations from the middle and latter parts of most of the works he mentions."[11.60] Surely the implication is unjust. Stationers used to let out on hire parts of books or quires. Manuscript volumes were also often made up of parts of works by several authors. Books being scarce, it was preferable to make some volumes select miscellanies, little libraries in themselves. Hear Chaucer himself—

In composite volumes often only the earlier parts of authors' works were included. If Chaucer owned a few

books of this kind, his familiarity with parts of authors— and oftenest with the earlier parts—is accounted for satisfactorily; so also is the range and variety of his reading. Examine the Christ Church Canterbury catalogue in Henry Eastry's time, and note what a remarkable variety of subjects is comprised in what we nowadays consider rather a paltry number of books. There is another point worth bearing in mind. Speaking of Bishop Shirwood's books, a writer in the English Historical Review says: "Many of the books bear his mark, Nota, scattered over the margins, or a hand with a long pointing finger. These notes occur usually at the beginnings. In the days when chapters and sections were unknown and division into books rare, when headlines were not and pages sometimes had no signatures even, not to speak of numbers, a reader had to go solidly through a book, and could not lightly turn up a passage he wished for, by the aid of a reference. But except in Cicero and in Plutarch—which is read almost from beginning to end—the marks do not often go far. Shirwood was doubtless too busy to find much time for reading, and before he had made much way with a book a new purchase had come to arouse his interest." [11.62]

But to the general rule of scarcity of books some exceptions are known. When a book won a reputation, the cost of producing copies was not wholly restrictive of circulation. Copies of some works of the Fathers were produced in great numbers. The Bible, whole or in part, was copied with such industry that it became the commonest of manuscripts, as it now is the commonest of printed books. Peter Lombard's Sentences became a famous book: the standard of the schools; everywhere to be found side by side with the Bible, everywhere discussed and commented

upon. A twelfth century author of quite different character had a good hold upon the people; the number of copies of Geoffrey of Monmouth must have been considerable, for the British Museum now has thirty-five copies and Bodley's Library sixteen. "Possibly, no work before the age of printed books attained such immediate and astonishing popularity . . . translations, adaptations, and continuations of it formed one of the staple exercises of a host of medieval scribes." [11.63] A glance at the monastic and academic library catalogues of later date than mid-thirteenth century will prove more clearly than a shelf full of books how enormous was the influence of Aristotle. If such a collocation as the Bible and Shakspere sums up the present-day Englishman's ideals of spiritual sustenance and literary power, a similar collocation of the Bible and Aristotle would sum up, with a greater approach to truth, the ideals of the medieval schoolman. Popularity fell to Piers Plowman. Apart from the large currency given to it by ballad singers, many manuscripts were in existence, for even now forty-five of them, more or less complete, remain. As M. Jusserand aptly remarks: "This figure is the more remarkable when we consider that, contrary to works written in Latin or in French, Langland's book was not copied and preserved outside his own country."[11.64] Again, but a few years after the writing of the Canterbury Tales, a copy of it was bequeathed, among other books, by a clerk named Richard Sotheworth of East Hendred, Berks (1417).[11.65] The impression is left upon one's mind that this work had found its way quickly and in many copies into country places.

But as only a few books had a comparatively large circulation, these few had a disproportionately powerful

influence. The Bible was paramount. Aristotle dominated the whole mental horizon of the schoolmen. Alfred of Beverley tells us that Geoffrey of Monmouth's book "was so universally talked of that to confess ignorance of its stories was the mark of a clown." [11.66] So great was the influence of Piers Plowman, that from it were taken watchwords at the great rising of the peasants.[11.67] The power of such works could not be wholly hemmed in by the barrier of manuscript: like a spring torrent it would burst forth and carry all before it. In the manuscript period a book of great originality and power, or a work which reproduced the thought of the time accurately and with spirit, ran no great risk of being passed over and forgotten; too little was produced for much that was good to be lost. It was copied once and again; became very slowly but very surely known to a few, then to many; and all the time waxed more and more influential in its teaching. The growth was slow, but then the lifetime was long. Now the chance of a good book going astray is much greater What watcher of the great procession of modern books does not fear that something supremely fine and great has passed unobserved in the huge, motley crowd?