THE CARE OF BOOKS--(_Continued_)
'In the name of Christ all men I pray,
No wight this book doth carry away,
By force or theft or any deceit.
Why not? Because no treasure so sweet
As my books, which the grace of Christ display.'
(_Written in Latin hexameters at the end of
the Leechbook of Bald._)
THERE can be no subject of such prime importance to the collector as the
housing of his books. In most cases the books themselves have small say
in the matter, for a certain room in the house is allotted to them
without any consideration as to its suitability for storing books, and
there they must abide, making such shift as their possessor shall
determine. This must always be the case where their owner is in lodgings
or in any temporary abode, where it is not considered worth while going
to the expense of putting up permanent shelves for his books. But, after
careless handling, there is nothing that ruins books more quickly than an
indifference to their well-being; and unless our volumes are constantly
placed in their proper position, that is upon their _feet_, they will age
speedily and visibly both inside and out.
'The surest way to preserve your books in health is to treat them as you
would your own children,' wrote that great bibliophile, William Blades;
and the care which should ever be bestowed upon ancient volumes cannot be
too strongly emphasised. And it is not only 'ancient' volumes that
require attention. Cloth bindings are hardly so durable as leather, and
without proper care a library of modern books can be reduced to wreckage
in a year. It is just as easy to provide proper accommodation for one's
books, wherever one may be living, as it is to provide comforts for
oneself. Treat your books well and they will last you all your life,
giving pleasure every time that you may take them in your hands. Remember
also that although one may judge the propensities of a collector from the
titles of his volumes and his character from their contents, yet there is
nothing which indicates his habits so surely as the external appearance
of his books. Whenever our book-hunter enters the library of a
fellow-bookman he can gauge at once the depths of his feelings towards
books, let alone the extent of his bibliographical knowledge.
Surely no man is such a giant among his fellows that he may allow the
life-works of the greatest geniuses of this world to be spurned
underfoot? 'Take thou a book into thine hands,' wrote Thomas a Kempis,
'as Simeon the Just took the Child Jesus into his arms to carry him and
kiss him.'
What true book-lover could find it in his heart wantonly to injure a good
book? '. . . as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book,' wrote Milton
in that oft-quoted passage in his Areopagitica; 'who kills a Man kills a
reasonable creature, God's Image; but hee who destroyes a good Booke
kills Reason itselfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye. Many
a man lives a burden to the Earth; but a good Booke is the pretious
life-blood of a master spirit, imbalm'd and treasur'd up on purpose to a
Life beyond Life.'
It is not only the critic who destroys books, for neglect may approach
dangerously near to wanton destruction. At the least, he who regards not
the welfare of his books is an accessory before the fact of their
destruction. 'Books,' says that veteran bibliophile M. Octave Uzanne,
'are so many faithful and serviceable friends, gently teaching us
everything through their persuasive and wise experience.' Surely if good
books are so much to us, such a great part of our lives, it behoves us to
respect them not a little. Have they not taught us, guided us, advised
us, soothed us, and amused us from our youth up? And is it meet that we
should repay their constant friendship with indignity?
'Thou, whosoever thou art that studiest in this book,' wrote an unknown
book-lover many centuries ago upon the margin of a favourite volume,
'take heed to turn the leaves lightly and smoothly, that thou mayest
avoid tearing them on account of their thinness; and seek to imitate the
example of Jesus Christ who, when He had gently opened the book of Isaiah
and read it with attention, at length closed it reverently and returned
it to the minister.'
On this subject of shelving our book-hunter can speak from experience,
for he has provided proper accommodation for a thousand to three thousand
volumes in three temporary abodes.[47] It takes a little time, a fair
amount of trouble, and an outlay of three or four pounds; but when once
accomplished such shelving is a thing of no small pride to oneself, and
the object of a good deal of admiration by one's friends. Briefly, the
plan he has always adopted is to erect shelves of pine or deal stained
brown, nine inches wide and five-eighths or three-quarters of an inch
thick, along the entire walls of his sanctum. It is firmly made and will
last a lifetime, yet it can readily be taken to pieces in a few minutes.
[Illustration: THE HOME-MADE LIBRARY]
In erecting such shelving the first thing to do is to estimate how many
feet of it you will require. On an average one foot will contain ten
octavo or quarto volumes or six folio ones. There should be ten inches
between the shelves for octavos, twelve inches for quartos, and
fourteen inches for folios: while at the bottom you may have a shelf
sixteen inches in height for such large folios as you may acquire or
already possess. Should the huge folios (almost folissimos) published by
the Record Commission in the early years of the nineteenth century fall
within the category of your collecting activities, you will require one
shelf at least no less than nineteen inches in height. If only for the
sake of your peace of mind I would strongly advise you not to begin
collecting early Spanish antiphonaries, such as you may see in the
Escurial; for these are frequently six feet high and four feet wide, and
are really out of place in the small domestic library. I forget for the
moment their precise dimensions in millimetres.
It is a mistake to have the top shelves too high. Not to speak of the
inconvenience of having to stretch upon tip-toe or mount a chair in order
to obtain a volume, your books will be subjected to a higher temperature
the nearer they are to the ceiling. Blades, in his 'Enemies of Books,' is
emphatic upon this point. 'Heat alone,' he says, 'without any noxious
fumes is, if continuous, very injurious to books; and, without gas,
bindings may be utterly destroyed by desiccation, the leather losing all
its natural oils by long exposure to much heat. It is, therefore, a great
pity to place books high up in a room where heat of any kind is used, for
it must rise to the top, and if sufficient to be of comfort to the
readers below is certain to be hot enough above to injure the bindings.'
Gas is one of the greatest enemies of books, the sulphur in the gas fumes
attacking the leather bindings readily, so that in time they are reduced
to tinder. So if gas be the illuminant in your study, see to it that no
volume of yours be above the level of the burner. In any case, if space
will permit, the highest shelf should not be more than six feet from the
ground. For similar reasons of temperature, the bottom shelves should be
six inches above the floor.
As to the actual length of the shelves, if constructed of wood
five-eighths of an inch thick _when planed_, they should not exceed two
feet two inches in length between supports. If made longer they will
gradually bend in the middle under the weight of the books and soon look
unsightly. But if made of three-quarter-inch wood, they may well be three
feet long.
Now as to the actual construction of the cases. We will suppose that the
entire case, that is shelves and uprights, is to be made of planks
five-eighths of an inch thick when planed. The first thing to do is to
estimate how many feet of timber you will require. Measure your wall
space. In calculating the length of shelving remember that each _upright_
is five-eighths of an inch thick; and in estimating the height of the
uprights, don't forget to add the thicknesses of the shelves to the
spaces between them. Perhaps the following example will be useful.
To find height of upright:--
Top shelf space 91/2in.
2nd shelf space 10 in.
3rd shelf space 10 in.
4th shelf space 10 in.
5th shelf space 12 in.
6th shelf space 14 in.
Height of lowest shelf from floor 6 in.
