GROLIER AND HIS SUCCESSORS.
Jean Grolier, the prince of book-collectors, was born at Lyons in 1479.
His family had come originally from Verona, but had long been naturalised
in France. Several of his relations held civic offices; Étienne Grolier,
his father, was in charge of the taxes in the district of Lyons, and was
appointed treasurer of the Milanese territories at that time in the
occupation of the French. Jean Grolier succeeded his father in both these
employments. He was treasurer of Milan in 1510, when Pope Julius formed
the league against the French, which was crushed at the Battle of
Ravenna; and for nearly twenty years afterwards Grolier took a principal
part in administering the affairs of the province. Young, rich, and
powerful, a lover of the arts and a bountiful patron of learning, he
became an object of almost superstitious respect to the authors and
booksellers of Italy. He was eager to do all in his power towards
improving the machinery and diffusing the products of science. He loved
his books not only for what they taught but also as specimens of
typography and artistic decoration. To own one or two examples from his
library is to take high rank in the army of bookmen. The amateur of
bindings need learn little more when he comprehends the stages of
Grolier's literary passion, its fervent and florid beginnings, the
majesty of its progress, and its austere simplicities in old age.
Grolier was the personal friend of Gryphius, the printer of Lyons, and of
all the members of the House of Aldus at Venice. Erasmus, who was revered
by Grolier as his god-father in matters of learning, once paid a
compliment to the treasurer, which was not far from the truth. 'You owe
nothing to books,' he wrote, 'but they owe a good deal to you, because it
is by your help that they will go down to posterity.' The nature of
Grolier's relations with the Venetian publishers appears in his letters
to Francis of Asola about the printing of a work by Budæus. He writes
from Milan in the year 1519: 'I am thinking every day about sending you
the "Budæus" for publication in your most elegant style. You must add to
your former favours by being very diligent in bringing out my friend's
book, of which I now send you the manuscript revised and corrected by the
author. You must take the greatest care, dear Francis, to present it to
the public in an accurate shape, and this indeed I must beg and implore.
I want beauty and refinement besides; but this we shall get from your
choice paper, unworn type, and breadth of margin. In a word, I want to
have it in the same style as your "Politian." If all this extra luxury
should put you to loss, I will make it good. I am most anxious that
the manuscript should be followed exactly, without any change or
addition; and so, my dear Francis, fare you well.' The book appeared with
a dedication to Grolier himself, in which Francis of Asola recounts the
many favours received by the elder Aldus in his lifetime, by himself, and
by his father Andreas. The presentation copy was magnificently printed on
vellum, with initials in gold and colours. Grolier inscribed it with his
name and device, so that it became easy to verify its subsequent history.
It appeared among the books of the Prince de Soubise, and belonged
afterwards to the Count Macarthy, and in 1815 was bought by Mr. Payne and
transferred to the Althorp Library.
[Illustration: BINDING EXECUTED FOR GROLIER.]
Grolier's books were generally stamped with the words '_et Amicorum_'
immediately after his name, to indicate as we suppose that they were the
common property of himself and his friends, although it has been
suggested that he was referring to his possession of duplicates. Another
of his marks was the use of some pious phrase, such as a wish that his
portion might be in 'the land of the living,' which was either printed on
the cover or written on a fly-leaf, if the volume were the gift of a
friend. In the use of these distinctions he seems to have been preceded
by Thomas Maioli, a book-collector of a family residing at Asti, of whom
very little is known apart from his ownership of books in magnificent
bindings. Grolier may have borrowed the phrase about his friends from a
celebrated Flemish collector called Marcus Laurinus, or Mark Lauwrin of
Watervliet, who was in constant correspondence with the Treasurer about
their cabinets of medals and coins. Rabelais had a few valuable books,
which he stamped with a similar design in Greek, and the Latin form
occurs in many other libraries. We are inclined to refer the origin of
the practice to a letter written by Philelpho in 1427, in which he tells
his correspondent of the Greek proverb that all things are common among
friends.
