Many books
/'Of the making of many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh'. and the man who wrote that hadn't seen the multiplicity of books and booksellers that mark our own time! What would he say today?
In his day, though he felt burdened by the out-pourings of the clever and opinionated, books were a relatively rare commodity. A decent library might have a dozen or so.
These, of course, were treasured and revered - and read till they were known virtually off by heart (as was, for example, the bible. People got into things properly in those days).
And still, many hundreds of years later, when Lord William occupied this part of Britain and put the Frenchman Gundulph in to re-found Augustine's abbey here, there were scarcely more. Only after the invention of printing, and, even more, with the falling of publishing into the hands of competitive capitalism have books become two a penny - which is why they cost so much. (Is it instructive we talk of book cases? A case is a box or crate: shelves came in much later when numbers exploded).
Perhaps, given this growth, the author of Ecclesiastes might have approved the kind of library you will find tucked away in the south east corner of the cathedral. From Gundulph onwards, and still, major works of theology have been collected and stored so that monks (then) and ministers (now) may avail themselves of scholarship quite bevond the means of their individual pockets, to assist them in their prayer, preaching and pastoring. That's what the library was and is for: and in one of the books we possess, a Benedictine writer has made just this connection: 'The Love of Learning and the Desire for God' U. Leclercq).
Regular reading and sacred study have always been part of the life of a (Benedictine) monk. The Rule of St. Benedict lays down (chapter 48) that each monk shall study every morning, and that at the start of Lent be given a chosen library book for this purpose. The library, therefore, occupied a key place in the cycle of devotion, and played its part in the conversion of the individual.
At one time, monasteries were the only places to keep the faith in any intelligent and informed way. Later that role passed to the universities (which reflected other monastic values too). Now, with the continuing secularisation of our universities and in a manner exacerbated by the intense pressure of contemporary notions of usefulness and accountability, the torch is passing back to the church. Maybe before long, theological colleges and religious houses will again become the only beacons for Christian teaching, training and mission, as they were before.
If so, a cathedral library like our own will come back into its own. A resource to ground prayer, preaching and pastoring, those hall marks of the Christian life, in orthodoxy: that is, accurately and in truth, for the proper glory of God. So it is crucial that part of the Cathedral budget (a tiny part, it's true) goes for the purchase of 'classics' in theology and related subjects, which are then made available to clergy and others, serious disciples of their faith.
'Classic' is hard to define, and harder to discern these days under the whelter of books being published. Books much-hailed at the time get quickly forgotten, whilst major contributions to theology quickly go out of print. But the names of this century -
Barth,
Bonhoeffer, Bultmann... are placed alongside those of the saints from the past - Anselm, Aquinas, Augustine... And if in 50 year's time we run out of space (as we certainly shall - we nearly have already!) those who no longer ring bells can be weeded out and shifted to depositories elsewhere. (We have just presented a batch of books to the University Library at Canterbury).
The library has been housed in the Chapter Room since 1542. It is tucked away behind a massive doorway - a famous monument, and you can see it though not walk throughit, as here) in the V and A. Few walk through it here, alas, for whatever reason. Perhaps the doorway is forbidding as well as famous? But the clergy live pressed and pre-occupied lives and unless they have some project to spur them on rarely read 'classics' these days. (Is this one reason why the standard of preaching generally is so low?).
Half the room consists of books published before 1900. Many of these are justly famous and number among them echoes of the library collected by Gundulph. The earliest known catalogue (which we still possess) is dated about 1130 and lists 116 titles. (The present catalogue has around 6,000 entries). Nearly all those early books were lost. borrowed or stolen during the Reformation and Commonwealth times. People often fail to return books they borrow from friends; but at that time a few astute persons, seeing the way the wind was blowing, 'borrowed' books in order to keep them from destruction. So although in one way they did the nation a good turn, in another they helped denude our own collection.
Many of our rescued' volumes are in the British Library in London; some are in Oxbridge colleges. But our saddest loss must surely be the bible given to the library by Gundulph himself. It rests now in California - the chain of buying and selling so long that it would be cruel to accuse the present holder of receiving stolen goods, notwithstanding the anathema on thieves written in the front.
We do still possess a number of treasures, however; and among them a number of important and famous versions of the Bible. For example, we have a bible published in 1522, which sets out side by side the text in Greek, Latin and Hebrew. It was prepared by Cardinal Ximenes in Spain and is known as the Complutensian Bible (from Complutum, the Latin name of Alcala in Spain where it was printed).
We also have one of the 50 known copies of Coverdale's Bible (1535) which was the first version of the whole bible to appear in English. Coverdale .
In 1539 Henry VIll ordered an English bible to be set up in each church, and we have a copy of 'The Great Bible' (so called because of its size) which was authorised for this purpose.
On the liturgical side, we have an important Missal (Mass Book) dated 1534, and a 'sealed' (i.e. authorised and standard) copy of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer.
As well as printed books, the library possesses certain important manuscripts. Most famous amongst these is the Textus Roffensis(the Rochester Book) which has come down to us despite various alarming adventures (which include being dropped in the Thames in
1712 - the water marks are still clearly visible). It was put together around 1300, but contains much older material. It is a miscellaneous collection of bits and pieces, really, of great interest and important to scholars: lists of the laws of Kentish kings and of important people, rituals of testing by ordeal, registers of ancient documents of local history, charters, and so on. It is written partly in Anglo-Saxon, partly in Latin.
There is also the Custumale Roffense also dating from about 1300. This is a description of everyday life in the monastery of the time, duties, work and services, relations with manors and lands supplying income, and so on.
(A more complete list of treasures, and of the stories associated with them, is set out in Rochester Cathedral Library by one of my predecessors, Canon Mackean. It is available from the gift stall).
Preserving old manuscripts is a delicate and demanding task. They need specialist (and expensive) care. For this reason, it makes sense that most of the Cathedral's archives are now lodged in the County Archive Department in Maidstone - though they may soon be brought "home' to the new Archive at the end of the bridge, in Strood.
However, although these manuscripts are away, the library does include a fascinating collection of prints and photographs - many hundreds of them. These are being catalogued at present for the first time and I hope we shall soon know what we have? (Anyone who thinks he or she could help by identifying some old views of Rochester and its personalities, please get in touch).
A library such as this requires conservation and maintenance. One of the happiest things to record with gratitude is that a band of 20 or so volunteers are busy cleaning, and healing the old books: patiently dusting, washing, wiping, oiling and sealing. They sense, I believe justly, the importance of their work in helping to pass on a resource which has come down to us through the care and devotion of others. Many books, however, their leather dried and torn, need more specialist help. Slowly, as funds become available, these will be sent away to be repaired: it is part of our stewardship to see they too are still available to readers in the future.
I should like to end on a personal note. Since arriving in Rochester, getting to know the library has been one of my chief joys. I still am in the wonderful position of 'discovering fresh treats just about every time I go in! For this reason what I have written here may seem to some - such as my immediate and illustrious predecessor - to have a very uninformed ring about it. But I hope in another year or so to have a better grasp of what I have been charged with storing on our bookshelves for the benefit of generations yet to come.
John Armson
Canon Librarian
The Friends of Rochester Cathedral were founded to help finance the maintenance of the fabric and grounds. The Friends’ annual reports have become a trove of articles on the fabric and history of the cathedral.
Explore more exceptional items in the Chapter Library collection from medieval manuscripts to 19th-century photographs.
