Books and Bookmen
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Andrew Lang >> Books and Bookmen
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8 This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
from the 1887 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition.
BOOKS AND BOOKMEN
Contents:
To the Viscountess Wolseley
Preface
Elzevirs
Ballade of the Real and Ideal
Curiosities of Parish Registers
The Rowfant Books
To F. L.
Some Japanese Bogie-books
Ghosts in the Library
Literary Forgeries
Bibliomania in France
Old French Title-pages
A Bookman's Purgatory
Ballade of the Unattainable
Lady Book-lovers
TO THE VISCOUNTESS WOLSELEY
Madame, it is no modish thing,
The bookman's tribute that I bring;
A talk of antiquaries grey,
Dust unto dust this many a day,
Gossip of texts and bindings old,
Of faded type, and tarnish'd gold!
Can ladies care for this to-do
With Payne, Derome, and Padeloup?
Can they resign the rout, the ball,
For lonely joys of shelf and stall?
The critic thus, serenely wise;
But you can read with other eyes,
Whose books and bindings treasured are
'Midst mingled spoils of peace and war;
Shields from the fights the Mahdi lost,
And trinkets from the Golden Coast,
And many things divinely done
By Chippendale and Sheraton,
And trophies of Egyptian deeds,
And fans, and plates, and Aggrey beads,
Pomander boxes, assegais,
And sword-hilts worn in Marlbro's days.
In this pell-mell of old and new,
Of war and peace, my essays, too,
For long in serials tempest-tost,
Are landed now, and are not lost:
Nay, on your shelf secure they lie,
As in the amber sleeps the fly.
'Tis true, they are not "rich nor rare;"
Enough, for me, that they are--there!
A. L
PREFACE
The essays in this volume have, for the most part, already appeared
in an American edition (Combes, New York, 1886). The Essays on 'Old
French Title-Pages' and 'Lady Book-Lovers' take the place of 'Book
Binding' and 'Bookmen at Rome;' 'Elzevirs' and 'Some Japanese Bogie-
Books' are reprinted, with permission of Messrs. Cassell, from the
Magazine of Art; 'Curiosities of Parish Registers' from the
Guardian; 'Literary Forgeries' from the Contemporary Review; 'Lady
Book-Lovers' from the Fortnightly Review; 'A Bookman's Purgatory'
and two of the pieces of verse from Longman's Magazine--with the
courteous permission of the various editors. All the chapters have
been revised, and I have to thank Mr. H. Tedder for his kind care in
reading the proof sheets, and Mr. Charles Elton, M.P., for a similar
service to the Essay on 'Parish Registers.'
ELZEVIRS
The Countryman. "You know how much, for some time past, the
editions of the Elzevirs have been in demand. The fancy for them
has even penetrated into the country. I am acquainted with a man
there who denies himself necessaries, for the sake of collecting
into a library (where other books are scarce enough) as many little
Elzevirs as he can lay his hands upon. He is dying of hunger, and
his consolation is to be able to say, 'I have all the poets whom the
Elzevirs printed. I have ten examples of each of them, all with red
letters, and all of the right date.' This, no doubt, is a craze,
for, good as the books are, if he kept them to read them, one
example of each would be enough."
The Parisian. "If he had wanted to read them, I would not have
advised him to buy Elzevirs. The editions of minor authors which
these booksellers published, even editions 'of the right date,' as
you say, are not too correct. Nothing is good in the books but the
type and the paper. Your friend would have done better to use the
editions of Gryphius or Estienne."
