discourse intelligently upon the merits of books and authors, have
never experienced a single pulsation of true bibliophilism; they have
never known the joy of possessing and admiring a beautiful book, and
that the attachment one bears for such a treasure is wholly
reciprocal. They have not learned that fine books, like human beings,
are capable of mutual affection, and that it is not necessary to
devour them in order to value their charms. "We do not gather books to
read them, my Boeotian friend," says Mr. Joline; "the idea is a
childish delusion. 'In early life,' says Walter Bagehot, 'there is an
opinion that the obvious thing to do with a horse is to ride it; with
a cake, to eat it; with a sixpence to spend it.' A few boyish persons
carry this further, and think that the natural thing to do with a book
is to read it. The mere reading of a rare book is a puerility, an
idiosyncrasy of adolescence; it is the _ownership_ of the book which
is the matter of distinction. The collector of coins does not
accumulate his treasures for the purpose of ultimately spending them
in the marketplace. The lover of postage-stamps, small as his horizon
may be, does not hoard his colored bits of paper with the intent to
employ them in the mailing of letters. When some one complained to
Bedford that a book which he had bound did not shut properly, he
exclaimed, 'Why, bless me, sir, you've been _reading_ it!'"
Herrick says that "the truest owner of a library is he who has bought
each book for the love he bears to it; who is happy and content to
say, 'Here are my jewels, my choicest possessions!'" Seneca, the great
Roman philologer, wrote: "If you are fond of books, you will escape
the _ennui_ of life; you will neither sigh for evening, disgusted with
the occupations of the day, nor will you live dissatisfied with
yourself or unprofitable with others." "I am quite transported and
comforted in the midst of my books," says the younger Pliny, who was
an ardent book-fancier; "they give a zest to the happiest and assuage
the anguish of the bitterest moments of existence. Therefore, whether
distracted by the cares or losses of my family or my friends, I fly to
my library as the only refuge in distress: here I learn to bear
adversity with fortitude."
Southey thus immortalizes his speechless, yet beloved, library
companions:
My never failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.
Balfour is no less eloquent in paying worthy tribute to his library:
"The world may be kind or hostile; it may seem to us to be hastening
on the wings of enlightenment and progress to an imminent millennium,
or it may weigh us down with the sense of insoluble difficulty and
irremediable wrong; but whatever else it may be, so long as we have
good health and a library, it can never be dull."
"Bookes," said the immortal Milton, "demeane themselves as well as
men. Books are not absolutely dead things, but doe contain a potencie
of life in them to be as active as that soule was whose progeny they
are: nay they do preserve as in a violl the purest efficacie and
extraction of that living intellect that bred them. Unlesse warinesse
be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book; who kills a
man kills a reasonable creature, God's Image; but Hee who destroys a
good Booke, kills reason itselfe, kills the image of God, as it were
in the eye."
In the garnering of book-treasures, some collectors are prompted
wholly by mercenary motives--most of them, fortunately, are not. There
are biblio-mercenaries of such sordid inclinations that they would
readily part with almost any book in their possession,--even inscribed
presentation copies!--if lightly tempted with money considerations.
Verily, these parsimonious traders would barter their own souls, if
they possessed any value.
I am indebted to the Secretary of a well-known book club for the
following facts, to confirm which I saw all the correspondence. A
certain book-buyer joined the club some time ago, and subscribed for
the first publication issued after he became a member. Upon receiving
the work he wrote: "I consider them among the most beautiful examples
of book-making that I have ever seen, and prize them above all other
books in my library." Six months later he sold the copy to a
book-agent for twice its original cost. He "passed" the next
publication issued by the club, as it did not interest him, but
appended a postscript to his letter, saying: "If any member wants an
extra copy, I have no objection to one being issued upon my membership
and turned over to him, provided I receive the increase in price."
The following humorous incident is recorded in the (1903) Year Book
of another prominent book club. It may be explained that the club
issued a very elaborate and beautiful publication, printed upon deckle
edge handmade paper, illustrated with remarque proof copperplate
etchings on Japanese vellum, and in duplicate without remarque on
Whatman paper: "One of the members upon receiving the first two
volumes of the ---- publication, writes: 'The Society starts out by
making the worst kind of a blunder. The man's picture in the front of
the volume is put in twice and on _two kinds of paper_. I could excuse
this error, but imagine my horror when upon turning to the back of the
volume I found the _same mistake repeated_. This is too much.' He
closed by expressing a desire to resign, saying that he did not know
he 'was joining a faddists club,' and takes occasion to remark further
that 'the books are cheaply finished, not even being trimmed and
gilded;' also that he 'can buy better books in the stores, _with full
gilt edges_, for less money.'"