Grolier's love of learning is shown by his own letters, and by the
statements contained in the books that were so constantly dedicated to
his name. To Beatus Rhenanus he wrote, with reference to an approaching
visit: 'Oh, what a festal day, to be marked (as they say) with a pure
white stone, when I am able to pay my humble duty to my own Rhenanus; and
you see how great are my demands when you are entered as mine in my
accounts.' As controller of the Milanese district he became the object of
much adulation, for which his flatterers had to atone when the French
occupation came to an end. The dedication of a certain dialogue affords
an instance in point. Stefano Negri sent his book to Grolier in a
splendid shape. The presentation copy on vellum may be seen at the
British Museum among the treasures of the Grenville Library. The writer
represents himself in the preface as going about in search of a patron.
He sees Mercury descending from the clouds with a message from Minerva.
'There is one man whom the Goddess holds dear, struggling like Ulysses
through the flood of this stormy life: he is known as Grolier to the
world.' Nay, what need have you, says the author, to sing the praises of
that famous man? 'You must confess, even if you like it not, that he is
most noble in his country and family, most wealthy in fortune, and most
fair and beautiful in his bodily gifts.'
As patron of all the arts the treasurer became the friend of Francino
Gafori, the leader of the new school of music that was flourishing at
Milan. Gafori seems to have been often in Grolier's company. He dedicated
to the treasurer his work on the harmony of musical instruments, as well
as the _Apologia_ in which he afterwards convicted the Bologna school of
its errors. 'My work,' he says in his later book, 'is sound enough if
soundly understood'; and he tells his rival that, though he may writhe
with rage, the harmony of Gafori and the fame of Jean Grolier will live
for ever. The introduction to his work upon harmony contains a few
interesting details about Grolier's way of living at Milan. Gafori
addresses his book in a dialogue, and vows that it shall never come home
again if Grolier refuses to be the patron. A poetical friend adds a piece
in which the Muses appear without their proper emblems, and even Apollo
is bereft of his lyre. Gafori, they say, has taken away their harmonies
and will not give them back. They are advised to make their way to the
concert at Grolier's house, where the friend of the Muses sits among the
learned doctors. An illustration shows Gafori sitting at his organ and
the musicians with their wind-instruments at the end of the lofty hall.
Gafori himself, in another preface, declares that his musical offspring
can hardly be kept at home; they used to be too shy to go out, though all
the musicians were awaiting them; now that they have Grolier's patronage
they are all as bold as brass, and ready to rush through any danger to
salute their generous friend. The history of the copy presented to
Grolier is not without interest. After the great musician's death the
treasurer gave it to Albisse, one of the King's secretaries: Albisse in
1546 gave it to Rasse de Neux, a surgeon at Paris, who was devoted to
curious books; in 1674 it entered the library of St. Germain-des-Prés,
and was nearly destroyed more than a century afterwards in a great fire.
During the Revolution it was added to the collection at the Convent des
Célestins, and was afterwards deposited in the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal,
where we suppose that it still remains.