This fragment of a literary dialogue I translate from 'Entretiens
sur les Contes de Fees,' a book which contains more of old talk
about books and booksellers than about fairies and folk-lore. The
'Entretiens' were published in 1699, about sixteen years after the
Elzevirs ceased to be publishers. The fragment is valuable: first,
because it shows us how early the taste for collecting Elzevirs was
fully developed, and, secondly, because it contains very sound
criticism of the mania. Already, in the seventeenth century, lovers
of the tiny Elzevirian books waxed pathetic over dates, already they
knew that a 'Caesar' of 1635 was the right 'Caesar,' already they
were fond of the red-lettered passages, as in the first edition of
the 'Virgil' of 1636. As early as 1699, too, the Parisian critic
knew that the editions were not very correct, and that the paper,
type, ornaments, and FORMAT were their main attractions. To these
we must now add the rarity of really good Elzevirs.
Though Elzevirs have been more fashionable than at present, they are
still regarded by novelists as the great prize of the book
collector. You read in novels about "priceless little Elzevirs,"
about books "as rare as an old Elzevir." I have met, in the works
of a lady novelist (but not elsewhere), with an Elzevir
'Theocritus.' The late Mr. Hepworth Dixon introduced into one of
his romances a romantic Elzevir Greek Testament, "worth its weight
in gold." Casual remarks of this kind encourage a popular delusion
that all Elzevirs are pearls of considerable price. When a man is
first smitten with the pleasant fever of book-collecting, it is for
Elzevirs that he searches. At first he thinks himself in amazing
luck. In Booksellers' Row and in Castle Street he "picks up," for a
shilling or two, Elzevirs, real or supposed. To the beginner, any
book with a sphere on the title-page is an Elzevir. For the
beginner's instruction, two copies of spheres are printed here. The
second is a sphere, an ill-cut, ill-drawn sphere, which is not
Elzevirian at all. The mark was used in the seventeenth century by
many other booksellers and printers. The first, on the other hand,
is a true Elzevirian sphere, from a play of Moliere's, printed in
1675. Observe the comparatively neat drawing of the first sphere,
and be not led away after spurious imitations.
Beware, too, of the vulgar error of fancying that little duodecimos
with the mark of the fox and the bee's nest, and the motto
"Quaerendo," come from the press of the Elzevirs. The mark is that
of Abraham Wolfgang, which name is not a pseudonym for Elzevir.
There are three sorts of Elzevir pseudonyms. First, they
occasionally reprinted the full title-page, publisher's name and
all, of the book they pirated. Secondly, when they printed books of
a "dangerous" sort, Jansenist pamphlets and so forth, they used
pseudonyms like "Nic. Schouter," on the 'Lettres Provinciales' of
Pascal. Thirdly, there are real pseudonyms employed by the
Elzevirs. John and Daniel, printing at Leyden (1652-1655), used the
false name "Jean Sambix." The Elzevirs of Amsterdam often placed
the name "Jacques le Jeune" on their title-pages. The collector who
remembers these things must also see that his purchases have the
right ornaments at the heads of chapters, the right tail-pieces at
the ends. Two of the most frequently recurring ornaments are the
so-called "Tete de Buffle" and the "Sirene." More or less clumsy
copies of these and the other Elzevirian ornaments are common enough
in books of the period, even among those printed out of the Low
Countries; for example, in books published in Paris.
A brief sketch of the history of the Elzevirs may here be useful.
The founder of the family, a Flemish bookbinder, Louis, left Louvain
and settled in Leyden in 1580. He bought a house opposite the
University, and opened a book-shop. Another shop, on college
ground, was opened in 1587. Louis was a good bookseller, a very
ordinary publisher. It was not till shortly before his death, in
1617, that his grandson Isaac bought a set of types and other
material. Louis left six sons. Two of these, Matthew and
Bonaventure, kept on the business, dating ex officina Elzeviriana.
In 1625 Bonaventure and Abraham (son of Matthew) became partners.
The "good dates" of Elzevirian books begin from 1626. The two
Elzevirs chose excellent types, and after nine years' endeavours
turned out the beautiful 'Caesar' of 1635.