Thickness of 6 shelves, each 5/8in. 33/4in.
------
Height of upright--6ft., 31/4in.
------
The top shelf will be 5ft. 5in. from the ground.
The uprights must be two inches wider than the shelves in order that the
latter may not rest against the wall. There must always be a space
between shelves and wall to allow a free circulation of air about the
books. Therefore, let your uprights be eleven inches and your shelves
nine inches in width. In estimating the amount of timber required, don't
forget the top.
The manner in which the shelves are supported by the uprights is as
follows. Strips of wood five-eighths of an inch square and nine inches
long are screwed across the uprights, and on these the shelves rest. So
when you order the wood from your carpenter or timber merchant see that
he sends you also a sufficiency of these strips, two for each shelf.
The fixing of these strips will entail a certain amount of carpentry, and
in addition to bradawl, screwdriver, and footrule you will need a hard
pencil and a carpenter's square, as well as some stout iron screws one
inch long. Two screws are sufficient for each strip. If you are anything
of a carpenter you will countersink the holes for the heads of the
screws; this will also prevent a possible splitting of the strip.
When your carpentering is completed, the whole case must be stained to
your taste. For this purpose our book-hunter has found nothing so good as
the solution known as 'Solignum,' which may be purchased at any
ironmonger's. In addition to being a wood-preservative, it has the
advantage of being obnoxious to insects. It dries a pleasing brown, not
unlike old oak. The only objection to its use that he has discovered is
that it smells strongly, though not unpleasantly, for about a fortnight.
One coat is quite sufficient, and after a few days you may rub the
shelves with an old duster to remove any of the solution that has not yet
been absorbed.
The case should now be put together, the tops (which are in one piece,
the entire width of the case) and lowest shelves being screwed to the
uprights. The other shelves are merely rested on the strips. You will
find that if your floor be level, and you have sawn the bottoms of the
uprights squarely, there will be no necessity to affix the case to the
wall: the weight of the books alone will keep it in position. If the
floor proves uneven, small wedges underneath the uprights will be
sufficient.
You will find it an advantage to cover the shelves and their sides with
green baize. This protects the bindings of the books considerably, and it
is easily stuck on with glue. It has also the advantage of _holding_ the
dust which collects, and with the aid of a small 'vacuum-cleaner' such as
most households possess nowadays, the cases may be cleaned thoroughly
without removing a single shelf.[48] Felt would be better, but it is, of
course, much more expensive. Sir John Cheke, tutor to Edward the Sixth,
that learned man who, says Milton, 'taught Cambridge and King Edward
Greek,' used buckram. 'Among other lacks,' he writes from Cambridge in
1549 to a friend in London, 'I lack painted bucram to lai betweyne bokes
and bordes in mi studi, which I now have trimd. I have need of XXX
yardes. Chuse you the color.' But the buckram of his day was probably a
very different material from the cloth which we are accustomed to
associate with the binding of books. At all events I certainly should not
recommend its use when you trim your studi.
On no account must you paint or varnish your shelves, unless, of course,
you intend to cover them with baize or felt. However good the paint,
however hard the varnish, heavy leather-bound books will adhere to them
in course of time. So that when you come to remove a volume which you
have treasured in its ancient calf, you will find that the leather at the
bottom edges of the boards remains behind with the shelf. Therefore,
unless you intend to line them, let your shelves be stained or sparingly
polished only.
Care must be taken not to place any volume near wet or even damp
'Solignum.' Make sure that it is thoroughly dry or covered with baize
before you place a single volume on the shelves. Should you wish your
work to look particularly neat, you may putty over the heads of the
screws before you begin staining operations. An additional 'finish' is
given by numbering the cases with Roman numerals in gold upon small
stained blocks (about 2 inches by 11/4 inches) affixed to the top of each
case. The shelves may also be lettered with letters of the alphabet cut
out of gold paper.
But perhaps you may prefer to designate the cases of your library by the
names of ancient Rome, as was the practice followed notably in these days
in the library of Sir Robert Cotton. It is a pleasant conceit, and there
is certainly something more dignified about 'Vespasian, VII, 7,' or
'Cleopatra, IV, 26' than there is about a mere 'B, VI, 8,' or
'XIV, C, 16.' Asinius Pollio, that great warrior, historian, and
book-lover of the Augustan age, is said to have been the first to adorn
his library with portraits and busts of celebrated men as well as with
statues of Minerva and the Muses, an example that was soon followed by
others. Pollio was the first to found a public library at Rome, which he
endowed with the money obtained in his Illyrian campaign, says Pliny: but
in how many public libraries at the present day will you find a memorial
of this great patron of Virgil and Horace?
The effect of placing statuettes of marble or plaster, about sixteen
inches high, on the top of one's book-cases is singularly pleasing; and
there is an appropriateness about it to the eye that it is impossible to
describe. One may have beautiful reproductions of all the most famous
classical statues and busts for a few shillings. What can be more
appropriate than for Calliope to preside over your case containing Homer
and Virgil, Dante and Milton; or that Euterpe should be enthroned above
Theocritus and Horace, Shelley and Swinburne? You may carry your fancy on
these lines as far as you like, and you may include any figure that
pleases you, from the well-known 'Discobolus' (over your case of sporting
books!) to the exquisite statue which many still persist in calling the
'Venus de Milo.'[49]
A friend of our book-hunter has adopted a somewhat similar plan. Above
each case in his library he has placed an oaken shield on which are
emblazoned the arms of one of the ancient historic families of England,
such as Warren, Clare, Mortimer, or Doyly. The effect is striking, and
the bold colouring of fesses and chevrons lightens the sombre tone of the
mahogany cases. The shields are chosen for their distinctive features,
and, once learnt, it would be impossible in seeking 'Warr. C, 21' to
mistake the scarlet chevrons of Clare for the blue and white chess-board
coat of Warren.
On the matter of cases with glass doors we need not touch here; it has
been thoroughly debated by such masters as Blades and Lang. For the
storing of valuable books and bindings such cases are excellent, provided
always that there is a free circulation of air about the volumes, or that
the doors are opened every day. But for one who is at work continually in
his library, and is referring constantly to his books, the repeated
opening and closing of glass doors would be something more than
irritating. Charles V. of France had grilles of brass wire put in the
windows of his library in the Louvre, to preserve the books from the
attacks of 'birds and other beasts.' The document recording the payment
for this work makes the sinister remark that the books were in the tower
'devers la Fauconnerie.' Precisely what the clerk of the works thought we
shall never know; possibly he pictured a goshawk pouncing upon the
'veluyau ynde' in which some chubby duodecimo was clothed. In the end,
however, the 'oyseaux et autres bestes' had to make room for the books;
and the Tour de la Fauconnerie, known thenceforth as the Tour de la
Librairie, was panelled throughout with 'bois d'Irlande,' carved and
inlaid (as it seems) with cypress wood. However, this was so long ago as
1368.
