The world-renowned library inspired and created by love

In the name of love, we often go to extraordinary lengths: sacrificing time, energy, and sometimes even our own dreams to show those we care about just how deeply we feel for them.

Love has a way of inspiring us to do the unimaginable.

But for Enriqueta Rylands, love took the form of something far grander.

After the death of her beloved husband, industrial magnate John Rylands, she embarked on a mission that would change the city of Manchester forever: to build a library, a sanctuary of knowledge and intellectual pursuit, dedicated to his memory.

This was no ordinary tribute, but a magnificent, awe-inspiring creation that would stand the test of time, as the John Rylands Library today, remains one of the most stunning Gothic buildings in the world.

The story of the John Rylands Library

Tucked away on Deansgate, the storied street that follows the path of an ancient Roman road, running like main artery through the west side of Manchester, the John Rylands Library rises from the pavement like a dream cast in red sandstone (Although admittedly it has been darkened by rain and smog from down the years).

Among the tall commercial buildings and glassy new developments, its Gothic turrets, arched windows and castle, like presence break the skyline with defiance. It is both fortress and church, a temple not to profit or power but to learning, and love.

It’s one of Manchester’s most loved buildings but in reality, it is so much more.  It is a love letter made from stone, a physical manifestation of grief and remembrance.

Commissioned by Enriqueta Rylands in memory of her husband John Rylands, this library was never intended to be just another public institution. It was personal from the start and over time, it became something even greater: one of the most important research libraries in the world.

Dr Elizabeth Gow Head Curator for the Collections Gallery at the John Rylands Library

We spoke with Dr Elizabeth Gow, the head curator for the Collections Gallery, to talk about the library’s history.

She said: “Despite the amazing collection, this was an accessible place for local people when it opened. Manchester at the time was a very modern city, it had factories, warehouses… it was quite dark and smoky and full of people.

“There were also a lot of people still living in poverty, but there was a thriving middle class too, and it was, I think, a more dynamic culture than possibly even London at that time.

“The middle classes really wanted to bring the working classes, and consequently their cities, up. There’s a famous moment in the 1860s when John Ruskin came to Manchester and called on the Merchant Princes of the day to do something, not just let people live in misery. He asked them to bring beauty, to bring art, to bring the light of culture to what was, admittedly, quite a gloomy place.

“And It possibly sparked a lightbulb moment for Enriqueta Rylands.”

Who was John Rylands?

To understand the library, we must first understand the man whose name it bears. John Rylands was one of the most successful businessmen in Victorian Britain, a self-made titan of industry whose work helped define Manchester’s rise as the global heart of textile manufacturing.

Born in 1801, the youngest son of a modestly successful textile manufacturer, John entered the family firm, Rylands & Sons, and proved early on that he was no ordinary businessman. Through sheer drive, sometimes even working 19-hour days in his twenties, not to mention a sharp instinct for commerce, Rylands expanded the business dramatically.

He shifted from linen to cotton, opened vast mills, and moved into dyeing and bleaching. By the 1850s, he was Manchester’s largest textile merchant and its first recorded millionaire.

By 1865, Rylands & Sons had become the largest textile manufacturer in Britain, with over 4,500 employees and a hand in nearly every stage of production: spinning, weaving, bleaching, dyeing, machinery manufacture, and even clothing.

But unlike many industrialists of the era, he remained deeply rooted in Manchester and the surrounding area.

He settled in Stretford and built Longford Hall, a stately but modestly run Italianate home. Despite immense wealth, he eschewed high society and its trappings, he refused to keep horses, hounds, or manservants. Instead, he focused much of his energy on charitable works, particularly for widows, orphans, and the poor. He conducted much of this work quietly, convinced of its moral necessity.

He also devoted himself to religion. A devout Congregationalist, Rylands was passionate about making scripture more accessible and published his own ‘Rylands Paragraph Bible’ three editions in total.

His faith also shaped the library that would one day bear his name.

A life marked by tragedy

John Rylands’s personal life was marked by tragedy. His first wife, Dinah Raby, died in 1843, and all seven of their children predeceased him.

He married again in 1848 to Martha Carden, who supported his religious work and introduced into the household a young companion named Enriqueta Tennant. Born near Havana to a Liverpool merchant, Enriqueta was raised in Paris after her father’s death.

She shared John’s religious beliefs and, in 1875, after Martha’s death, married the 74-year-old Rylands. He was 40 years her senior.

They adopted two children, Arthur and Maria, and remained devoted to each other until John’s death in 1888. When he passed away, he left behind a vast fortune, over £2.5 million, and Enriqueta inherited the bulk of it.

