Writing in Duke Humfrey's Library

 

With this desire she hath a native might
To find out every truth, if she had time,
Th' innumerable effects to sort aright,
And by degrees from cause to cause to climb.
...
But in this life no soul the truth can know
So perfectly as it hath power to do:
If then perfection be not found below,
An higher place must make her meant thereto.

-Sir John Davies

From my Oxford Notebook

My little booklover's heart is all a-gush: I am sitting in the Duke Humfrey's Library, with only a few of my possessions: phone, laptop, this notebook, and this pencil. I am over the moon delighted to be sitting here with shelves of ancient books right in front of me (and behind me) at a desk in the middle section (of either of the Arts and Sheldon ends). It's such a big deal, I am skipping my morning coffee to spend time in here - I love it. So quiet, stuck in time. Right now I have the whole row to myself. I plan to get some writing done (besides this gushing library love writing) - putting some notes to use to writing more of my draft. This is the perfect place to do it. I don't need access to books, just my notes on my laptop.

My friend who works at the Bodleian Library as a tour guide was giving a tour to a group as I walked in. I tapped her shoulder as I passed and we waved as she was in the midst of explaining some historical tidbit about the oldest library of the Bodleian. It is amazing to think how many times I have taken the tours and now I am independently studying here in the oldest library, breathing in the scent of old books. The aging leather and paper scent - it's so dreamy.

I look around, I look up, surrounded by books, very old books from probably the 15th-16th centuries. Even books painted on the ceiling adorned in Latin. I recall from C.S. Lewis's diary how he sat here reading as an undergraduate, and as a don he later sat here to read all the literature published in the 16th century to write his edition of the Oxford English Literature in the 16th Century mammoth book (he dubbed OHEL). It took him ten years to write it. 

The shelves have some dust between the books, as these books are not moved much, I imagine. They are all in Latin. They can't be lifted out, or an alarm will sound. To help preserve these very aged old books, if you want to read one, you'd request it in the Manuscripts reading room at the Weston to have the book rests and page weights to properly look at one without stressing the spine. Like dinosaurs, they hold secrets of the past, but in human history and thought. They are treasures.

It's a funny juxtaposition - I am sitting here, in these old wooden chairs, nose to spine with these books older than my home country, written in a language I can't read. All is silent in a room full of words.

This place inspires thinking and writing. It reveals how important these things are - researching, thinking, writing, learning, coming to your conclusion after learning from the wiser authors before you. It's a legacy left to us and we shall leave to others. An immense privilege to have access to this. To imagine the authors and thinkers who have sat here through history. The whole space feels like it is frozen in the 15th century, except for the WiFi and laptops. Those modern creations that seems so out of place.

When you appreciate a space and place like this, for its history and literary connections, it elevates the space and motivates the spirit.