We must now turn to another important matter--perhaps the most important
subject to the collector after the housing of his volumes--namely, the
binding of his books. It is a subject that is naturally of the greatest
moment to the bibliophile, for it is as essentially a part of his
volumes as are their leaves and print. It is constantly before him, and
will continue to occupy his thoughts to the end of his book-collecting
career. So often, however, has it been treated, so many are the books
upon it by skilled craftsmen, that it were needless (and, indeed,
presumptuous for the writer) to enter into any details here concerning
its methods. I would strongly urge every young collector, however, to
make himself thoroughly acquainted with the craft so far as can be done
without actually becoming apprentice to a bookbinder. Bookbinding is
taught nowadays at most of the County Council Schools of Technics
throughout the kingdom; and there are opportunities in this direction for
the young bibliophile to-day which his elder brethren regard with envy.
Even where such practical instruction is unobtainable it is possible to
acquire a quite considerable knowledge of the craft by a diligent study
of practical text-books and the scrutinous handling of volumes bound in
all ages. As he reads each page, each section of his manual, the
collector should examine repeatedly the volumes lying by his side. Our
book-hunter began his study of bookbinding with a small and excellent
text-book by Mr. Joseph Zaehnsdorf, a member of the well-known firm of
binders (sm. 8vo, 3rd ed. 1897); but it has perhaps been superseded by
the more recent work of Mr. Douglas Cockerell, namely, 'Bookbinding and
the Care of Books,' a perfectly invaluable little book to the collector
(sm. 8vo, 4th ed. 1915, published by Mr. John Hogg, Paternoster Row). A
diligent application to this book and constant reference to bound volumes
during his perusal will teach the collector sufficient about the binding
of books for his purpose. He will be able to distinguish between a cased
and a bound book, a well-bound and a badly-bound volume, good and bad
sewing, tooling, etc.; and he will learn the advantages of the solid
back.
Now he may turn to the valuable work by Mr. H. P. Horne entitled 'The
Binding of Books' (8vo, 1894) from which he will learn a great deal that
is of interest concerning the history of binding. An excellent pamphlet
on bookbinders and the history of their craft, by Mr. W. H. J. Weale, was
issued in 1898 by the authorities of the Victoria and Albert Museum at
South Kensington. It was published at one shilling, and consists of 130
pages with illustrations of binders' stamps and tools, and has an
excellent index. At the time of writing it is still in print. But you
will find valuable lists of works on the history and practice of
bookbinding in Mr. Cyril Davenport's delightful volume 'The Book: its
History and Development' (8vo, 1907, Messrs. Constable and Co.). And
there are two small volumes on the qualities of the modern book-binding
leathers which the collector will do well to read, mark, learn and
inwardly digest at the outset of his bibliopegic studies. They are
'Leather for Libraries' (8vo, London 1905), by a committee of the Library
Association, and the Report of the Committee of the Society of Arts on
Leather for Bookbinding, also octavo, London 1905.
Now as to the practical application of his knowledge of bookbinding. He
will have realised at the outset of his career that unless a book be
strongly bound in leather at the first, much use will quickly reduce it
to the condition of a wreck. The British Museum authorities, recognising
this, wisely rebind in leather certain volumes published in cloth covers
which are to be placed on the shelves of the Reading Room. Where much use
is accorded to the volumes doubtless the ideal way, if one were possessed
of sufficient means, would be to purchase new books in quires only, and
to have them bound in vellum, pigskin or morocco straight away. With
regard to second-hand books (by which I mean old-time literature) these
would be rebound, similarly, before they were assigned places on the
shelves.
Fortunately, however, in the private library our volumes are immune from
that careless handling usually accorded to books by those who love not
learning for learning's sake, but look upon it as a necessary part of
their worldly education. Usually there is no need to rebind these
ancient tomes whose 'joints' are so delicately described by the
bookseller as 'tender': their very infirmity will ensure that they be
accorded careful handling. But there comes a time when the old fellow
succumbs to his arthrodial trouble, and there is nothing for it but to
send him to the binder that he may acquire a second youth. Then it is
that the collector's learning in the art of binding will prove of the
greatest use. He will take the patient in his hands, examine him
minutely, and write a long prescription which he will slip into the
volume opposite the title-page, before proceeding to wrap him up for the
journey. It will run something like this:
M. PASQUIER'S 'Recherches de la France'
Fo: Paris 1633.
To be bound in full Niger, dark brown (as I usually have it).
Solid back, big round bands.
All edges untouched.
Old marbled endpapers, cloth joints.
Blind panel and lozenge tooling on sides
(like the pattern you have of my big Menestrier).
On the back a broad gold line either side of each band.
Panels plain.
To be lettered (thick fount)
RECHERCHES
DE LA FRANCE
and in the middle panel
PASQUIER.
The engraved portrait facing the title-page to be washed and sized.
Tears on pp. 721, 723 to be mended.
Pigskin, vellum, and morocco (by which I intend goatskin): there are no
alternatives if durability be our aim; calf, of course, we have learnt
long ago to eschew. No leather, except Russia, perishes more quickly or
more easily. Rather have a book bound in cloth than in calf any day.
Buckram is good and stands fairly rough handling; it is useful for
binding catalogues and cheap books. See that your binder gives you good
thick boards when he clothes your books in buckram.
Years ago, when books were most commonly bound in calf, a custom arose of
stamping the lettering on thin pieces of leather of a different colour
from the binding, and these were stuck on to the back of the book. There
is no doubt that these leather labels have _sometimes_ a pleasing effect,
and for a time the custom was very popular. But it is a bad habit.
Besides the meretricious effect generally produced, the paste which holds
the label to the back of the book perishes in time, and the label drops
off. A visit to any large second-hand bookshop will afford an admirable
illustration of the result of this habit. Here one may see sets of
Shakespeare's works and other classics which present a most woebegone
appearance owing to several of the volumes having shed their labels. The
only excuse for this custom that I have ever heard urged, is that one
always knows when to rebind volumes so adorned: it is when the labels
begin to fall.
As to the merits and demerits of the different coloured moroccos, you
will find these fully dealt with in the bookbinding manuals. White and
black we are warned against especially. The bookbinding authorities tell
us that vellum, if exposed to a strong light, perishes and chips off like
egg-shell; and we are warned to place vellum bound volumes with their
backs to the wall, lettering the fore-edge with pen and ink, as was often
done of old. But if kept away from the windows this precaution seems to
be unnecessary. The beautiful brown vellum used for binding and repairing
old books by Messrs. John Ramage and Son is very attractive and is,
perhaps, as durable a binding as it is possible to have. Possibly other
bookbinders use it, though I do not remember to have seen it used by any
other firm. So far as I am aware this firm is the only one in London
capable of executing work of the very highest class at a price within the
means of the modest collector.
