The Love of Books: The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury — A Closer Reading
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For The Love of Books: The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury — A Closer Reading, the stored edition analysis reports 28,045 words, 2 hr 2 min estimated reading time, and 4 detected text sections.
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Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Book collecting,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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Happy was that translation of books which Xerxes is said to have made to Persia from Athens, and which Seleucus brought back again from Persia to Athens. O glad and joyful return! O wondrous joy, which you might then see in Athens, when the mother went in triumph to meet her progeny, and again showed the chambers in which they had been nursed to her now aging children! Their old homes were restored to their former inmates, and forthwith boards of cedar with shelves and beams of gopher wood are most skilfully planed; inscriptions of gold and ivory are designed for the several compartments, to which the volumes themselves are reverently brought and pleasantly arranged, so that no one hinders the entrance of another or injures its brother by excessive crowding.
But in truth infinite are the losses which have been inflicted upon the race of books by wars and tumults. And as it is by no means possible to enumerate and survey infinity, we will here finally set up the Gades of our complaint, and turn again to the prayers with which we began, humbly imploring that the Ruler of Olympus and the Most High Governor of all the world will establish peace and dispel wars and make our days tranquil under His protection.
OF THE NUMEROUS OPPORTUNITIES WE HAVE HAD OF COLLECTING A STORE OF BOOKS
Since to everything there is a season and an opportunity, as the wise Ecclesiastes witnesseth, let us now proceed to relate the manifold opportunities through which we have been assisted by the divine goodness in the acquisition of books.
Although from our youth upwards we had always delighted in holding social commune with learned men and lovers of books, yet when we prospered in the world and made acquaintance with the King's majesty and were received into his household, we obtained ampler facilities for visiting everywhere as we would, and of hunting as it were certain most choice preserves, libraries private as well as public, and of the regular as well as of the secular clergy. And indeed while we filled various offices to the victorious Prince and splendidly triumphant King of England, Edward the Third from the Conquest--whose reign may the Almighty long and peacefully continue--first those about his court, but then those concerning the public affairs of his kingdom, namely the offices of Chancellor and Treasurer, there was afforded to us, in consideration of the royal favour, easy access for the purpose of freely searching the retreats of books. In fact, the fame of our love of them had been soon winged abroad everywhere, and we were reported to burn with such desire for books, and especially old ones, that it was more easy for any man to gain our favour by means of books than of money. Wherefore, since supported by the goodness of the aforesaid prince of worthy memory, we were able to requite a man well or ill, to benefit or injure mightily great as well as small, there flowed in, instead of presents and guerdons, and instead of gifts and jewels, soiled tracts and battered codices, gladsome alike to our eye and heart. Then the aumbries of the most famous monasteries were thrown open, cases were unlocked and caskets were undone, and volumes that had slumbered through long ages in their tombs wake up and are astonished, and those that had lain hidden in dark places are bathed in the ray of unwonted light. These long lifeless books, once most dainty, but now become corrupt and loathsome, covered with litters of mice and pierced with the gnawings of the worms, and who were once clothed in purple and fine linen, now lying in sackcloth and ashes, given up to oblivion, seemed to have become habitations of the moth. Natheless among these, seizing the opportunity, we would sit down with more delight than a fastidious physician among his stores of gums and spices, and there we found the object and the stimulus of our affections. Thus the sacred vessels of learning came into our control and stewardship; some by gift, others by purchase, and some lent to us for a season.
Richard de Bury's Philobiblon, completed on his fifty-eighth birthday in 1345, is a sustained defense of book collecting written by a man who spent his final months dictating it from a sickbed. The work's structure—a series of chapters arguing for the love of books—is punctuated by vivid metaphors drawn from scripture and classical learning. De Bury compares scribes to ants preparing meat in summer and bees fabricating cells of honey, while he himself emerges as a figure who 'resuscitated' old manuscripts, restoring them 'to new life and health.' The translation by E. C. Thomas preserves the bishop's ornate, catalog-like prose, which mixes practical advice with theological justification.
The Bishop's Network of Scribes and Stationers
De Bury describes a systematic acquisition strategy that spanned nations. He secured 'the acquaintance of stationers and booksellers, not only within our own country, but of those spread over the realms of France, Germany, and Italy.' Money 'flying forth in abundance' overcame distance and sea hazards. At his manors, he maintained 'no small multitude of copyists and scribes, of binders, correctors, illuminators.' This passage reveals a hierarchical operation: the bishop as patron, the religious orders as intermediaries, and the craftsmen as laborers. He singles out the Preachers (Dominicans) for special praise, noting they were 'most freely communicative of their stores without jealousy.' The language is transactional yet reverent—books are both commodities and sacred objects.
Metaphors of Cultivation and Resurrection
De Bury repeatedly frames his collecting as agricultural or alchemical work. He enters the 'little plots and gardens' of schoolmasters, gathering 'sweet-smelling flowers' and digging up 'obsolete' roots that, once cleansed of 'rank barbarism,' could 'heal the pectoral arteries with the gift of eloquence.' The most striking image is that of restoration as resurrection: applying 'necessary means, as a type of the resurrection to come, we resuscitated them and restored them again to new life and health.' This fusion of bodily healing and spiritual renewal is central to his rhetoric. The books are not inert objects but entities that can be saved, and the collector acts as a physician or priest.
The Social Hierarchy of Bookish Labor
De Bury's catalog of workers—'copyists and scribes, of binders, correctors, illuminators'—is followed by an inclusive claim: 'all of both sexes and of every rank or position who had any kind of association with books, could most easily open by their knocking the door of our heart.' Yet the text also distinguishes between orders. The Preachers and Minors (Franciscans) are 'personal attendants and companions at our board,' while the stationers are distant suppliers. The schoolmasters are visited in their 'little plots,' a phrase that suggests condescension. This hierarchy mirrors the medieval chain of being, with the bishop at the apex, but it also shows a practical mind: every role is necessary for the preservation of knowledge.
The Voice of the Dying Collector
The Philobiblon was completed 'on the bishop's fifty-eighth birthday, the 24th of January, 1345,' as he was 'wasted by long sickness.' This biographical fact colors the text's urgency. De Bury writes as someone who has gathered books all his life and now must justify that pursuit. The preface notes that he was 'actively engaged in his literary efforts to the very end.' The work's tone is defensive but also triumphant: he has built a library, employed a network, and now offers a rationale. The closing note—'Dominus Ricardus de Bury migravit ad Dominum'—is a stark reminder that the treatise is a final testament. The reader encounters not a theoretical argument but a personal apologia from a man who defined himself by his books.
Readers approaching the Philobiblon should attend to its dual nature: it is both a practical manual for collectors and a spiritual meditation. De Bury's metaphors—ants, bees, resurrection—are not decorative but structural, shaping his argument that book collecting is a form of piety. The translation by E. C. Thomas, first published in 1888, renders the Latin into a Victorian English that mirrors the original's formal cadence. For those interested in the history of libraries, this text offers a rare firsthand account of medieval book acquisition, complete with names of trades and techniques.
That gray afternoon, the rain blurred the windows so the world dissolved into water, I lingered over de Bury’s belief that books hold souls within their pages. His medieval certainty felt almost like a whisper. Later, hunting for a dog-eared page, I stumbled on Carlyle’s lectures by accident—On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History — Inside the Classic—and recognized the same quiet reverence, paid to men instead of manuscripts.
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