Their classical series in petit format was opened with 'Horace' and
'Ovid' in 1629. In 1641 they began their elegant piracies of French
plays and poetry with 'Le Cid.' It was worth while being pirated by
the Elzevirs, who turned you out like a gentleman, with fleurons and
red letters, and a pretty frontispiece. The modern pirate dresses
you in rags, prints you murderously, and binds you, if he binds you
at all, in some hideous example of "cloth extra," all gilt, like
archaic gingerbread. Bonaventure and Abraham both died in 1652.
They did not depart before publishing (1628), in grand format, a
desirable work on fencing, Thibault's 'Academie de l'Espee.' This
Tibbald also killed by the book. John and Daniel Elzevir came next.
They brought out the 'Imitation' (Thomae a Kempis canonici regularis
ord. S. Augustini De Imitatione Christi, libri iv.); I wish by
taking thought I could add eight millimetres to the stature of my
copy. In 1655 Daniel joined a cousin, Louis, in Amsterdam, and John
stayed in Leyden. John died in 1661; his widow struggled on, but
her son Abraham (1681) let all fall into ruins. Abraham died 1712.
The Elzevirs of Amsterdam lasted till 1680, when Daniel died, and
the business was wound up. The type, by Christopher Van Dyck, was
sold in 1681, by Daniel's widow. Sic transit gloria.
After he has learned all these matters the amateur has still a great
deal to acquire. He may now know a real Elzevir from a book which
is not an Elzevir at all. But there are enormous differences of
value, rarity, and excellence among the productions of the
Elzevirian press. The bookstalls teem with small, "cropped," dingy,
dirty, battered Elzevirian editions of the classics, NOT "of the
good date." On these it is not worth while to expend a couple of
shillings, especially as Elzevirian type is too small to be read
with comfort by most modern eyes. No, let the collector save his
money; avoid littering his shelves with what he will soon find to be
rubbish, and let him wait the chance of acquiring a really beautiful
and rare Elzevir.
Meantime, and before we come to describe Elzevirs of the first
flight, let it be remembered that the "taller" the copy, the less
harmed and nipped by the binder's shears, the better. "Men scarcely
know how beautiful fire is," says Shelley; and we may say that most
men hardly know how beautiful an Elzevir was in its uncut and
original form. The Elzevirs we have may be "dear," but they are
certainly "dumpy twelves." Their fair proportions have been docked
by the binder. At the Beckford sale there was a pearl of a book, a
'Marot;' not an Elzevir, indeed, but a book published by Wetstein, a
follower of the Elzevirs. This exquisite pair of volumes, bound in
blue morocco, was absolutely unimpaired, and was a sight to bring
happy tears into the eyes of the amateur of Elzevirs. There was a
gracious svelte elegance about these tomes, an appealing and
exquisite delicacy of proportion, that linger like sweet music in
the memory. I have a copy of the Wetstein 'Marot' myself, not a bad
copy, though murderously bound in that ecclesiastical sort of brown
calf antique, which goes well with hymn books, and reminds one of
cakes of chocolate. But my copy is only some 128 millimetres in
height, whereas the uncut Beckford copy (it had belonged to the
great Pixerecourt) was at least 130 millimetres high. Beside the
uncut example mine looks like Cinderella's plain sister beside the
beauty of the family.
Now the moral is that only tall Elzevirs are beautiful, only tall
Elzevirs preserve their ancient proportions, only tall Elzevirs are
worth collecting. Dr. Lemuel Gulliver remarks that the King of
Lilliput was taller than any of his court by almost the breadth of a
nail, and that his altitude filled the minds of all with awe. Well,
the Philistine may think a few millimetres, more or less, in the
height of an Elzevir are of little importance. When he comes to
sell, he will discover the difference. An uncut, or almost uncut,
copy of a good Elzevir may be worth fifty or sixty pounds or more;
an ordinary copy may bring fewer pence. The binders usually pare
down the top and bottom more than the sides. I have a 'Rabelais' of
the good date, with the red title (1663), and some of the pages have
never been opened, at the sides. But the height is only some 122
millimetres, a mere dwarf. Anything over 130 millimetres is very
rare. Therefore the collector of Elzevirs should have one of those
useful ivory-handled knives on which the French measures are marked,
and thus he will at once be able to satisfy himself as to the exact
height of any example which he encounters.