It has been said that there are only four bookbinders in London who may
be trusted not to mutilate a book, and that there are only two who have
any sense of design and harmony of colour. But this is not to be wondered
at when we consider that the majority of the bookbinders' customers know
nothing whatever of bookbinding good or bad, requiring only that their
volumes shall present a gorgeous appearance to the eye. Consequently the
ordinary binder is rarely called upon to pay those minute attentions to
detail demanded by a hypercritical collector. Bibliophiles are born, not
made, and it were foolish to expect that every bookbinder has the love of
books at heart. In nine cases out of ten it is our own fault if the
binder goes wrong, for it means that our instructions have been either
too meagre or lacking in a knowledge of technical detail.
When sending a book to the binder, definite instructions should always be
enclosed. The details should be set forth clearly on a slip accompanying
the volume. It should be stated:
(i) Whether the book is to be bound in pigskin, vellum, or
morocco (Levant, Niger, smooth or rough grained).
(ii) The colour.
And here let me say that it is always better to choose the leather (the
actual skin) oneself. The binder will make up two little books, lettered
with the collector's name on the cover, containing moroccos of different
hues; one he will give to the collector, the other he will retain. As
every sample in these books is numbered, when ordering it is merely
necessary to give the number (written _very distinctly_!). It is perhaps
superfluous to add that, at the outset, the collector will have obtained
a guarantee from his binder that only acid-free skins shall be used in
binding his books. And he will also be careful to avoid selecting the
very bright tints, such skins not being so durable as those of more
sombre hue.
(iii) Whether quarter, half, or whole binding.
(iv) If quarter or half binding, whether the sides are to be
covered with cloth (buckram or linen, and colour) or paper
(marbled or plain, and colour).
(v) Treatment of the edges: whether top edge gilt (t.e.g.), all
edges gilt, gilt on red, gilt on the rough, marbled, sprinkled,
yellow, red, or blue edges (the last two very effective on folio
books bound in pigskin), edges trimmed or untrimmed, uncoloured,
etc.
(vi) Round or square back.
(vii) Solid or hollow back.
(viii) Round or square raised bands, big or small, or 'no bands'
(_i.e._ not showing).
(ix) End-papers (white, plain coloured or marbled).
(x) Whether, in the case of a large book, it is to have cloth
joints (inside the covers).
(xi) Design in gold or blind tooling on sides and back.
(xii) Lettering on back. This should be given in capital letters
precisely as it is desired to appear. If any lettering is
required in a panel other than the title-panel (second from top),
it should be stated which one; the number of the volume or the
author's name is put sometimes in the third panel from the top
and sometimes in the fourth.
(xiii) Leaves to be mended, cleaned, or pressed; and any
directions regarding illustrations, maps, etc.
A goodly list? Yes, but a necessary one unless one is content to leave
these things to the binder's discretion. He _may_ be one of the two who
are said to possess 'a sense of design and harmony of colour'; but unless
the collector has enclosed instructions as to all these points, if on its
return the appearance of the book displease him he has only himself to
blame.
The care which the book-lover bestows upon his volumes should not end,
however, when they return from the binder. Unless attended to from time
to time a leather binding--however good the leather--will perish,
probably, within a lifetime. Vellum, apparently, is everlasting, provided
it be kept away from the light and not exposed to great changes of
weather or temperature. But pigskin, goatskin, and of course calf, in
time lose by evaporation certain fats which are inherent in the leather.
Some collectors use furniture-polish or brown boot-polish to brighten up
dingy old bindings, and this certainly has a pleasing (and often
surprising) effect. But it is a bad practice, for the polish hardens the
leather, which soon cracks worse than before. 'It would add immensely to
the life of old leather bindings,' writes Mr. Cockerell, 'if librarians
would have them treated, say once a year, with some preservative.' And he
goes on to recommend that the bindings be rubbed over with a solution of
paraffin wax dissolved in castor oil. Our book-hunter has used a
preparation of glycerine for some years with success, but the paraffin
wax promises to evaporate less rapidly. Old calf bindings should be
treated at least once every year.
What shall we do with our volumes in 'original boards, uncut' when their
paper backs become tattered, their labels illegible? Is there no other
treatment for them than a visit to the binder's? That depends entirely
upon one's energy, one's capacity for taking pains, one's neatness of
finger, and the time at one's disposal. As I have said, the pleasure in
handling volumes so attired is sufficient excuse for a desire to retain
them in their original condition as long as possible. There is a facility
in opening, a lightness in holding, and a simple charm in their
appearance that is unknown to their more richly clad brethren. Our
book-hunter for his part has long since given up sending such volumes to
the binder's. Let the adept exercise his craft upon tomes in worn-out
leather bindings; with the repairing of books in their original boards
our amateur himself will deal.
It is not a difficult matter, and it can be done by the bibliophile at
home. The first requisites are some sheets of strong, tough paper, brown
and coloured. These can be procured for a few pence from any
paper-merchant or place where they sell wrapping-paper. A pot of
'Stickphast' paste, a pencil, a ruler, a pocket-knife, and a pair of
scissors are the accessories. Sometimes it is necessary only to re-back
the volume. This is a simple matter. First of all the tattered paper on
the back is scraped off, then a strip of brown or coloured paper is cut
the required width and an inch and a half longer than the height of the
volume. Cover the strip with paste, then take the volume in your left
hand and paste the back and half an inch on to the sides, having first of
all placed a sheet of clean paper, slightly larger than the book, inside
the cover at each end (_i.e._ under the boards). This is to prevent
soiling.
Now press the back of the book on to the strip, lying on the table ready
pasted, so that it adheres; and with your right hand press the sides of
the strip over on to the sides of the book. Experience will quickly teach
you that if you use too much paste you will make a mess; whilst if you
use too little the strip will not stick. If the paper is very thick it is
necessary to rub the paste well into it.
Next put the back of the book upon the table (which we trust you have
covered with a newspaper) and allow the boards to fall flat, holding the
leaves upright. Now comes the tricky part of the business: you have got
to fold the projecting ends of the new back _over_ the top and bottom of
the boards and _under_ the body of the book. If this is not quite lucid,
get a volume in boards and hold it as we have directed, you will soon see
what is meant. It is a ticklish operation and the paper is easily torn if
too thin _or too damp_. It also requires some patience, for probably you
will find that the strip has come away from the sides during your
manipulations. Press it down again and do the other end. Pressing and
pulling gently and kneading are the secrets of success. A small rubber
squeegee such as photographers use is useful here. With it you can press
out the superfluous paste under the sides of the strip; but it must be
used cautiously and not too hard.
Now close the volume, not forgetting to insert sheets of clean paper
between boards and leaves at either end, take it up again in your left
hand, and pat and finger it carefully till you are satisfied that all is
well. Then remove a volume of similar thickness from a rather tightly
packed shelf, and insert your patient in its place _as far as the strip_.
Leave it here to dry for at least twenty-four hours.