Her response was immediate. She chose to commemorate John not with a statue or plaque but with something far more enduring: a great library, open to scholars and the public alike, where religious study and education could flourish.

Building a cathedral of knowledge

In 1890, Enriqueta Rylands commissioned architect Basil Champneys, a specialist in educational architecture, to design a grand library. Champneys had recently completed work on Mansfield College, Oxford: an institution with strong Congregationalist and Mancunian ties. Inspired by Mansfield’s library, Enriqueta envisioned something even more magnificent.

Two years later, in 1892, she purchased what was widely regarded as the finest privately owned library from John Poyntz Spencer (1835–1910), 5th Earl Spencer. The collection was especially renowned for its exceptional early printed works.

The bulk of these items had been acquired during the late 18th and early 19th centuries by George John (1758–1834), 2nd Earl Spencer. Over a span of thirty-five years, beginning in 1788, Spencer meticulously curated one of the world’s greatest private libraries. He belonged to a select circle of aristocratic book collectors, self-proclaimed bibliomaniacs, who competed fervently, investing vast sums to secure rare and early printed texts.

By the time of Spencer’s death in 1834, his collection had grown to approximately 40,000 volumes, including prized copies of the Gutenberg Bible, the Mainz Psalter, and fifty-three Caxtons, collectively valued at over £60,000.

The construction of the library took a decade to complete and ultimately cost £224,086, nearly three times the original estimate. The official opening took place on 6th October 1899, coinciding precisely with the 24th anniversary of Enriqueta and John Rylands’ wedding.

Her involvement extended far beyond financial support; she meticulously oversaw every aspect, from architectural details to collection curation, regulations, and even the institution’s motto: Nihil Sine Labore—“Nothing Without Labour.”

Bibliotheca Lindesiana manuscript collection

In 1901, she made another landmark acquisition: the Bibliotheca Lindesiana manuscript collection, purchased from the Earls of Crawford and Balcarres for £155,000.

This added 6,000 manuscripts in Hebrew, Greek, and a range of Oriental languages, vastly broadening the scope and depth of the library’s holdings.

By the time of her death in 1908, Enriqueta had spent nearly £1 million on the library but still left an estate of over £3.4 million.

She donated generously to hospitals, schools, women’s charities, and left a £200,000 endowment to secure the library’s future.

Who was the John Rylands Library built for?

So who was the library really for? Elites? Academics? Dr Gow disagreed: “I think it was built for everyone to use. She was very clear that she wanted the library to be useful, in the widest sense of the word.

“That meant access for scholars with or without institutional affiliation, yes, but also for ordinary Mancunians, especially those excluded from traditional centres of learning.

“Women were welcome too, which was unusual for the time,” said Dr Gow.

“It was predominantly middle class but not exclusively. One of the applications we found was from a man called Arthur Guy, an electrical engineer, which was quite a new field in 1899, who was writing a book about ‘the new electricity’ or something like that.

“There was also a 16-year-old apprentice signwriter from Hulme, who simply said he came because he liked art.

“And a female teacher who got access to books she couldn’t find anywhere else.”

John Rylands Library is like ‘entering a dream’

Walking into the John Rylands Library is like entering a dream. The original entrance, no longer in regular use since the 2003–07 restoration, leads into a double-height Gothic hall filled with steep pointed arches and stone vaulting. A niche holds Theology Directing the Labours of Science and Art, a sculpture by John Cassidy that encapsulates the building’s founding philosophy.

The library was never intended to be a dusty vault of inaccessible treasures. From the beginning, the exhibition cases in the historic reading room were part of the design. “At the time, some libraries with rare books had exhibition spaces, but they were usually in the corridor outside,” said Dr Gow. “They were a way to show off, and to draw people in, but you just passed them on your way elsewhere.

“Whereas at Rylands, they were right in the middle of the main room: the room where people studied the collections. And those cases were also surrounded by statues. So there’s this interesting dynamic where people visit the library, see the objects, see the statues, and are inspired to become readers themselves.”

A grand staircase ascends to the main Reading Room, a cathedral of knowledge. Eight bays long, with towering stained-glass windows by Charles Eamer Kempe and a vaulted ceiling of light and shadow, the space is serene and soaring. It invites reverence. It inspires thought.

The bays that open off the main hall echo the cloistered studies of ancient scholars. Window carrels and bespoke bookshelves line the walls. The furniture, designed by Stephen Kemp, the clerk of works, is immaculately detailed: locked metal doors with velvet seals protect the rare books inside.