Let us now assume that the amateur quite understands what a proper
Elzevir should be: tall, clean, well bound if possible, and of the
good date. But we have still to learn what the good dates are, and
this is matter for the study and practice of a well-spent life. We
may gossip about a few of the more famous Elzevirs, those without
which no collection is complete. Of all Elzevirs the most famous
and the most expensive is an old cookery book, "'Le Pastissier
Francois.' Wherein is taught the way to make all sorts of pastry,
useful to all sorts of persons. Also the manner of preparing all
manner of eggs, for fast-days, and other days, in more than sixty
fashions. Amsterdam, Louys, and Daniel Elsevier. 1665." The mark
is not the old "Sage," but the "Minerva" with her owl. Now this
book has no intrinsic value any more than a Tauchnitz reprint of any
modern volume on cooking. The 'Pastissier' is cherished because it
is so very rare. The tract passed into the hands of cooks, and the
hands of cooks are detrimental to literature. Just as nursery
books, fairy tales, and the like are destroyed from generation to
generation, so it happens with books used in the kitchen. The
'Pastissier,' to be sure, has a good frontispiece, a scene in a Low
Country kitchen, among the dead game and the dainties. The buxom
cook is making a game pie; a pheasant pie, decorated with the bird's
head and tail-feathers, is already made. {1}
Not for these charms, but for its rarity, is the 'Pastissier'
coveted. In an early edition of the 'Manuel' (1821) Brunet says,
with a feigned brutality (for he dearly loved an Elzevir), "Till now
I have disdained to admit this book into my work, but I have yielded
to the prayers of amateurs. Besides, how could I keep out a volume
which was sold for one hundred and one francs in 1819?" One hundred
and one francs! If I could only get a 'Pastissier' for one hundred
and one francs! But our grandfathers lived in the Bookman's
Paradise. "Il n'est pas jusqu'aux Anglais," adds Brunet--"the very
English themselves--have a taste for the 'Pastissier.'" The Duke of
Marlborough's copy was actually sold for 1 pound 4s. It would have
been money in the ducal pockets of the house of Marlborough to have
kept this volume till the general sale of all their portable
property at which our generation is privileged to assist. No wonder
the 'Pastissier' was thought rare. Berard only knew two copies.
Pietiers, writing on the Elzevirs in 1843, could cite only five
'Pastissiers,' and in his 'Annales' he had found out but five more.
Willems, on the other hand, enumerates some thirty, not including
Motteley's. Motteley was an uncultivated, untaught enthusiast. He
knew no Latin, but he had a FLAIR for uncut Elzevirs. "Incomptis
capillis," he would cry (it was all his lore) as he gloated over his
treasures. They were all burnt by the Commune in the Louvre
Library.
A few examples may be given of the prices brought by 'Le Pastissier'
in later days. Sensier's copy was but 128 millimetres in height,
and had the old ordinary vellum binding,--in fact, it closely
resembled a copy which Messrs. Ellis and White had for sale in Bond
Street in 1883. The English booksellers asked, I think, about 1,500
francs for their copy. Sensier's was sold for 128 francs in April,
1828; for 201 francs in 1837. Then the book was gloriously bound by
Trautz-Bauzonnet, and was sold with Potier's books in 1870, when it
fetched 2,910 francs. At the Benzon sale (1875) it fetched 3,255
francs, and, falling dreadfully in price, was sold again in 1877 for
2,200 francs. M. Dutuit, at Rouen, has a taller copy, bound by
Bauzonnet. Last time it was sold (1851) it brought 251 francs. The
Duc de Chartres has now the copy of Pieters, the historian of the
Elzevirs, valued at 3,000 francs.
About thirty years ago no fewer than three copies were sold at
Brighton, of all places. M. Quentin Bauchart had a copy only 127
millimetres in height, which he swopped to M. Paillet. M.
