Books and Bookmen [46]
chary of their presentation
copies. It is, no doubt, wise to turn these gifts with their sides
against the inner walls of bookcases, to be bulwarks against the
damp, but the trouble of acknowledging worthless presents from
strangers is considerable. {20}
Another interesting example of Madame de Maintenon's collections is
Dacier's 'Remarques Critiques sur les OEuvres d'Horace,' bearing the
arms of Louis XIV., but with his wife's signature on the fly-leaf
(1681).
Of Madame de Montespan, ousted from the royal favour by Madame de
Maintenon, who "married into the family where she had been
governess," there survives one bookish relic of interest. This is
'OEuvres Diverses par un auteur de sept ans,' in quarto, red
morocco, printed on vellum, and with the arms of the mother of the
little Duc du Maine (1678). When Madame de Maintenon was still
playing mother to the children of the king and of Madame de
Montespan, she printed those "works" of her eldest pupil.
These ladies were only bibliophiles by accident, and were devoted,
in the first place, to pleasure, piety, or ambition. With the
Comtesse de Verrue, whose epitaph will be found on an earlier page,
we come to a genuine and even fanatical collector. Madame de Verrue
(1670-1736) got every kind of diversion out of life, and when she
ceased to be young and fair, she turned to the joys of "shopping."
In early years, "pleine de coeur, elle le donna sans comptes." In
later life, she purchased, or obtained on credit, everything that
caught her fancy, also sans comptes. "My aunt," says the Duc de
Luynes, "was always buying, and never baulked her fancy." Pictures,
books, coins, jewels, engravings, gems (over 8,000), tapestries, and
furniture were all alike precious to Madame de Verrue. Her snuff-
boxes defied computation; she had them in gold, in tortoise-shell,
in porcelain, in lacquer, and in jasper, and she enjoyed the
delicate fragrance of sixty different sorts of snuff. Without
applauding the smoking of cigarettes in drawing-rooms, we may admit
that it is less repulsive than steady applications to tobacco in
Madame de Verrue's favourite manner.
The Countess had a noble library, for old tastes survived in her
commodious heart, and new tastes she anticipated. She possessed
'The Romance of the Rose,' and 'Villon,' in editions of Galliot du
Pre (1529-1533) undeterred by the satire of Boileau. She had
examples of the 'Pleiade,' though they were not again admired in
France till 1830. She was also in the most modern fashion of to-
day, for she had the beautiful quarto of La Fontaine's 'Contes,' and
Bouchier's illustrated Moliere (large paper). And, what I envy her
more, she had Perrault's 'Fairy Tales,' in blue morocco--the blue
rose of the folklorist who is also a book-hunter. It must also be
confessed that Madame de Verrue had a large number of books such as
are usually kept under lock and key, books which her heirs did not
care to expose at the sale of her library. Once I myself (moi
chetif) owned a novel in blue morocco, which had been in the
collection of Madame de Verrue. In her old age this exemplary woman
invented a peculiarly comfortable arm-chair, which, like her novels,
was covered with citron and violet morocco; the nails were of
silver. If Madame de Verrue has met the Baroness Bernstein, their
conversation in the Elysian Fields must be of the most gallant and
interesting description.
Another literary lady of pleasure, Madame de Pompadour, can only be
spoken of with modified approval. Her great fault was that she did
not check the decadence of taste and sense in the art of
bookbinding. In her time came in the habit of binding books (if
binding it can be called) with flat backs, without the nerves and
sinews that are of the very essence of book-covers. Without these
no binding can be permanent, none can secure the lasting existence
of a volume. It is very deeply to be deplored that by far the most
accomplished living English artist in bookbinding has reverted to
this old and most dangerous
copies. It is, no doubt, wise to turn these gifts with their sides
against the inner walls of bookcases, to be bulwarks against the
damp, but the trouble of acknowledging worthless presents from
strangers is considerable. {20}
Another interesting example of Madame de Maintenon's collections is
Dacier's 'Remarques Critiques sur les OEuvres d'Horace,' bearing the
arms of Louis XIV., but with his wife's signature on the fly-leaf
(1681).
Of Madame de Montespan, ousted from the royal favour by Madame de
Maintenon, who "married into the family where she had been
governess," there survives one bookish relic of interest. This is
'OEuvres Diverses par un auteur de sept ans,' in quarto, red
morocco, printed on vellum, and with the arms of the mother of the
little Duc du Maine (1678). When Madame de Maintenon was still
playing mother to the children of the king and of Madame de
Montespan, she printed those "works" of her eldest pupil.
These ladies were only bibliophiles by accident, and were devoted,
in the first place, to pleasure, piety, or ambition. With the
Comtesse de Verrue, whose epitaph will be found on an earlier page,
we come to a genuine and even fanatical collector. Madame de Verrue
(1670-1736) got every kind of diversion out of life, and when she
ceased to be young and fair, she turned to the joys of "shopping."
In early years, "pleine de coeur, elle le donna sans comptes." In
later life, she purchased, or obtained on credit, everything that
caught her fancy, also sans comptes. "My aunt," says the Duc de
Luynes, "was always buying, and never baulked her fancy." Pictures,
books, coins, jewels, engravings, gems (over 8,000), tapestries, and
furniture were all alike precious to Madame de Verrue. Her snuff-
boxes defied computation; she had them in gold, in tortoise-shell,
in porcelain, in lacquer, and in jasper, and she enjoyed the
delicate fragrance of sixty different sorts of snuff. Without
applauding the smoking of cigarettes in drawing-rooms, we may admit
that it is less repulsive than steady applications to tobacco in
Madame de Verrue's favourite manner.
The Countess had a noble library, for old tastes survived in her
commodious heart, and new tastes she anticipated. She possessed
'The Romance of the Rose,' and 'Villon,' in editions of Galliot du
Pre (1529-1533) undeterred by the satire of Boileau. She had
examples of the 'Pleiade,' though they were not again admired in
France till 1830. She was also in the most modern fashion of to-
day, for she had the beautiful quarto of La Fontaine's 'Contes,' and
Bouchier's illustrated Moliere (large paper). And, what I envy her
more, she had Perrault's 'Fairy Tales,' in blue morocco--the blue
rose of the folklorist who is also a book-hunter. It must also be
confessed that Madame de Verrue had a large number of books such as
are usually kept under lock and key, books which her heirs did not
care to expose at the sale of her library. Once I myself (moi
chetif) owned a novel in blue morocco, which had been in the
collection of Madame de Verrue. In her old age this exemplary woman
invented a peculiarly comfortable arm-chair, which, like her novels,
was covered with citron and violet morocco; the nails were of
silver. If Madame de Verrue has met the Baroness Bernstein, their
conversation in the Elysian Fields must be of the most gallant and
interesting description.
Another literary lady of pleasure, Madame de Pompadour, can only be
spoken of with modified approval. Her great fault was that she did
not check the decadence of taste and sense in the art of
bookbinding. In her time came in the habit of binding books (if
binding it can be called) with flat backs, without the nerves and
sinews that are of the very essence of book-covers. Without these
no binding can be permanent, none can secure the lasting existence
of a volume. It is very deeply to be deplored that by far the most
accomplished living English artist in bookbinding has reverted to
this old and most dangerous