Grolier was fond of giving books to his friends. A commentary on the
Psalms with his name and device, now in the National Library at Paris,
bears an inscription showing that he had given it to a monk named Jacques
Guyard. He presented a fine copy of Marcus Aurelius to his friend Eurialo
Silvestri; and there are volumes bearing his name in conjunction with
those of Maioli and Laurinus which indicate similar gifts. He is known to
have presented several volumes to the President de Thou as a mark of
gratitude for assistance during his later troubles. It is somewhat
singular that Jacques-Auguste de Thou never succeeded in getting
possession of these books, though they had always been kept in his
father's library; and they were not, indeed, replaced in the 'Bibliotheca
Thuana' until it had become the property of the Cardinal de Rohan. It is
interesting to learn that a volume of Cicero was given by Grolier to the
artistic printer, Geoffroy Tory of Bourges, who designed the lettering of
his mottoes: they were of an antique or 'Roman' shape, and were in two
sizes, and proportioned, as we are told, 'in the same ratio to each other
as the body and face of a man.' Geoffroy Tory mentioned them in a letter
of the year 1523. 'It was on the morrow of the Epiphany,' says the
light-hearted artist, 'that after my slumbers were over, and in
consciousness of a joyous repast, I lay day-dreaming in bed, and twisting
the wheels of my memory round: I thought of a thousand little fancies
both grave and gay, and then there came before my mind those antique
letters that I used to make for my lord, Master Jean Grolier, the King's
councillor, and a friend of the _Belles Lettres_ and of all men of
learning, by whom he is loved and esteemed on both sides of the Alps.'
Another testimony comes from Dr. Sambucus, who knew Grolier well when he
was living in Paris, and used to be fond of inspecting his cabinet of
coins. In the last year of Grolier's life he received a book on the
subject with a dedication to himself by the worthy Doctor. Grolier was
reminded in the preface of their long talks on antiquarian subjects, and
of the kindness which Sambucus had received from the treasurer and the
treasurer's father at Milan. 'During the last three years,' says
Sambucus, 'I have been enriching my library, and I have added some very
scarce coins to the cabinet that you used to admire.' He adds a few
complaints about dealers and the tricks of the trade, which we need not
repeat. 'And now farewell!' he ends, 'noble ornament of a noble race, by
whose mouth nothing has ever been uttered that came not from the heart!'
Some account of Grolier's career is to be found in De Thou's great
history. He praised the 'incredible love of learning' that had earned for
a mere youth the intimate friendship of Budæus. He showed with what
administrative ability the Milanese territories were governed, and with
what dignity Grolier filled the high office of Treasurer at home.
Grolier, he says, built a magnificent mansion in the Rue de Bussy, which
was known as the Hôtel de Lyon; in one of its halls he arranged the
multitude of books 'so carefully, and with such a fine effect, that the
library might have been compared to that which Pollio established in
Rome'; and so great was the supply that, notwithstanding his many gifts
to friends and various misfortunes which befell his collection, every
important library in France was able after his death to show some of his
grand bindings as its principal ornament. Grolier's old age was
disturbed by imputations against his official conduct, and it seemed at
one time as if his fortune were in considerable danger. 'He was so
confident in his innocence,' said the historian,'that he would not seek
help from his friends; but he might have fallen at last, if he had not
been protected by my father the President, who always used his influence
to help the weak against the strong and the scholar against the ignorance
of the vulgar.' The old Treasurer kept his serene course of life until he
reached his eighty-sixth year: he died at his Hôtel de Lyon, surrounded
by his books, and was buried near the high altar in the Church of St.
Germain-des-Prés.
Upon Grolier's death his property was divided among his daughters'
families. Some of the books were certainly sold; but the greater part of
the library became the property of Méric de Vic, the old Treasurer's
son-in-law. Méric was keeper of the seals to Louis XIII. His son
Dominique became Archbishop of Auch. They were both fond of books, and
took great care of Grolier's three thousand exquisite volumes, of which
they were successively the owners. They lived in a large house in the Rue
St. Martin, which had been built by Budæus, and here the books were kept
until the great dispersion in the year 1676. 'They looked,' said
Bonaventure d'Argonne, 'as if the Muses had taken the outsides into their
charge, as well as the contents, they were adorned with such art and
_esprit_, and looked so gay, with a delicate gilding quite unknown to
the book-binders of our time.' The same visitor described the sale of
1676. All Paris was to be seen at the Hôtel de Vic. 'Such a glorious
collection ought all to have been kept together; but, as it was,
everybody got some share of the spoil.' He bought some of the best
specimens himself; and as he was only a poor monk of the Chartreuse the
prices can hardly have run high. M. Le Roux de Lincy has traced the fate
of the volumes dispersed at the sale. We hear, he says, of examples
belonging to De Mesmes and Bigot, to Colbert and Lamoignon, Captain du
Fay, the Count d'Hoym, and the Prince de Soubise. Some of the finest were
purchased by Baron Hohendorf and were transferred about the year 1720 to
the Imperial Library at Vienna. Yet they never rose to any high price
until the Soubise sale towards the end of the last century, when the
weight of the English competition for books began to be felt upon the
Continent.