So much has been written about the vagaries of book-collectors and
bibliomaniacs that the subject has long since become threadbare, and
about the only unexplored field of labor left to the choice of him who
would gain a hearing with the reader--if one can be found who is not
already weary of reading what the wags think of his (or her) own
peculiar whims--is to fall in with the spirit of the age and compile
an "International Library of the World's Greatest Gibberish about
Bibliomaniacs." We have the "World's Greatest" everything else in
book-lore, and I shall not be surprised if some enterprising publisher
gets out a "definitive" _de luxe_ edition of the "World's Greatest
Dictionaries." Indeed, the Holy Bible itself has not escaped, for they
are now making a "de luxe" edition, in fourteen volumes! to be sold by
subscription. It will not be an "Autograph Edition," however.
The freaks and fancies of capricious book-gatherers and bibliomaniacs
have undergone so few changes in the last hundred years that modern
writers on Bibliomania, after vainly searching the horizon for some new
development in the way of symptoms of the disease, or characteristics of
those afflicted, have wandered off into the verdure of adjacent fields
to avoid repetition. Some of them, from sheer lack of anything new to
say, have set upon each other in the most unflattering terms. Many of
the writers on the delectable "Joys of a Book-buyer," or "Habits of a
Bibliomaniac," etc., evidently appreciate the fact that these much
persecuted human beings have other pastimes and habits than collecting
books, and that they really inhabit the earth in all its civilized parts
and partake unstintedly of its many pleasurable diversions. But again,
there is another extreme, for I once read a book issued under the
misleading title of "Pleasures of a Book-collector," or something of the
sort, which might have been more appropriately called the "Pleasures of
a Single Man," seeing that the work had more to do with the hero's
hopeless love for a fair damsel, and his hours at clubs, cafés, and
other places of amusement in which I had no special interest, than it
did with the acquirement of literature. Thus, with the delusive idea
that I was to be ushered into some of the secret enjoyments of the
pleasing diversion of book-buying, I presently found myself more
familiar with the habits, vices, and various unimportant matters of the
author's conception--points, in short, having no bearing whatever upon
the subject under consideration--than with the pleasures of a
book-collector. The book was not badly written, nor wholly
uninteresting; but if a man buys a ticket to the opera, he doesn't go
prepared to see a cock-fight.
For literary scoffers and malcontents who find fault with everything
and everybody, who even scold publishers because their own books bring
but meagre royalties, who fuss and fume over the harmless foibles of
the very ones upon whom they depend for their audience, and like an
ungrateful dog fasten their teeth in the charitable hand that offers
them food, there can be but small sympathy. One is tempted to enlarge
upon this familiar type, but here I am digressing from my subject, and
am committing much the same offence as that of which I have elsewhere
accused others.
I have been asked to include within the scope of my article a few
remarks about Book Clubs and Book Societies. In presuming to trespass
upon sacred yet inviting ground of this character, I must be
understood as approaching the subject with due reverence and apology.
It is an indisputable fact that among the agencies that have
contributed to the advancement and ennobling of the bookmaker's art in
the past twenty years, the legitimate Book Club has been one of the
most potential. We have only to refer to _Growell's American Book
Clubs_ in order to learn of the many clubs and societies of this kind
which have arisen in the past few years, with varying degrees of
success and failure,--success, when intelligently conducted upon
honest coöperative principles, and failure, if irrationally directed,
without regard to the maxims upon which successful clubs are managed.
The province of these worthy accessories in the world of fine
bookmaking has not been free from invasion by sharks and charlatans,
some of whom have succeeded for a time under the guise of honest and
reciprocal motives.
In this country there are private book clubs and societies that have
won places of enviable distinction both here and abroad, and naturally
among the foremost of these are the ones which have been pestered by
"imitators." The following significant remarks are taken from the
president's annual address to the members of an old and honored book
club:--
"Fame brings its penalties, and during the last year many of us have
suffered considerable annoyance, both individually and as members of
the Club, through the exploitation of books advertised sometimes as
publications of The ---- Club, and more often as publications of the
---- Society. These have usually been offered in connection with works
of distinguished authors in numerous volumes, stated, as a rule, to be
limited to a thousand copies, and described as the contents of the
private library of a lady, which the agent declares to have been
placed in his hands to dispose of as quickly as possible, regardless
of cost. No widow's cruse, apparently, could be more unfailing in its
supply than this 'private library.' While annoying, the device of a
'---- Society,' though manifestly designed to confuse the public mind
and trade on the reputation of this Club, can scarcely deceive our
members or even the book-loving public. It, nevertheless, is an
annoyance, and the more vexatious because scarcely calling for other
remedy than exposure.
