utriusque fortunae), Boccaccio, and of Coluccio Salutati’s letters.[359]
The library’s character might still further have been freshened had Gloucester’s bequest of his Latin books—the books, we may suppose, he himself prized too highly to part with during his lifetime—been carried into effect.[360]
“Our right special Lord and mighty Prince the Duke of Gloucester, late passed out of this world,—whose soul God assoil for his high mercy,—not long before his decease, being in our said University among all the doctors and masters of the same assembled together, granted unto us all his Latin books, to the loving of God, increase of clergy and cunning men, to the good governance and prosperity of the realm of England without end ... the which gift oftentimes after, by our messengers, and also in his last testament, as we understand, he confirmed.” But alas! Gloucester’s bequest was even more elusive than Cobham’s. These books they could, “by no manner of labours, since he deceased, obtain.”[361] What followed is interesting. Letters asking for the books were sent to the king, to Mr. John Somersett, His Majesty’s physician, “lately come to influence,” to William of Waynflete, provost of the king’s pet project, Eton College, and much in favour; and to the king’s chamberlain (1447). As these appeals were unavailing, another letter was sent to the king in 1450, and several others to influential persons, some being to Gloucester’s executors; then, in the same year, the House of Lords was petitioned. All this wire-pulling failed to serve its end. The University became angry. An outspoken letter was sent to Master John Somersett, “lately come to influence”: “Our proctor, Mr. Luke, tells us of your efforts for us to obtain the books given by the late Duke of Gloucester, and of your intercession with the king in our cause: also that you propose to add, of your own gift, other books to his bequest.” All this is very good of you, the letter proceeds, in effect, “but how is it that, under these circumstances, the Duke’s books, which came into your custody, are not delivered to us, unless it be that some powerful influence is exerted to prevent it; for a steadfast and good man will not be made to swerve from the path of justice by interest or cupidity. Use your endeavours to get these books: so do us a good favour; and clear your character.” Three years later it was discovered the books were scattered and in private hands (1453),[362] or, as seems likely, at King’s College, Cambridge, and Eton.
Now the library over the Congregation House was all too small. A Divinity School seems to have been first projected in 1423; building began about seven years later;[363] but the work proceeded very slowly, owing to want of money, which the authorities tried to raise in various ways, even by granting degrees on easy terms. When Gloucester’s books came to overcrowd the old library—and the books were chained so closely together that a student when reading one prevented the use of three or four books near to it—the idea was apparently first mooted of erecting a bigger room over the new school, where scholars might study far from the hum of men (a strepitu saeculari). The University sent an appeal to the Duke for help to carry out this scheme (1445), but he had then lost power and was in trouble, and does not seem to have responded favourably, albeit they suggested adroitly the new library should bear his name.[364] The building was