M. de Lincy has traced the adventures of more than three hundred volumes,
once in Grolier's ownership, but now for the most part in public
libraries. The earlier possessors are classified according to the dates
of their purchases. Of those who obtained specimens soon after the old
Treasurer's death we may notice especially Paul Pétau the antiquarian, De
Thou the historian, and Pithou the statesman and jurist. Perhaps we
should add Jean Ballesdens, a collector of fine books and MSS., whose
library at his death in 1677 contained nine of Grolier's books, and
Pierre Séguier, to whom Ballesdens acted as secretary; and as Séguier was
the personal friend of Grolier, he may have been the original recipient
of some of the volumes in question.
Pierre Séguier founded a library which became one of the sights of Paris.
His grandson, Charles Séguier, the faithful follower of Richelieu, was
celebrated for his devotion to books. He used to laugh at his own
bibliomania. 'If you want to corrupt me' he would say, 'you can always do
it by giving me a book.' His house in the Rue Bouloi served as
headquarters for the French Academy before it gained a footing in the
Louvre; and on Queen Christina's visit in 1646 one of her first literary
excitements was to visit Chancellor Séguier's _salon_. The decorations
were considered worthy of being engraved and published by Dorigny. The
gallery stood between two large gardens. The ceilings were encrusted with
mosaics on a gold ground with allegorical designs by Vouet. The upper
story contained about 12,000 books, and as many more were ranged in the
adjoining rooms, one large hall being devoted to diplomatic papers, Greek
books from Mount Athos, and Oriental MSS. According to a description
published in 1684 a large collection of porcelain was arranged on the
walls above the book-cases and in cases set cross-wise on the floor: 'the
china covered the whole cornice, with the prettiest effect in the world.'
We are reminded of the lady's book-room which Addison described as
something between a grotto and a library. Her books were arranged in a
beautiful order; the quartos were fenced off by a pile of bottles that
rose in a delightful pyramid; the octavos were bounded by tea-dishes of
all shapes and sizes; 'and at the end of the folios were great jars of
china placed one above the other in a very noble piece of architecture.'
Among the purchasers at the later sale we may notice the witty Esprit
Fléchier, who bought several of the lighter Latin poets, being a
fashionable versifier himself and a dilettante in matters of binding and
typography. In his account of the High Commission in Auvergne, appointed
to examine into charges of feudal tyranny, the Abbé tells us how his
reputation as a bibliophile was spread by a certain Père Raphael at all
the watering-places, and how two learned ladies came to inspect his books
and carried off his favourite Ovid. His library was removed to London and
sold in the year 1725; and the occasion was of some importance as marking
the beginning of the English demand for specimens from Grolier's library.
Archbishop Le Tellier bought fifteen good examples, which he bequeathed
in 1709, with all his other books, to the Abbey of St. Geneviève. His
whole collection included about 50,000 volumes, mostly dealing with
history and the writings of the Fathers. 'I have loved books from my
boyhood,' he said, 'and the taste has grown with age.' He bought most of
his collection during his travels in Italy, in England, and in Holland;
but perhaps the best part of his store came from his tutor Antoine
Faure, who left a thousand volumes to the Archbishop, to be selected at
the legatee's discretion.