Even the bronze railings and light fixtures: made by Singer’s of Frome, add a flamboyant touch of Art Nouveau elegance.

Statues of John and Enriqueta Rylands look down the nave, facing each other from opposite ends of the reading room, like two bookends bracketing a legacy.

From private passion to public treasure

What’s the library like today?

Today, the John Rylands Library houses more than 1.4 million items: manuscripts, archives, rare books, and special collections that span over 5,000 years and more than 50 languages.

Among the Library’s world-class collections are ancient papyri, early European and Chinese printing, Islamic and medieval manuscripts, bibles, and modern archives. These collections, which came to the Rylands as gifts, purchases, and loans, tell stories of global significance.

The Rylands embody Manchester’s tradition for ingenuity and innovation. It has grown to be a renowned cultural and academic destination, welcoming readers, researchers, and visitors from around the world.

The library boasts the finest collection of the works of printer Aldus Manutius and the second-best collection of William Caxton’s books. It is home to local historical archives from the Egertons of Tatton, the Booths and Greys of Dunham Massey, and the Leghs of Lyme.

There are vast holdings on trade unionism, non-conformism, medical history, literary history, and business.

It has merged with the University of Manchester Library, incorporating the Christie Library and its early printed books. It now operates as the university’s Special Collections Library and is one of the great research libraries of the world,  rivalling Oxford, Cambridge, and beyond.

Between 2003 and 2007, the library underwent a major £17 million transformation. Architects Lloyd Evans Prichard and Austin-Smith:Lord created a new entrance, added research spaces and climate-controlled storage, and  most significantly — installed the pitched roof Champneys had originally envisioned, but which had been replaced by a concrete flat roof due to fire regulations. A century later, the building’s design was finally completed.

The Next Chapter project at John Rylands

In May 2025, as part of its 125th anniversary celebrations, the John Rylands Library unveiled its most ambitious addition in decades: the Collections Gallery, a luminous new space that reimagines how history is seen and understood.

This permanent gallery showcases over 40 extraordinary objects drawn from the library’s world-renowned holdings, offering a panoramic sweep through centuries of human creativity and achievement. From a rare fragment of the New Testament and a clay cylinder from Nebuchadnezzar’s temple, to Alan Turing’s handwritten programming notes and Rob Gretton’s Joy Division notebook, the gallery bridges ancient wisdom and modern culture in one breathtaking display.

Dr Gow continued said: “We’re trying to strike the perfect balance here, showcasing some of the wonderful objects in out collection without being overbearing.

“So why feature Alan Turing? Why Joy Division? Next to biblical manuscripts and medieval treasures?” It’s a continuation of Enriqueta’s vision.

“She was interested in how we see the world. She wanted the collection to be living and evolving.

“And actually, she got criticised for that. At the opening of Whitworth Hall in 1902, I think that was the 50th anniversary of Owens College or thereabouts, people were really unhappy with her decision to place new books alongside old ones.

“There was this idea that modern books would somehow contaminate the older ones. That this wasn’t how a “proper” library should behave.

“But at the same time, what she was doing was very Manchester.”

“What Enriqueta was doing is very Manchester”

Dr Gow continued: “You see it in the building itself. Maybe not so much in this space, but if you look at the historic reading room: you’ve got this beautiful neo-Gothic architecture that really echoes Oxford colleges and that kind of tradition.

“But at the same time, the heating and ventilation systems were pioneering. The lights were electric and super Art Nouveau.

“The fittings—the lights, even the radiators, were very modern.  And she had clashes with the architect about that. He wanted to stick to a more traditional Gothic design. But she was adamant.

“Singers of Frome, that’s who we’re using. I like their stuff. Let them do what they like, it’ll look good.

“And it does look good. There’s that tension between the Gothic and the modern, but it’s beautiful.”

Designed as a dynamic space with rotating exhibits, the Collections Gallery is a living tribute to Enriqueta Rylands’ founding vision: that knowledge, in all its forms, should inspire and challenge.

“More than a monument to one man’s memory”

Standing on Deansgate, the library is more than a monument to one man’s memory. It is a tribute to ambition, love, learning, and philanthropy.

It’s a Manchester landmark not because it shouts the loudest, but because it endures the longest.

Manchester has long been known for its energy, its industry, and its innovation.

But woven into the city’s steel and brick is a quieter kind of strength: the kind that builds libraries, not factories. That values books, not balance sheets. That remembers the past to enrich the future.

You can find out more about the John Rylands Library by clicking here