If the original paper label is legible and intact, it can be easily
soaked off the tattered back, though you may have to operate first of all
with the pocket-knife to remove it entire from the book. Press it between
blotting-paper and allow it to dry naturally. When the new back is dry
(not before) the label may be pasted on to it. If, however, the label is
missing or too tattered to be of service, there is nothing for it but to
write another one with your best penmanship, copying the original, if you
have it, in facsimile. Such labels should be written with Indian
(_waterproof_) ink upon rather thin paper of a different colour from the
back. Light buff is the most useful colour, though pale blue and light
green can be used sometimes with advantage.
Should you wish to make your work look extra neat, and to disguise the
fact that the volume has been rebacked, it is possible sometimes to raise
the end-papers at the inner corners of the boards, so that the projecting
ends of the backing-strip may be tucked under. So much for rebacking.
Sometimes, however, the boards are too dirty or broken to be retained, or
some of the boards in a set of volumes are missing. Then there is nothing
for it but to provide new boards or patch up and re-cover the old ones.
Here again the labour is not very great. New boards may be cut from a
cardboard box of suitable size and thickness. Those used by dressmakers
are not very suitable, the card being generally too soft. If your volume
lacks one or both boards, paste the back with stickphast, and then press
on to it a strip of very thin linen (a strip torn from an old cambric
handkerchief serves admirably) about two inches wider than the back and
an inch shorter than the height of the book. The linen will project an
inch on either side of the back. Now put the volume aside to dry.
When the back is dry, having provided suitable boards, paste the linen
sides on the underside of each board, _i.e._ so that when the book is
shut, the linen is between leaves and board. The best way to do this is
to take a volume of similar thickness, cover it with newspaper, and place
it flat upon the table with its fore-edge to the back of the 'patient.'
Then lay the board on the supporting volume, and so paste the linen to
it. Do one side after the other, stand the book 'ajar,' and allow to dry.
Now you may proceed just as in re-backing, covering the boards first of
all by pasting over them a rather thin but _opaque_ paper. You will find
the squeegee useful here. These side-papers are measured and cut one inch
larger than the volume at head, foot, and fore-edge. The projecting edges
are folded over the boards and rubbed down with the squeegee. The corners
need some attention and pressing.
When you have re-backed your book and all is dry, you will have to
provide it with end-papers. Any opaque white paper will do, provided it
is not too stiff. That used for lining chests of drawers will answer the
purpose, though a paper of slightly better quality is preferable. Measure
it carefully about one-eighth of an inch less at head and foot than the
height of the book. You need not trouble about the width: so long as the
free edge projects beyond the fore-edge when you close the book it can be
cut level afterwards. Do not use too much paste, and crease the paper
carefully along, and slightly into, the 'joint' with an ivory paperknife.
Do not close the book until it is dry.
Whenever you may have occasion to add new end-papers, remember to
preserve all indications of the pedigree of your book, by which I mean
traces of previous ownership. If there be a bookplate, soak it off, and
when dry paste it inside the end cover. If there be autographs of
interest on the boards, soak the paper off, cut out the writing and paste
it back again when you have finished the book.
When you have provided your volume with new boards, however, you may
prefer to clothe it in a 'whole binding'; that is, to use a single piece
of paper to cover both back and sides. This is slightly more difficult
and some little patience is needed; but when successfully accomplished
the effect repays one amply. Lay your book on a sheet of coloured paper,
so that the boards are flat whilst you are holding the leaves
perpendicularly; then pencil and rule lines all round, leaving a margin
of about three-quarters of an inch. Cut out this piece, paste it, paste
the back and boards, and lay the book down again on the paper just as you
did to begin with. The book is held in this position with either hand
whilst the edges are turned up over the boards. It takes a little
practice, and one requires some experience in the shrinkage of the paper
used. Old boards that have their corners broken can be easily repaired by
the use of plenty of paste rubbed well into the breaks, and by using
fairly strong covering paper.
There is another matter of which mention must be made here, for it is a
necessary adjunct to the binding of books, and that is cleaning, or
washing, as it is generally called. Often one comes across leaves in a
volume that are stained or spotted in such a manner as to spoil the
appearance of the book which otherwise is perfect. Such blemishes can
usually be removed when the volume is rebound. Either it is not such a
difficult matter as many who have written of these things would have us
believe, or else our book-hunter has been singularly fortunate. For he
confesses to having achieved considerable success in this direction. Like
all other matters involving care and thoroughness, it takes a good deal
of time, and no small amount of trouble; but apart from these
considerations there is no reason why any bibliophile endowed with
patience and a capacity for taking pains, should not attend to the
washing of his more 'grubby' volumes himself.
It is not the writer's intention here to go into the various processes
employed, for that has been done already by experienced bookbinders; but
perhaps the methods which he has employed successfully may be of interest
and, possibly, of some use to beginners.
Perhaps it is hardly necessary to say that your first experiments should
be made upon books of no value whatever, preferably volumes that have
been picked out of the penny tub for this purpose. You will also have
procured (if indeed you do not already possess) a copy of Mr. Douglas
Cockerell's invaluable little book which I have already mentioned, and
have studied it as has been suggested above. Mr. Zaehnsdorf's work also
contains a chapter on this subject.
The paraphernalia required are not numerous or expensive, for they
consist merely of three or four wide-mouthed glass-stoppered bottles in
which to store your chemicals, and a few photographer's developing dishes
(the _deep_ ones, of white porcelain) of a suitable size for octavo,
quarto, or folio leaves.
Obviously the first thing to do is to remove from the book the leaf or
leaves that require cleaning. Unless, like Gerard de Leew, the Antwerp
printer, you are 'a man of grete wysedom in all maner of kunnyng,' you
will not attempt to clean the leaves of a book _in situ_. In fact he
would be a very brave (or foolish) man who, without great experience,
tried to remove any sort of stain from a page without removing the leaf
first of all. Our own experience is that it is better to pull the whole
book to pieces--or rather _take_ it to pieces, for the word 'pull' in
this connection makes one shudder. Carefully cut the threads that hold
the quires to the bands, and little by little remove each quire. If the
book is in an old leather binding, with a solid back, your task will be
no easy one, for it is necessary to scrape away the glue from the back
after it has been damped. A cloth dipped in very hot water and wrung out
_tightly_ is sometimes of use here, but you must use the greatest
caution.
Having removed the leaf, or rather sheet of four pages (we will suppose
that the volume has been 'cut') that requires cleaning, you have now to
diagnose its complaint and prescribe the correct remedy, which you will
have learnt from the text-books we have mentioned. But if the leaf is not
merely stained in part, but altogether brown and discoloured, the
following treatment probably will prove efficacious. Put half an ounce of
permanganate of potash in a jug that holds about a pint and a half, and
fill it up with hot water. Stir with a piece of wood until the
permanganate is dissolved. Then lay your sheet in a developing dish and
pour the hot solution in gently, taking care that there are no bubbles
and that the leaf is completely covered. At the end of five minutes (or
ten if the paper is thick and heavily sized) pour back the liquid into
the jug, and, holding the dish over a sink, let cold water run across it
in a gentle stream until _all_ the permanganate is washed away.
