Enemies of Books [25]
shoemaker, John Bagford. His portrait, a half-length, painted by Howard, was engraved by Vertue, and re-engraved for the Bibliographical Decameron.
A bad example often finds imitators, and every season there crop up for public sale one or two such collections, formed by bibliomaniacs, who, although calling themselves bibliophiles, ought really to be ranked among the worst enemies of books.
The following is copied from a trade catalogue, dated April, 1880, and affords a fair idea of the extent to which these heartless destroyers will go:--
"MISSAL ILLUMINATIONS.
FIFTY DIFFERENT CAPITAL LETTERS _on_ VELLUM; _all in rich Cold and Colours. Many_ _3 inches square: the floral decorations are of great beauty, ranging from the XIIth to XVth century. Mounted on stout card-board_. IN NICE PRESERVATION, L6 6_s_.
These beautiful letters have been cut from precious MSS., and as specimens of early art are extremely valuable, many of them being worth 15_s_. each."
Mr. Proeme is a man well known to the London dealers in old books. He is wealthy, and cares not what he spends to carry out his bibliographical craze, which is the collection of title pages. These he ruthlessly extracts, frequently leaving the decapitated carcase of the books, for which he cares not, behind him. Unlike the destroyer Bagford, he has no useful object in view, but simply follows a senseless kind of classification. For instance: One set of volumes contains nothing but copper-plate engraved titles, and woe betide the grand old Dutch folios of the seventeenth century if they cross his path. Another is a volume of coarse or quaint titles, which certainly answer the end of showing how idiotic and conceited some authors have been. Here you find Dr. Sib's "Bowels opened in Divers Sermons," 1650, cheek by jowl with the discourse attributed falsely to Huntington, the Calvinist, "Die and be damned," with many others too coarse to be quoted. The odd titles adopted for his poems by Taylor, the water-poet, enliven several pages, and make one's mouth water for the books themselves. A third volume includes only such titles as have the printer's device. If you shut your eyes to the injury done by such collectors, you may, to a certain extent, enjoy the collection, for there is great beauty in some titles; but such a pursuit is neither useful nor meritorious. By and by the end comes, and then dispersion follows collection, and the volumes, which probably Cost L200 each in their formation, will be knocked down to a dealer for L10, finally gravitating into the South Kensington Library, or some public museum, as a bibliographical curiosity. The following has just been sold (July, 1880) by Messrs. Sotheby, Wilkinson and Hodge, in the Dunn-Gardinier collection, lot 1592:--
"TITLEPAGES AND FRONTISPIECES.
_A Collection of upwards of_ 800 ENGRAVED TITLES AND FRONTISPIECES, ENGLISH AND FOREIGN (_some very fine and curious) taken from old books and neatly mounted on cartridge paper in 3 vol, half morocco gilt. imp. folio_."
The only collection of title-pages which has afforded me unalloyed pleasure is a handsome folio, published by the directors of the Plantin Museum, Antwerp, in 1877, just after the purchase of that wonderful typographical storehouse. It is called "Titels en Portretten gesneden naar P. P. Rubens voor de Plantijnsche Drukkerij," and it contains thirty-five grand title pages, reprinted from the original seventeenth century plates, designed by Rubens himself between the years 1612 and 1640, for various publications which issued from the celebrated Plantin Printing Office. In the same Museum are preserved in Rubens' own handwriting his charge for each design, duly receipted at foot.
I have now before me a fine copy of "Coclusiones siue decisiones antique dnor' de Rota," printed by Gutenberg's partner, Schoeffer, in the year 1477. It is perfect, except in a most vital part, the Colophon, which has been cut out by some barbaric "Collector," and which should read thus: "Pridie nonis Januarii Mcccclxxvij, in Civitate
A bad example often finds imitators, and every season there crop up for public sale one or two such collections, formed by bibliomaniacs, who, although calling themselves bibliophiles, ought really to be ranked among the worst enemies of books.
The following is copied from a trade catalogue, dated April, 1880, and affords a fair idea of the extent to which these heartless destroyers will go:--
"MISSAL ILLUMINATIONS.
FIFTY DIFFERENT CAPITAL LETTERS _on_ VELLUM; _all in rich Cold and Colours. Many_ _3 inches square: the floral decorations are of great beauty, ranging from the XIIth to XVth century. Mounted on stout card-board_. IN NICE PRESERVATION, L6 6_s_.
These beautiful letters have been cut from precious MSS., and as specimens of early art are extremely valuable, many of them being worth 15_s_. each."
Mr. Proeme is a man well known to the London dealers in old books. He is wealthy, and cares not what he spends to carry out his bibliographical craze, which is the collection of title pages. These he ruthlessly extracts, frequently leaving the decapitated carcase of the books, for which he cares not, behind him. Unlike the destroyer Bagford, he has no useful object in view, but simply follows a senseless kind of classification. For instance: One set of volumes contains nothing but copper-plate engraved titles, and woe betide the grand old Dutch folios of the seventeenth century if they cross his path. Another is a volume of coarse or quaint titles, which certainly answer the end of showing how idiotic and conceited some authors have been. Here you find Dr. Sib's "Bowels opened in Divers Sermons," 1650, cheek by jowl with the discourse attributed falsely to Huntington, the Calvinist, "Die and be damned," with many others too coarse to be quoted. The odd titles adopted for his poems by Taylor, the water-poet, enliven several pages, and make one's mouth water for the books themselves. A third volume includes only such titles as have the printer's device. If you shut your eyes to the injury done by such collectors, you may, to a certain extent, enjoy the collection, for there is great beauty in some titles; but such a pursuit is neither useful nor meritorious. By and by the end comes, and then dispersion follows collection, and the volumes, which probably Cost L200 each in their formation, will be knocked down to a dealer for L10, finally gravitating into the South Kensington Library, or some public museum, as a bibliographical curiosity. The following has just been sold (July, 1880) by Messrs. Sotheby, Wilkinson and Hodge, in the Dunn-Gardinier collection, lot 1592:--
"TITLEPAGES AND FRONTISPIECES.
_A Collection of upwards of_ 800 ENGRAVED TITLES AND FRONTISPIECES, ENGLISH AND FOREIGN (_some very fine and curious) taken from old books and neatly mounted on cartridge paper in 3 vol, half morocco gilt. imp. folio_."
The only collection of title-pages which has afforded me unalloyed pleasure is a handsome folio, published by the directors of the Plantin Museum, Antwerp, in 1877, just after the purchase of that wonderful typographical storehouse. It is called "Titels en Portretten gesneden naar P. P. Rubens voor de Plantijnsche Drukkerij," and it contains thirty-five grand title pages, reprinted from the original seventeenth century plates, designed by Rubens himself between the years 1612 and 1640, for various publications which issued from the celebrated Plantin Printing Office. In the same Museum are preserved in Rubens' own handwriting his charge for each design, duly receipted at foot.
I have now before me a fine copy of "Coclusiones siue decisiones antique dnor' de Rota," printed by Gutenberg's partner, Schoeffer, in the year 1477. It is perfect, except in a most vital part, the Colophon, which has been cut out by some barbaric "Collector," and which should read thus: "Pridie nonis Januarii Mcccclxxvij, in Civitate