"It is possible, however, that harm to the good name of the Club may
be wrought through the advertisement, in an English newspaper, to
which my attention has been drawn, of a so-called '---- Society of
Great Britain,' which is declared to have been recently formed in
conjunction with the '---- Society of the United States,' which is
described as having been established in 1884, and to have occupied its
own Club House since 1888, and to have published handsomely printed
books for sale exclusively to the members. It is announced, however,
that the '---- Society of Great Britain,' although intending to act in
conjunction with the American society, 'will work upon somewhat
different lines, at any rate at first.' It may well be that this
cleverly deceptive advertisement will require some attention from us,
either directly or through members resident abroad.
"This, however, seems to be the only fly in our ointment, and we may
congratulate ourselves that there is nothing more serious to disturb
our enjoyment of the anniversary which we now celebrate."
Another and more palpable fraud has been perpetrated in copying the
name of The Bibliophile Society, but with a slight prefix, just enough
to afford a loop-hole through which to escape legal prosecution. Not
enough, however, to enable the public to distinguish between the
spurious and the genuine, and even the members themselves have
sometimes been deceived by unscrupulous agents representing their
wares as the regular productions of the valid society. The audacious
promoters of this so-called Society had the boldness not only to
pilfer the name of the legitimate society, but also the name of its
president, which was ostentatiously printed upon their letter heads,
together with the name of Dr. Richard Garnett. Both of these gentlemen
have recently published their denunciations through the columns of the
press, and protested vigorously against this unauthorized use of their
names.
The _modus operandi_ of this pestiferous concern is to send numbered
"complimentary certificates" throughout the country to persons whose
names are obtainable from directories, and when acknowledgment cards
are received from those who deign to accept the exalted compliment,
they are forthwith called upon, usually by some "officer" of the
Society,--sometimes the "President," but usually the "Treasurer,"
"Secretary," or "Registrar."
Some time ago I was honored by a call from one of these circumventive
"Treasurers," but happened to be conveniently busy at the time, and so
made an appointment with him to meet me at my office the next day.
Meanwhile, I prepared to have his statements reduced to writing by a
stenographer, anticipating that it might be necessary to refresh my
memory upon certain passages that I might fail to remember verbatim.
The following is the substance of the "canvass" as taken by the
stenographer in an adjoining room, the door of which was wide open:--
"I am the Treasurer of the ---- Society, with headquarters in
London. By a special grant from the English Government, we have
recently been permitted to extend our membership into this country,
and three hundred life members are to be admitted under this
enlargement of our constitutional privileges. It may interest you,
first, to know something of the origin of this Society. It was
organized in London about three hundred years ago by the Duke of
Roxburghe [who was not born until more than a hundred years later],
and was originally composed of about thirty members of the royal
family. The original charter limited the membership to fifty members,
and in less than a month the limit was reached. Through the powerful
influence of the royal family the Society had easy access to all the
great repositories of unpublished manuscripts, and the most valuable
and interesting of them were selected for publication. These
publications became so enormously valuable that it stimulated a desire
on the part of others to join the Society, and particularly, some of
the nobility of France and Germany. It was decided to increase the
membership to three hundred, and to take in a few members from France,
Germany, Italy, and Russia. The Society thrived for about a thousand
years [this is either a stenographic error, or else he meant to say a
hundred]; then there was a period of inactivity, and later on it was
revived again, and the membership limit increased to five hundred.
Last year we obtained permission to again increase the membership by
taking in three hundred prominent people in America. I am over here to
arrange for three vice-presidents,--two for the East and one for the
West. I have a special commission to ask you to become one of the
honorary vice-presidents and to offer you a life membership for less
than half the regular fee, viz., $225.00; the usual fee for life
membership is $500.00, but you get it for $225.00 on account of acting
as our honorary vice-president for this territory. Of course you would
have no regular duties to perform. You would sign all the membership
certificates in your district, and in case of the death of any member,
you would have the privilege of naming his successor.
"The Society issues every year a volume giving all the price
currents for the year, and keeps the members posted on the advance or
decline in the value of all important publications. We also give you
in confidence the ratings of various publishers, and print reports to
members exposing all the frauds in the book business. Upon payment of
the fee of $225.00, you receive all of this material free, for the
balance of your life, and in addition all of the Society's regular
publications, including the present one, consisting of ---- volumes
[here he produced the customary specimen sheets]. You see this one
work alone is worth the full amount you pay for life membership [here
occurred a "special offer" of some sort, given in a low monotone which
the stenographer was unable to hear; and I must confess that I was so
stupefied by this astounding fabrication that I myself have not the
faintest recollection of what this "special offer" consisted]. We are
very anxious to have your name as our honorary vice-president here,
because you will not only be an honor to the Society, but the Society
will be an honor to you."