The leaf will now be stained a deep brown. Stand the dish on end (the
leaf of course sticks to the bottom of the dish) to drain while you
prepare the bleaching part of the operation. Now take a similar jug, put
half an ounce of oxalic acid into it, and again fill up with hot water.
Pour this (hot but not boiling) over the leaf as before. When the leaf is
as white as the dish itself, which will take from five minutes to a
quarter of an hour, pour off the solution and wash the surplus fluid
away. Then let the leaf wash in gently running water for one hour. Our
book-hunter always uses the bath for this purpose, but a tin foot-bath
under a tap does excellently. The best way to dry the leaf is to press it
gently between two sheets of unused blotting-paper, then remove the upper
sheet and allow the leaf to dry naturally. Remember, however, that after
any washing or bleaching, leaves must always be 'sized' to give back to
the paper that substance which the washing has taken out. You will find
full instructions for doing this in the text-books I have mentioned. It
is quite a simple matter.
Mr. Cockerell recommends that the permanganate bath be only 'warmed
slightly,' and that the leaf be left in it for 'about an hour.' Our
book-hunter has found (fortunately not to his cost, for the volumes
which he used for experimental purposes were valueless) that this
sometimes rots the paper, and on one occasion the leaves at the end of an
hour came to pieces when the solution was poured off. If used hot and
quickly it does not seem to injure the paper, but the water must never be
so hot that you cannot bear your finger in it, and you must take care
never to use a _stronger_ solution. A strong solution of permanganate
will reduce paper to pulp in a few minutes. For similar reasons our
bookman prefers oxalic to sulphurous acid, but this too must never be
used stronger than I have indicated. I hasten to add, however, in
deference to such an excellent authority, that our book-hunter does not
_recommend_, but merely states the methods with which he personally has
been successful.
The most difficult stains to remove that the writer has yet come across
are those made by a child's paint-box. Some colours are easily removed,
but seventeenth-century gamboge is a perfect beast. The only successful
way to deal with these 'stains' is by studying the chemistry of the
'colours,' and the re-actions of the chemicals of which they are made.
With a little experimenting there is no reason why any of these pigments
should not be removed successfully, and at some future period of leisure
our book-hunter hopes to record his own experiences in this matter.
Here a word of warning. Do not handle permanganate of potash in the room
where your bleached leaves are drying. If you do probably you will be
annoyed to find small purple specks on the leaves where the fine
permanganate dust has settled. It is unpleasant stuff to use, and stains
everything with which it comes into contact. Undoubtedly it is at its
best in a closely stoppered bottle. Rubber gloves would be useful, if
they did not make one 'all thumbs.' Remember that oxalic acid will remove
the stains from your hands just as well as from paper--also that it
bleaches carpets. (Item, don't conduct your operations in the
dining-room.) The best thing with which to handle the leaves when wet is
a broad flat bone paper-knife with smooth edges. On various occasions
when our bookman has not had time to complete the bleaching process, he
has dried the leaves in their brown state and put them aside for a week
before bleaching. So far he has not found this to have any ill effect on
the paper, though possibly if kept for a longer period--especially if
they got damp--the permanganate might rot them.
A very hot and strong solution of alum I have used with success for
leaves that are more dirty than stained, and do not really require
bleaching. Ether is excellent for stains of a greasy nature, though some
may prefer the stains to the vapour which it gives off. With hydrochloric
acid, so strongly recommended by some, I have never had any success. If
used strong it destroys the paper, and if used weak the leaf has to be
left in it for so long as to reduce the paper almost to a pulp. Remember
that as a general rule, the shorter the process of washing the better.
Long immersion tends to rot the fibres of the paper. With regard to
staining the leaf so as to match the rest of the book, our book-hunter
generally uses a solution of cigarettes (Virginians are quite the best).
Possibly this is a very bad practice, but at least it is effective, the
stain diffuses easily, and it can be regulated to any shade. Coffee is
recommended by some.
Thumb-marks and the stains of dirty fingers are best removed by rubbing
them lightly (and very carefully) with one of those disc-shaped erasers
used by typists. These erasers remove the surface of the paper, so they
must be used with extreme caution.[50]
There is yet another byway of book-collecting which we must study before
we may graduate in book-lore. To the uninitiated the word 'bibliography'
conveys little more than a mere writing about books. But it is a vast
study, and, if we are to become proficient in it, one that will occupy us
for many years.
For the specialist there is no more delightful pursuit than the
compilation of a bibliography upon the subject of his choice. Not only
will it give him a sound bibliographical knowledge of the books which he
desires and hopes ultimately to possess, but it will enable him to
collate immediately every volume that he acquires. It will also open up a
new field of interest for the young collector, for he will be constrained
to study books from their material aspect; and with a knowledge of the
'natural history' of the book will come a regard for the well-being of
his volumes. So also will he be brought into touch with modern methods of
bibliography, and he will certainly find an additional interest in his
books.
The main objects of bibliography are, briefly, to determine
(i) Whether a book is genuine.
(ii) Whether it is complete and perfect.
(iii) Whether it is in its original condition, _i.e._ as it issued from
the press.
(iv) Whether it has been made up by the insertion of leaves or quires
from another copy or edition.
(v) To provide a standard collation (_i.e._ an accurate description of
the book in its original state) with which other copies may be compared.
For the purpose of the specialist we may add
(vi) To provide a bibliographical catalogue of those books in which he is
especially interested.
All this may sound very simple, but it must be borne in mind that where
no standard collation is available, the only method of providing one is
by a diligent, thorough, and precise study of the leaves, quires,
watermarks and 'make up' of a number of copies. As these things
frequently vary considerably in different copies of the same book, the
task of standardising a collation is by no means an easy one. The
difficulties that beset one in the case of early-printed books are
immense; but with the inconstancies of incunabula we are not concerned
here.
It is easily begun, this making of a bibliography, and it is a delightful
hobby, though necessarily it takes up a good deal of time. The plan which
our book-hunter adopted is as follows, and it has been so successful and
valuable to him that he has no hesitation in recommending it. First of
all he procured a card-index box capable of holding about a thousand
cards. Upon these he entered the books as he came across them in
catalogues of all sorts, under the authors' names. Thus:
DIAGO (FRANCISCO)
Historia de los Antiquos Condes de Barcelona
Fo: Barcelona, 1603.
After each he generally pencils the price and bookseller, or other
authority for the book's existence; but this is for his own guidance
only, and is by the way. A fresh card is used for every book. This forms
a rough index of every work upon his subject with which he is acquainted.