The most valuable portion of Grolier's library was bought by his friend
Henri de Mesmes. This included the long series of presentation copies,
printed on vellum, and magnificently bound. De Mesmes was a collector
with a love of curiosities of all kinds. He seems to have been equally
fond of his early specimens of printing, his Flemish and Italian
illuminations, and the Arabic and Armenian treatises procured by his
agents in the East. His library became a valuable museum which was
praised by all the writers of that age, except indeed by François Pithou,
who called De Mesmes a literary grave-digger, and mourned over the burial
of so many good books in those cold and gloomy sepulchres.
There seems to have been little occasion for this outburst, since the
library was open to all who could make a good use of it during the life
of Henri de Mesmes and under his son and grandson. Henri de Mesmes the
younger, its owner in the third generation, was renowned for his zeal in
collecting; he is said to have even procured MSS. from the Court of the
Great Mogul, dispatched by a French goldsmith at Delhi, who packed them
in red cotton and stuffed them into the hollow of a bamboo for safer
carriage. One of the finest things in his whole library was the Psalter
which Louis IX. had given to Guillaume de Mesmes: it had come by some
means into the library at Whitehall; but on the execution of Charles I.
the French Ambassador had been able to secure it, and had restored it to
the family of the original donee.
The Norman family of Bigot rivalled the race of De Mesmes in their ardour
for book-collecting. Jean Bigot in 1649 had a magnificent library of 6000
volumes, partly inherited from his ancestors, and partly collected out of
the monastic libraries at Fécamp and Mont St. Michel and other places in
that neighbourhood. His son Louis-Emeric took the library as his share of
the inheritance: its improvement became the occupation of his life; he
made many expeditions after books in foreign countries, but when he was
at home his library was the general _rendez-vous_ of all who were
interested in literature. The books were left to Robert Bigot upon trusts
that were intended to prevent their dispersion. A sale, however, took
place in 1706, at which the monastic archives and most of the MSS. were
purchased by the government.
By some arrangement, of which the history is unknown, the head of the
family of De Mesmes was persuaded to allow his books to be included in
the Bigot sale. There seems to have been an attempt to disguise the
transaction by tearing off the bindings and defacing the coats of arms.
The strangest thing about the sale was the fact that no notice was taken
of its containing the finest portion of Grolier's library. The splendid
_Aldines_, on vellum, fell into the hands of an ignorant notary with a
new room to furnish: and he thought fit to strip off all the bindings,
that had been a marvel of Italian art, and to replace them with the gaudy
coverings that were more suited to his _bourgeois_ desires.
M. de Lincy remarks that Grolier's books were strangely neglected through
a great part of the eighteenth century. At the very end of the period,
Count Macarthy had the good taste to include a few of them in his
collection of books upon vellum. Mr. Cracherode began, in 1793, to buy
all the specimens that came into the market: and the library which he
bequeathed to the British Museum contains no less than eighteen fine
examples. Eight more were comprised in the magnificent bequest of Mr.
Thomas Grenville's library in 1846. There has been a demand for these
books in England for more than a century and a half. But when we look at
the catalogues of Gaignat or La Vallière they seem to have been
altogether disregarded. When Gaignat died in 1768 his collection was
regarded as perfect; it was said that 'no one in the commonwealth of
letters had ever brought together such a rich and admirable assembly.'
Yet he only had one 'Grolier book,' a magnificent copy of Paolo Giovio's
book on Roman Fishes, which passed to the Duc de la Vallière, and went
for a few _livres_ at his sale. There were only two other specimens in
the Duke's library; and they seem to have been treated with equal
indifference. M. de Lincy was of opinion that the memory of Grolier was
almost entirely forgotten, except in his native city of Lyons. The
appearance of his books might be admired by an antiquary here and there;
but the classics had gone out of fashion for a time, and the world gave
its attention to old poetry, to mediæval romance, and even to 'books of
_facetiæ_.'