Chartener, of Metz, had a copy now bound by Bauzonnet which was sold
for four francs in 1780. We call this the age of cheap books, but
before the Revolution books were cheaper. It is fair to say,
however, that this example of the 'Pastissier' was then bound up
with another book, Vlacq's edition of 'Le Cuisinier Francois,' and
so went cheaper than it would otherwise have done. M. de Fontaine
de Resbecq declares that a friend of his bought six original pieces
of Moliere's bound up with an old French translation of Garth's
'Dispensary.' The one faint hope left to the poor book collector is
that he may find a valuable tract lurking in the leaves of some
bound collection of trash. I have an original copy of Moliere's
'Les Fascheux' bound up with a treatise on precious stones, but the
bookseller from whom I bought it knew it was there! That made all
the difference.
But, to return to our 'Pastissier,' here is M. de Fontaine de
Resbecq's account of how he wooed and won his own copy of this
illustrious Elzevir. "I began my walk to-day," says this haunter of
ancient stalls, "by the Pont Marie and the Quai de la Greve, the
pillars of Hercules of the book-hunting world. After having viewed
and reviewed these remote books, I was going away, when my attention
was caught by a small naked volume, without a stitch of binding. I
seized it, and what was my delight when I recognised one of the
rarest of that famed Elzevir collection whose height is measured as
minutely as the carats of the diamond. There was no indication of
price on the box where this jewel was lying; the book, though
unbound, was perfectly clean within. 'How much?' said I to the
bookseller. 'You can have it for six sous,' he answered; 'is it too
much?' 'No,' said I, and, trembling a little, I handed him the
thirty centimes he asked for the 'Pastissier Francois.' You may
believe, my friend, that after such a piece of luck at the start,
one goes home fondly embracing the beloved object of one's search.
That is exactly what I did."
Can this tale be true? Is such luck given by the jealous fates
mortalibus aegris? M. de Resbecq's find was made apparently in
1856, when trout were plenty in the streams, and rare books not so
very rare. To my own knowledge an English collector has bought an
original play of Moliere's, in the original vellum, for
eighteenpence. But no one has such luck any longer. Not, at least,
in London. A more expensive 'Pastissier' than that which brought
six sous was priced in Bachelin-Deflorenne's catalogue at 240
pounds. A curious thing occurred when two uncut 'Pastissiers'
turned up simultaneously in Paris. One of them Morgand and Fatout
sold for 400 pounds. Clever people argued that one of the twin
uncut 'Pastissiers' must be an imitation, a facsimile by means of
photogravure, or some other process. But it was triumphantly
established that both were genuine; they had minute points of
difference in the ornaments.
M. Willems, the learned historian of the Elzevirs, is indignant at
the successes of a book which, as Brunet declares, is badly printed.
There must be at least forty known 'Pastissiers' in the world. Yes;
but there are at least 4,000 people who would greatly rejoice to
possess a 'Pastissier,' and some of these desirous ones are very
wealthy. While this state of the market endures, the 'Pastissier'
will fetch higher prices than the other varieties. Another
extremely rare Elzevir is 'L'Illustre Theatre de Mons. Corneille'
(Leyden, 1644). This contains 'Le Cid,' 'Les Horaces,' 'Le Cinna,'
'La Mort de Pompee,' 'Le Polyeucte.' The name, 'L'Illustre
Theatre,' appearing at that date has an interest of its own. In
1643-44, Moliere and Madeleine Bejart had just started the company
which they called 'L'Illustre Theatre.' Only six or seven copies of
the book are actually known, though three or four are believed to
exist in England, probably all covered with dust in the library of
some lord. "He has a very good library," I once heard some one say
to a noble earl, whose own library was famous. "And what can a
fellow do with a very good library?" answered the descendant of the
Crusaders, who probably (being a youth light-hearted and content)
was ignorant of his own great possessions. An expensive copy of
'L'Illustre Theatre,' bound by Trautz-Bauzonnet, was sold for 300
pounds.