Now for the bibliography proper. For this our bookman uses single sheets
of paper, eight inches by five, ruled with feint lines. These are
contained in a 'spring-back' portfolio, thus forming a handy volume in
which pages can be inserted anywhere at will. At the top of the page he
writes the author's name, just as for the index, and beneath this
(leaving a line blank) he copies the title-page of the book _in extenso_,
using red ink for red print, capitals where capitals occur, and
underlining those words which are in italics. The end of each line is
indicated by a vertical stroke. Then follows a complete collation of the
book. The following illustration, however, will convey a better idea than
can be given in words. It will be noticed that after the size (which is
given in the English notation) the measurement _of the title-page_ in
millimetres is added within parentheses. If more than one copy has been
examined this measurement is of the largest. The reason why the
form-notation is given as well as the actual size, is because it is
easier to carry the form-notation in one's head.
BASNAGE (JACQUES)
DISSERTATION | HISTORIQUE | SUR LES DUELS | ET LES ORDRES | DE |
CHEVALERIE. | PAR MONSIEUR B... | (printer's device) | A AMSTER
DAM, | chez PIERRE BRUNEL, sur le Dam | a la Bible d'or. |
M.DCC.XX.
12^o (155 x 95), Amsterdam, 1720. pp: xvi, 163, x.
Title. 'Avertissement' (10pp.). Contents (4pp.). Pp: 1-163 Text.
Then ten pages (unnumbered) containing the 'Table des Matieres,'
which begins on page 163 (b). At the end is a blank leaf,
completing quire L. Reg: Prelim: *----* 8; Text and Index
A----L8, in eights. [A].
The author, Jacques Basnage de Franquenet, was born at Rouen in
1653, studied at Saumur, Geneva, and Sedan, and became a
Protestant minister in his native town. On the Revocation of the
Edict of Nantes he retired to Rotterdam, where he devoted his
life to literary researches. He died at the Hague in 1723. For
his great reputation as a skilful diplomatist, see Voltaire's
'Age of Louis XIV.'
Another edition of this work was published in octavo at Basle in
1740.
Whenever our book-hunter has an afternoon to spare, pocketing a handful
of cards from the index he sets off for the British Museum (or wherever
he may happen to be working at the time, where access may be had to the
volumes he requires) and settles himself to collate and copy title-pages.
But it must be borne in mind that the collation of any volume cannot be
considered as 'standard' until at least three copies of the book have
been examined, all of which are identical. The majority of the common
books printed after the year 1600 vary not at all in their make up; and
having once collated such a volume, the comparison with it of other
copies takes but a very few minutes. Sixteenth-century books, however,
especially those printed in the first half of the century, vary
sufficiently in their collations to demand a much more careful scrutiny.
If the volume under examination is a book of which different copies vary
considerably, you must naturally be exceedingly cautious in declaring
that your collation represents the form in which the book was issued from
the press. It is quite possible that you will find differences in each of
six copies.
At the end of each collation our book-hunter puts a letter or letters in
brackets to denote the habitations of the copies he has examined, the
tallest copy (of which the title-page's measurements are given) being
distinguished by an asterisk; thus: A, B*, N. 'A' represents our
book-hunter's own copy, 'B' that in the Bodleian Library, 'N' that in the
Bibliotheque Nationale; and so on. Mention, of course, from which copy
the collation has been taken is made in the text; or, if you prefer it,
you may denote this, so that it may be seen at a glance, by entering the
necessary distinguishing letter in _red_ ink.
As I have said, it is a fascinating pursuit, but unless the subject in
which you specialise is a narrow one, you may be overwhelmed by the
magnitude of the task. Take heed that you do not undertake more than you
have time or opportunity to complete; or else, embarking upon a labour of
Hercules you may liken yourself to Sisyphus. Mazzuchelli began 'Gli
Scrittori d'Italia,' but succeeded in finishing only the first two
letters of the alphabet. The temptation to leave behind us some great
work by which our name will become in time a household word, is doubtless
a great one; but gigantic though our _magnum opus_ may be in our own
estimation, it does not follow that others will set a like value upon
it, or, indeed, upon the labours of its author. Jean de la Haye, the
preacher in ordinary to Anne of Austria, published his _Biblia maxima_ in
nineteen folio volumes; but, says the bibliographer, 'no part of it is
esteemed except the _Prolegomena_, and even they are too diffuse.' Louis
Barbier gained the confidence of the Duke of Orleans by his great tact
(which probably amounted to servility) and skill in repeating the tales
of Rabelais. Mazarin appointed him Bishop of Langres for having betrayed
his master. When he died in 1670, he left a hundred crowns to whoever
would write an epitaph worthy of him. So Bernard de la Monnoye wrote the
following:
'Ci git un tres grand personnage,
Qui fut d'un illustre lignage,
Qui posseda mille vertus,
Qui ne trompa jamais, qui fut toujours fort sage,
Je n'en dirai pas d'avantage,
C'est trop mentir pour cent ecus.'
But whether Bernard got the legacy history does not relate.
It is astonishing, however, what can be accomplished in this direction by
diligence. Le Clerc, not content with having produced a 'Bibliotheque
Universelle et Historique,' laboured till he had given to the world a
'Bibliotheque Choisie' and a 'Bibliotheque Ancienne et Moderne,' in all
eighty-two duodecimo volumes! Beausobre and L'Enfant compiled a
'Bibliotheque Germanique,' comprising the period 1720-40; and published
it in fifty volumes. Baillet's 'Catalogue des Matieres' occupies
thirty-five folio volumes. But of course all these were mere lists and
criticisms of books, not detailed bibliographies of carefully collated
works.
It is a great gift, this gift of 'finding time.' 'When I see how much
Varro wrote,' says St. Augustine in his 'De Civitate Dei,' 'I marvel much
that ever he had any leisure to read; and when I perceive how many things
he read, I marvel more that ever he had any leisure to write.' The
creation of opportunity is no lesser gift. 'A wise man,' says Bacon,
'will make more opportunities than he finds.' Tomaso de Andrada, a
Portuguese Jesuit, wrote his _magnum opus_ in a dungeon, in chains,
without clothes, with little food, writing only in the middle of the day
by the help of a faint light which he received through an air-hole.
The compilation of bibliographies began early in the history of books,
and doubtless grew out of the catalogues which the early printers put
forth. Conrad von Gesner compiled a 'Bibliotheca Universalis' which was
printed at Zurich in four volumes between 1545 and 1555. Francois Grude
published a 'Bibliotheque Francoise' in 1584. It is a catalogue of French
authors and is not confined to any particular subject, but at least it is
a step in the direction of classification. From that date the number of
these invaluable works has steadily increased, and about the middle of
the seventeenth century L'Abbe put forth the first (?) of those useful
book-collector's aids, a 'Bibliotheca Bibliothecarum.' This interesting
little volume is really a list of books (under their authors' names)
which also contain lists of authors. As L'Abbe says in the preface to his
volume, so pleasantly dedicated 'Lectoribus Philobiblis,' he designs his
book to be a 'Bibliothecam Bibliothecarum, Catalogum Catalogorum,
Nomenclatorem Nomenclatorum, Indicem Indicum, et quid non?' The only
edition which I have seen was printed at Paris in 1664, but the licence
is dated 1651. Another edition was printed at Rouen in 1672, a third at
Leipzig in 1682, and a fourth some years later, all in duodecimo or small
octavo.
