Books and Bookmen [42]
a bibliography, in two quarto volumes, of books which
have been in the libraries of famous beauties of old, queens and
princesses of France. There can be no doubt that these ladies were
possessors of exquisite printed books and manuscripts wonderfully
bound, but it remains uncertain whether the owners, as a rule, were
bibliophiles; whether their hearts were with their treasures.
Incredible as it may seem to us now, literature was highly respected
in the past, and was even fashionable. Poets were in favour at
court, and Fashion decided that the great must possess books, and
not only books, but books produced in the utmost perfection of art,
and bound with all the skill at the disposal of Clovis Eve, and
Padeloup, and Duseuil. Therefore, as Fashion gave her commands, we
cannot hastily affirm that the ladies who obeyed were really book-
lovers. In our more polite age, Fashion has decreed that ladies
shall smoke, and bet, and romp, but it would be premature to assert
that all ladies who do their duty in these matters are born romps,
or have an unaffected liking for cigarettes. History, however,
maintains that many of the renowned dames whose books are now the
most treasured of literary relics were actually inclined to study as
well as to pleasure, like Marguerite de Valois and the Comtesse de
Verrue, and even Madame de Pompadour. Probably books and arts were
more to this lady's liking than the diversions by which she beguiled
the tedium of Louis XV.; and many a time she would rather have been
quiet with her plays and novels than engaged in conscientiously
conducted but distasteful revels.
Like a true Frenchman, M. Bauchart has only written about French
lady book-lovers, or about women who, like Mary Stuart, were more
than half French. Nor would it be easy for an English author to
name, outside the ranks of crowned heads, like Elizabeth, any
Englishwomen of distinction who had a passion for the material side
of literature, for binding, and first editions, and large paper, and
engravings in early "states." The practical sex, when studious, is
like the same sex when fond of equestrian exercise. "A lady says,
'My heyes, he's an 'orse, and he must go,'" according to Leech's
groom. In the same way, a studious girl or matron says, "This is a
book," and reads it, if read she does, without caring about the
date, or the state, or the publisher's name, or even very often
about the author's. I remember, before the publication of a novel
now celebrated, seeing a privately printed vellum-bound copy on
large paper in the hands of a literary lady. She was holding it
over the fire, and had already made the vellum covers curl wide open
like the shells of an afflicted oyster.
When I asked what the volume was, she explained that "It is a book
which a poor man has written, and he's had it printed to see whether
some one won't be kind enough to publish it." I ventured, perhaps
pedantically, to point out that the poor man could not be so very
poor, or he would not have made so costly an experiment on Dutch
paper. But the lady said she did not know how that might be, and
she went on toasting the experiment. In all this there is a fine
contempt for everything but the spiritual aspect of literature;
there is an aversion to the mere coquetry and display of morocco and
red letters, and the toys which amuse the minds of men. Where
ladies have caught "the Bibliomania," I fancy they have taken this
pretty fever from the other sex. But it must be owned that the
books they have possessed, being rarer and more romantic, are even
more highly prized by amateurs than examples from the libraries of
Grolier, and Longepierre, and D'Hoym. M. Bauchart's book is a
complete guide to the collector of these expensive relics. He
begins his dream of fair women who have owned books with the pearl
of the Valois, Marguerite d'Angouleme, the sister of Francis I. The
remains of her library are chiefly devotional manuscripts. Indeed,
it is to be noted that all these ladies, however frivolous,
have been in the libraries of famous beauties of old, queens and
princesses of France. There can be no doubt that these ladies were
possessors of exquisite printed books and manuscripts wonderfully
bound, but it remains uncertain whether the owners, as a rule, were
bibliophiles; whether their hearts were with their treasures.
Incredible as it may seem to us now, literature was highly respected
in the past, and was even fashionable. Poets were in favour at
court, and Fashion decided that the great must possess books, and
not only books, but books produced in the utmost perfection of art,
and bound with all the skill at the disposal of Clovis Eve, and
Padeloup, and Duseuil. Therefore, as Fashion gave her commands, we
cannot hastily affirm that the ladies who obeyed were really book-
lovers. In our more polite age, Fashion has decreed that ladies
shall smoke, and bet, and romp, but it would be premature to assert
that all ladies who do their duty in these matters are born romps,
or have an unaffected liking for cigarettes. History, however,
maintains that many of the renowned dames whose books are now the
most treasured of literary relics were actually inclined to study as
well as to pleasure, like Marguerite de Valois and the Comtesse de
Verrue, and even Madame de Pompadour. Probably books and arts were
more to this lady's liking than the diversions by which she beguiled
the tedium of Louis XV.; and many a time she would rather have been
quiet with her plays and novels than engaged in conscientiously
conducted but distasteful revels.
Like a true Frenchman, M. Bauchart has only written about French
lady book-lovers, or about women who, like Mary Stuart, were more
than half French. Nor would it be easy for an English author to
name, outside the ranks of crowned heads, like Elizabeth, any
Englishwomen of distinction who had a passion for the material side
of literature, for binding, and first editions, and large paper, and
engravings in early "states." The practical sex, when studious, is
like the same sex when fond of equestrian exercise. "A lady says,
'My heyes, he's an 'orse, and he must go,'" according to Leech's
groom. In the same way, a studious girl or matron says, "This is a
book," and reads it, if read she does, without caring about the
date, or the state, or the publisher's name, or even very often
about the author's. I remember, before the publication of a novel
now celebrated, seeing a privately printed vellum-bound copy on
large paper in the hands of a literary lady. She was holding it
over the fire, and had already made the vellum covers curl wide open
like the shells of an afflicted oyster.
When I asked what the volume was, she explained that "It is a book
which a poor man has written, and he's had it printed to see whether
some one won't be kind enough to publish it." I ventured, perhaps
pedantically, to point out that the poor man could not be so very
poor, or he would not have made so costly an experiment on Dutch
paper. But the lady said she did not know how that might be, and
she went on toasting the experiment. In all this there is a fine
contempt for everything but the spiritual aspect of literature;
there is an aversion to the mere coquetry and display of morocco and
red letters, and the toys which amuse the minds of men. Where
ladies have caught "the Bibliomania," I fancy they have taken this
pretty fever from the other sex. But it must be owned that the
books they have possessed, being rarer and more romantic, are even
more highly prized by amateurs than examples from the libraries of
Grolier, and Longepierre, and D'Hoym. M. Bauchart's book is a
complete guide to the collector of these expensive relics. He
begins his dream of fair women who have owned books with the pearl
of the Valois, Marguerite d'Angouleme, the sister of Francis I. The
remains of her library are chiefly devotional manuscripts. Indeed,
it is to be noted that all these ladies, however frivolous,