Books in those early times, whether orthodox or heterodox, appear to have had a precarious existence.  The heathens at each fresh outbreak of persecution burnt all the Christian writings they could find, and the Christians, when they got the upper hand, retaliated with interest upon the pagan literature.  The Mohammedan reason for destroying books—­“If they contain what is in the Koran they are superfluous, and if they contain anything opposed to it they are immoral,” seems, indeed, mutatis mutandis, to have been the general rule for all such devastators.

The Invention of Printing made the entire destruction of any author’s works much more difficult, so quickly and so extensively did books spread through all lands.  On the other hand, as books multiplied, so did destruction go hand in hand with production, and soon were printed books doomed to suffer in the same penal fires, that up to then had been fed on MSS. only.

At Cremona, in 1569, 12,000 books printed in Hebrew were publicly burnt as heretical, simply on account of their language; and Cardinal Ximenes, at the capture of Granada, treated 5,000 copies of the Koran in the same way.

At the time of the Reformation in England a great destruction of books took place.  The antiquarian Bale, writing in 1587, thus speaks of the shameful fate of the Monastic libraries:—­

“A greate nombre of them whyche purchased those superstycyouse mansyons (Monasteries) reserved of those librarye bookes some to serve their jakes, some to scoure theyr candelstyckes, and some to rubbe theyr bootes.  Some they solde to the grossers and sope sellers, and some they sent over see to yeS booke bynders, not in small nombre, but at tymes whole shyppes full, to yeS, wonderynge of foren nacyons.  Yea yeS.  Universytees of thys realme are not alle clere in thys detestable fact.  But cursed is that bellye whyche seketh to be fedde with suche ungodlye gaynes, and so depelye shameth hys natural conterye.  I knowe a merchant manne, whych shall at thys tyme be namelesse, that boughte yeS contentes of two noble lybraryes for forty shyllynges pryce:  a shame it is to be spoken.  Thys stuffe hathe heoccupyed in yeS stede of greye paper, by yeS, space of more than these ten yeares, and yet he bathe store ynoughe for as manye years to come.  A prodygyous example is thys, and to be abhorred of all men whyche love theyr nacyon as they shoulde do.  The monkes kepte them undre dust, yeS, ydle-headed prestes regarded them not, theyr latter owners have most shamefully abused them, and yeS covetouse merchantes have solde them away into foren nacyons for moneye.”

How the imagination recoils at the idea of Caxton’s translation of the Metamorphoses of Ovid, or perhaps his “Lyf of therle of Oxenforde,” together with many another book from our first presses, not a fragment of which do we now possess, being used for baking “pyes.”

At the Great Fire of London in 1666, the number of books burnt was enormous.  Not only in private houses and Corporate and Church libraries were priceless collections reduced to cinders, but an immense stock of books removed from Paternoster Row by the Stationers for safety was burnt to ashes in the vaults of St. Paul’s Cathedral.