Grude's book is a choice one. It is entitled 'Le Premier Volume de La
Bibliotheque du Sieur de la Croix-du-Maine: Qui est un catalogue general
de toutes sortes d'Autheurs, qui ont escrit en Francois depuis cinq cents
ans et plus jusques a ce iourd'huy,' and was published at Paris 'Chez
Abel L'Angelier' in 1584. It is one of those folio volumes printed in
large pica on thick paper that delight the heart of the bibliophile and
are a joy to handle. At the back of the title-page is an oval portrait
of Henry of Navarre, dated 1581. He was not a handsome man, if one may
judge by this portrait, in fact it would be difficult to draw a more
repellent face; yet the book was dedicated to the king in a long 'Epistre
au Roy' which ends with the author's quaint anagram 'Race du mans, si
fidel a son Roy' (Francois de la Croix du Maine). But perhaps the
portrait was omitted in the royal copy. The work was to have been
completed in three volumes, of which the first two were to contain works
published in the vernacular, and the third those printed in Latin. But
alas! the author left only this first volume, which contains some three
thousand authors, with short biographies of them. One hesitates to
connect this premature end of the book (or, indeed, the author's
assassination six years later) with the unlucky portrait! Altogether a
very delightful volume.
Nowadays a bibliography that is not at once complete, detailed, and
meticulously accurate is of no value. In this critical age when the
methods of modern science are applied to books, it behoves the
bibliographer to be careful, thorough, and precise. Unless he can bring
these three attributes to bear upon his work, far better that he should
never undertake it; for the result will be not only valueless but
misleading, and he will certainly fail to obtain 'that lasting fame and
perpetuity of praise which God and good men have consented shall be the
reward of those whose published labours advance the good of mankind.'
There is one small appendage of the private library which must be
mentioned before we close the chapter. A list of the prices which he has
paid for his books forms a record that is indispensable to the
book-collector. It is impossible to carry all one's 'bargains' in one's
head, and if pencilled inside the book itself it is exposed to that
publicity which one naturally shuns. Such a record is of something more
than curious interest, for a knowledge of the rise or fall in the price
of those books in which he is interested is essential to the collector.
Whenever he comes across, in a bookseller's catalogue, a book that he
already possesses, he will like to know how the present price compares
with that which he gave for his copy.
A convenient shape for this useful book is an ordinary folio account book
(our book-hunter's measures 15 inches x 91/2 inches), and it should be
ruled for 'cash,' with an inner margin. Between the inner margin and
(outer) cash column he rules two lines, dividing the middle of the page
into three columns, of which the left-hand one is the widest. The
illustration over-page will show you precisely what is meant. At the top
of each page is placed a letter of the alphabet, and, immediately beneath
or alongside this, the date of a year. In the inner margin each line is
numbered down the page. In the next column is written the author and
short title of the book--sufficient to identify it--then the place where
it was bought, then the date when purchased, and in the cash column the
price which was paid for it.
In our book-hunter's ledger the first few pages are headed
[Greek: Theta]
(_Books presented to me_)
and the next heading is
[Greek: Phi]
(_Books published by instalments, extending over several years_)
Then comes
A
1900
and so on, each year having a letter assigned to it.[51]
Now for the practical use of this ledger. Inside the front cover of every
one of his volumes our book-hunter affixes a book-plate; and in the
left-hand bottom corner of this he writes the year-letter and number of
the book's entry in his ledger: _e.g._ A 24, L 7, etc. Thus supposing
that one wishes to find out when and where one acquired a certain book
and how much was paid for it, one has only to raise the front cover of
the volume in question, and find its index mark. Suppose it to be 'E 28.'
Turning to our ledger we find that E represents the year 1904, and No. 28
is the volume in question. Similarly A 24 signifies No. 24 of 1900, L 7
is No. 7 of 1911, and so on. If your library be a large one, and a search
for the volume would entail trouble, you may conveniently pencil this
index mark against the book's entry in your catalogue, but in such a way
that it cannot be mistaken for the shelf-mark.
It is as well to write the entries in the ledger upon the recto of the
leaves only, so that the verso (being numbered like the _opposite_ recto)
may be used for recording the bindings, published prices, previous
owners, etc., of the volumes opposite. When all the letters of the
alphabet have been used up, they may be repeated doubled, as AA 4, DD 32,
etc.
C 1902 C
+------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|1. | Fuller's 'Holy Warre,' 1647 | Thorp, Guildford | 17th January | 9 | 0 |
|2. | Vredius--'Sigilla Com. Flandriae' | Poynder, Reading | 23rd January | 12 | 6 |
|3. | Anstis--'Observations on the Bath' | Harding, London | 3rd February | 2 | 0 |
|4. | | | | | |
|5. | | | | | |
|6. | | | | | |
|7. | | | | | |
|8. | | | | | |
|9. | | | | | |
|10. | | | | | |
|11. | | | | | |
|12. | | | | | |
|13. | | | | | |
|14. | | | | | |
|15. | | | | | |
|16. | | | | | |
|17. | | | | | |
|18. | | | | | |
|19. | | | | | |
|20. | | | | | |
|21. | | | | | |
|22. | | | | | |
|23. | | | | | |
|24. | | | | | |
|25. | | | | | |
|26. | | | | | |
|27. | | | | | |
|28. | | | | | |
|29. | | | | | |
|30. | | | | | |
|31. | | | | | |
|32. | | | | | |
|33. | | | | | |
|34. | | | | | |
|35. | | | | | |
|36. | | | | | |
+------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+
FOOTNOTES:
[47] It may be that you are contemplating the erection of shelves for
your books? If so, perhaps the writer's experience may save you some
little time and trouble. But if your treasures are already housed in a
manner fitting, then he will claim your indulgence and ask that you be so
good as to skip the next few pages.
[48] But as the shelves are not fixed to the uprights, it is a simple
matter to remove each shelf in turn from the room, and brush out the dust
with a stiff clothes-brush.
[49] It does not represent the Roman Venus, and there is no place named
'Milo.' Were the statue anywhere else than in the Louvre, probably it
would be known generally (as it is to scholars) by its proper name--the
Aphrodite of Melos.
[50] The writer possesses a copy of the first edition of "Mr. Sponge's
Sporting Tour," which is a perfect museum. At some period of its
existence it was relegated to the harness-room; and its leaves bear the
insignia of almost every known preparation used in dressing boots,
harness, saddles, buckles, dogs, horses' hoofs, and human hair. Not for
all the wealth of the Indies would he remove a single stain. Most of them
have been identified by his friends (it is feared with more regard for
humour than accuracy) in marginal notes. Sherlock Holmes would certainly
have considered it worthy of a monograph.
[51] I will not venture to suggest that you follow the example of a
book-collecting acquaintance who has an extra heading for 'Books that I
have _acquired_!'
[Illustration]