Among Elzevirs desirable, yet not hopelessly rare, is the 'Virgil'
of 1636. Heinsius was the editor of this beautiful volume, prettily
printed, but incorrect. Probably it is hard to correct with
absolute accuracy works in the clear but minute type which the
Elzevirs affected. They have won fame by the elegance of their
books, but their intention was to sell good books cheap, like Michel
Levy. The small type was required to get plenty of "copy" into
little bulk. Nicholas Heinsius, the son of the editor of the
'Virgil,' when he came to correct his father's edition, found that
it contained so many coquilles, or misprints, as to be nearly the
most incorrect copy in the world. Heyne says, "Let the 'Virgil' be
one of the rare Elzevirs, if you please, but within it has scarcely
a trace of any good quality." Yet the first edition of this
beautiful little book, with its two passages of red letters, is so
desirable that, till he could possess it, Charles Nodier would not
profane his shelves by any 'Virgil' at all.
Equally fine is the 'Caesar' of 1635, which, with the 'Virgil' of
1636 and the 'Imitation' without date, M. Willems thinks the most
successful works of the Elzevirs, "one of the most enviable jewels
in the casket of the bibliophile." It may be recognised by the page
238, which is erroneously printed 248. A good average height is
from 125 to 128 millimetres. The highest known is 130 millimetres.
This book, like the 'Imitation,' has one of the pretty and ingenious
frontispieces which the Elzevirs prefixed to their books. So
farewell, and good speed in your sport, ye hunters of Elzevirs, and
may you find perhaps the rarest Elzevir of all, 'L'Aimable Mere de
Jesus.'
BALLADE OF THE REAL AND IDEAL (DOUBLE REFRAIN)
O visions of salmon tremendous,
Of trout of unusual weight,
Of waters that wander as Ken does,
Ye come through the Ivory Gate!
But the skies that bring never a "spate,"
But the flies that catch up in a thorn,
But the creel that is barren of freight,
Through the portals of horn!
O dreams of the Fates that attend us
With prints in the earliest state,
O bargains in books that they send us,
Ye come through the Ivory Gate!
But the tome that has never a mate,
But the quarto that's tattered and torn,
And bereft of a title and date,
Through the portals of horn!
O dreams of the tongues that commend us,
Of crowns for the laureate pate,
Of a public to buy and befriend us,
Ye come through the Ivory Gate!
But the critics that slash us and slate, {2}
But the people that hold us in scorn,
But the sorrow, the scathe, and the hate,
Through the portals of horn!
ENVOY.
Fair dreams of things golden and great,
Ye come through the Ivory Gate;
But the facts that are bleak and forlorn,
Through the portals of horn!
CURIOSITIES OF PARISH REGISTERS
There are three classes of persons who are deeply concerned with
parish registers--namely, villains, antiquaries, and the sedulous
readers, "parish clerks and others," of the second or "agony" column
of the Times. Villains are probably the most numerous of these
three classes. The villain of fiction dearly loves a parish
register: he cuts out pages, inserts others, intercalates remarks
in a different coloured ink, and generally manipulates the register
as a Greek manages his hand at ecarte, or as a Hebrew dealer in
Moabite bric-a-brac treats a synagogue roll. We well remember one
villain who had locked himself into the vestry (he was disguised as
an archaeologist), and who was enjoying his wicked pleasure with the
register, when the vestry somehow caught fire, the rusty key would
not turn in the door, and the villain was roasted alive, in spite of
the disinterested efforts to save him made by all the virtuous
characters in the story. Let the fate of this bold, bad man be a
warning to wicked earls, baronets, and all others who attempt to
destroy the record of the marriage of a hero's parents. Fate will
be too strong for them in the long run, though they bribe the parish
clerk, or carry off in white wax an impression of the keys of the
vestry and of the iron chest in which a register should repose.
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