Grolier's reputation had mainly depended on his generous patronage of
literature. Even the House of Aldus had rejoiced to be the clients of a
new Mæcenas. The authors of that time were still too weak to go alone. In
the absence of a demand for books it was essential to gain the favour of
a great man who might open a way to fame and would at least provide a
pension. We have all smiled at the adulations of an ancient preface and
the arrogance which too often baulked the poor writer's hopes. D'Israeli
reminds us that one of the Popes repaid the translation of a Greek
treatise with a few pence that might just have paid for the binding, and
of Cardinal Este receiving Ariosto's work with the question--'Where on
earth all that rubbish had been collected?' This was but a temporary
phase, and literature became free from the burden as soon as the public
had learned to read. The Houses of Plantin and the Elzevirs required no
help in selling out their cheap editions. A good dedication was still a
feather in the patron's cap. Queen Christina considered that she was
justly entitled to the patronage of her subjects' works: and Marshal
Rantzau, when writers were scarce in Denmark, brought out an anonymous
work for the purpose of introducing a preface in which his fame as a
book-collector was glorified. But the patron's function was gradually
restricted; and at last it was nearly confined to cases where a
dedication repaid assistance given in producing an unsaleable book.
The later renown of Grolier must rest on the fact that he invented a new
taste. It would have been nothing to buy a few thousand Aldine books,
even if the collection included all the first editions, the papers of all
sizes, the copies with uncut edges, and specimens of the true misprints.
The family of Aldus had a large library of this kind, which was dispersed
at Rome by its inheritor in the third generation; but it never attracted
much attention, and was generally believed to have been merged in a
collection at Pisa. Grolier introduced a fashion depending for its
success on a multiplicity of details. He bought books out of large
editions just issuing from the press; but he chose out the specimen with
the best printing, and the finest paper, if vellum were not forthcoming.
The condition was perfect. Like the Count Macarthy he would have no dust
or worm-holes: he was as microscopic in his views as the most accurate
Parisian bibliophile. The binding was in the best Italian style: a
general sobriety was relieved by the brilliancy of certain effects, by
the purity of the design, perhaps above all by the perfection of the
materials. The book was an object of interest, for its contents, or for
historical or personal reasons; but it had also become an _objet d'art_,
like a gem or a figure in porcelain. Grolier preserved his dignity as a
bibliophile, and his true followers have not degenerated into collectors
of _bric-à-brac_. It is sufficient to name such men as M. Renouard, the
owner of many of Grolier's treasures, or M. Firmin-Didot 'the friend of
all good books,' or the collections of Mr. Beckford and Baron Seillière
which have been in our own time dispersed. No doubt there is a tendency,
especially among French amateurs, to regard books as mere curiosities;
and M. Uzanne has drawn an amusing picture of the book-hunter as a
chrysalis in his library, destined to find his wings in a flight after
mosaic bindings, autographs, original water-colours, or plates in early
states.
It is possible, however, to prevent the 'book-buying disease' from
developing into a general collector's mania. With the world full of
books, we must adopt some special variety for our admiration. One person
will choose his library companions for their stateliness and splendid
raiment, another for their flavour of antiquity, or the fine company that
they kept in old times. Montaigne loved his friends on the shelf, because
they always received him kindly and 'blunted the point of his grief.' He
turned the volumes over in his round tower within any method or design;
'at one while,' he says, 'I meditate, at another time I make notes, or
dictate, as I walk up and down, such whimsies as meet you here.' He cared
little about the look of their outsides, but thought a great deal about
their readiness to divert him; 'it is the best _viaticum_ I have yet
found out for this human pilgrimage, and I pity any man of understanding
who is not provided with it.' We have omitted the best reason of all. One
who has lived among his books will love them because they are his own.
Marie Bashkirtseff expressed the matter well enough in a page of her
journal:--'I have a real passion for my books, I arrange them, I count
them, I gaze upon them: my heart rejoices in nothing but this heap of old
books, and I like to stand off a little and look at them as if they were
a picture.'