Here my Treasurer friend produced a regular form of subscription
contract for a set of books; but it contained no clause about life
membership, or any other membership, and included no promise of
anything further than the delivery of the books.
The honor of such a vice-presidency being thrust upon me was indeed a
thrilling sensation, and the story was told in a fluent, cohesive, and
logical manner; so well, in fact, that had I not known in advance that
it was purely imaginary from beginning to end, I could scarcely have
avoided giving it full acceptance. But I had heard of the story
before, and although partially prepared, it staggered me surprisingly.
I afterwards learned that every one else canvassed by my interviewer
was equally offered one of the "three vice-presidencies."
There appears to be no defense for book clubs against these bogus
impersonations. The injured club, or society, can sustain no claim for
any special damage, because, as not offering its publications in the
open market, it actually suffers no ascertainable loss of patronage.
The principal damage results to those who are thus victimized in
permitting themselves to be deluded into the belief that they are
acquiring the valid editions of reputable clubs. When club
publications come into the open market they are usually picked up with
avidity by collectors, and they have thus grown into very general
favor among book-lovers. Indeed, the high esteem in which they have
come to be regarded offers a productive field for a few crafty
publishers to ply their wily designs in. The audacity of these
schemers carries them to such incredible measures that they sometimes
buy sheet-stock from reputable publishing houses, change the name of
the edition, and deliberately manufacture new titles on which they
print the name of some book club or society. These counterfeits are
sold to the unsuspecting book-buyer, who often imagines he has landed
a prize. Later, he is likely to become disillusioned. There can be no
doubt that the contemptible practice of thus mutilating and garbling
books should be defined as a felony and made punishable by fine or
imprisonment. Book-buyers, however, can in a measure help the
situation and protect themselves by not dealing with such people; they
should particularly remember that creditable book clubs _never_ employ
soliciting agents, and rarely, if ever, offer their publications for
sale outside of the membership. Any one, therefore, representing
himself as an authorized agent of a book club may usually be branded
as an impostor. Most book clubs print only such number of copies of
each publication as are subscribed and paid for by members in advance,
and the funds thus advanced are used to pay the cost of the edition.
Notwithstanding the evils referred to, the book club is with us to
stay, and the very fact that it is continually pestered by these
hangers-on is conclusive proof of its potency and usefulness; features
which insure its secure foundation in the community.
Very few people are able to appreciate the amount of gratuitous labor
performed by the officers and committees of private book clubs. It is
erroneous to suppose that beautiful books are a purely natural
offspring of the book club. The preparation of the material for
publication and successfully following it through all the various
stages of manufacture requires an enormous amount of detail work, as
well as an accurate knowledge of bookmaking. The president of a
prominent book club recently said, in his annual address to the
members:--
"I wish that our members could be witnesses at the many conferences
held by the Committee on Publications and by the Council; of the
various experiments needed to settle upon the size and shape of the
book, the size of its page and its margins, the style of type, the
initial letters, head-bands, tail-pieces, engravings, etc. etc.; of
the printer's endless proofs, the making of a special paper (which
sometimes proves to be unsuited), and, finally, the style of binding.
What material, color, and general make-up shall it have? If our
members could thus follow the progress of the work from beginning to
finish they would be reconciled to disappointment. At any rate it is
through their subscriptions that these experiments can be undertaken,
and it is by knowledge thus gained that the Club has won credit for
the Arts and Crafts of our country, and made an honorable record even
in other lands; so that to be a member of the Club has become an
enviable distinction."
Owing to the tricks and stratagem practiced in _manufacturing_ "de
luxe" editions, some of our bibliophiles have taken matters of
bookmaking into their own hands, with the result that they have
organized clubs and societies, the members of which take much pleasure
in introducing to their library companions each year one or two
charming new acquaintances which come bearing the club's seal of
endorsement. A true bibliophile always feels a just pride in shelving
one of these book-treasures of his own club's production, and
thereafter displaying it before his friends, with the interesting bit
of information that "This is the latest production of _our Club_; it
is issued _only for members_." For obviously an owner's interest in
any work is increased many fold by the fact that he is a constituent
part of the organization which produced the same: the relationship to
the book in such a case is akin to the love of a parent for a child;
and the owner of a fine library will not unusually regard his Club
publications and privately printed books as the objects therein which
are entitled to his fondest consideration.