but the Saint said, 'When
you have got a psalter, then you'll want a breviary, and when you have
got a breviary you will sit in a chair as great as a lord, and will say
to some brother, Friar! go and fetch me my breviary!' And he laid ashes
on his head, and repeated, 'I am your breviary! I am your breviary!' till
the novice was dumbfounded and amazed; and then again the Saint said that
he also had once been tempted to possess books, and he almost yielded to
the request, but decided in the end that such yielding would be sinful.
He hoped that the day would come when men would throw their books out of
the window as rubbish.
A curious change took place when the Mendicants got control of the
schools. It was absolutely necessary that they should be the devourers of
books if they were to become the monopolists of learning. In the century
following their arrival, Fitz-Ralph, the Archbishop of Armagh, complained
that his chaplains could not buy any books at Oxford, because they were
all snapped up by the men of the cord and cowl: 'Every brother who keeps
a school has a huge collection, and in each Convent of Freres is a great
and noble library.' The Grey Friars certainly had two houses full of
books in School Street, and their brothers in London had a good library,
which was in later times increased and richly endowed by Sir Richard
Whittington, the book-loving Lord Mayor of London.
There were some complaints that the Friars cared too much for the
contents and too little for the condition of their volumes. The
Carmelites, who arrived in England after the two greater Orders, had the
reputation of being careful librarians, 'anxiously protecting their books
against dust and worms,' and ranging the manuscripts in their large room
at Oxford at first in chests and afterwards in book-cases. The
Franciscans were too ready to give and sell, to lend and spend, the
volumes that they were so keen to acquire. A Dominican was always drawn
with a book in his hand; but he would care nothing for it, if it
contained no secrets of science. Richard de Bury had much to say about
the Friars in that treatise on the love of books, 'which he fondly named
Philobiblon,' being a commendation of Wisdom and of the books wherein she
dwells. The Friars, he said, had preserved the ancient stores of
learning, and were always ready to procure the last sermon from Rome or
the newest pamphlet from Oxford. When he visited their houses in the
country-towns, and
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