Book Collecting: A Guide for Amateurs

by J. Herbert Slater

It will be readily seen that the knowledge requisite for a collector to possess, if indeed he wishes to become a master of his subject, is of no mean order, for not only must he have the family pedigree at his fingers' ends, and be capable of detecting a pseudonymous or pirated work, but he must also be in a position to appreciate the "right dates," and to detect an improper head or tail piece when he sees it. Some books which pass as Elzevirs are in reality spurious, even though marked with the "Sphere" or other device; others, though coming from the press, are inferior editions, "not of the right date," as the specialist puts it.

One of the most beautiful little books ever issued from the Elzevir or any other press is the Cæsar of 1635, which, on referring to the table, we shall see must have been printed by Bonaventure and Abraham at Leyden.[11] It is in 12mo, and there are no less than three editions, the first and second being so much alike that no one could detect the difference without the most careful of careful inspections. The "right" Cæsar is the first, and may be recognised from the Buffalo's Head on a scroll at the head of the dedication. Pages 149, 335, and 475 are misprinted 153, 345, and 375 respectively in the first edition, and there are 35 lines to the page. The second edition, which has not, pecuniarily speaking, a tenth part of the value, has 37 lines to the page, and the misprints are corrected. Another fine work, the Comediæ of Terence, Leyden, 1635, 12mo, passed through five editions, all of which are very much alike. The first and "right" edition has, however, on page 51, the word laches printed in red, while page 101 is improperly numbered 69. In the second edition laches is in black, in the fifth it changes to red again, so that the greatest caution has to be exercised lest the first and fifth editions should be confounded. The former is worth much more than the latter, as the unfortunate purchaser will find to his cost when he comes to sell again.

As previously stated, the "good dates" begin from 1625, the year when Bonaventure and Abraham went into partnership at Leyden, and any books dated from that year to 1655, when Jean and Daniel dissolved partnership, are most likely to be of value, provided only the right edition is forthcoming. Daniel was, however, by far the best printer in the family, though some make an exception in favour of Bonaventure and Abraham; and as he continued in business at Amsterdam, either by himself or in conjunction with Louis from 1655 to 1680, those dates must also be considered "good". From the Amsterdam press, in 1655, issued that prize of Elzevir collectors, the Pastissier François, and the splendid Virgil of 1676 in grand as well as petit format, or as we should say in English, on large and small paper. The halcyon days of the press at Leyden date from 1625 to 1655; those of the press at Amsterdam from 1655 to 1680.

It is, of course, impossible for anyone, be he dealer or amateur, to carry in his head all these details and distinguishing marks, and reference in cases of doubt will have to be made to Willem's Les Elzevier, a work which has superseded all others on the subject. With this book at hand it is difficult to go wrong, as the minutest points of difference are chronicled with great fidelity.

We will now take it for granted that the amateur is in full possession of, or can obtain, all the information necessary to enable him to distinguish between a right and a wrong date. He has still, however, to bear in mind that even a right-dated volume may be in such a wretched condition as to be hardly worth purchasing. If he will take a walk down Holywell Street he may frequently meet with genuine Elzevirs which the dealers will be only too glad to dispose of for a shilling or two each. The reason of this is that, not only are the works offered for sale not "of the good date" (i.e., inferior editions), but they are also, in the vast majority of instances, battered, dirty, and, worse than all, "cropped," sometimes even to the very headlines. For a dirty book there is some hope, since it may be possible to clean it, but for a cropped specimen there is none: like Lucifer, it has fallen from its high estate "never to rise again".

As the measurement of these small books is always made in millimetres, 25·4 of which go to the inch, the enthusiastic collector carries with him an ivory rule on which the French measures are marked. The Ovid of 1629, 3 vols. 16mo, runs to 127 millimetres; the Cæsar of 1635 to 130 millimetres—anything below 125 millimetres is hardly worth looking at; the Virgil of 1676, if uncut, reaches as high as 148 millimetres, or, if in grand format, even to 184 millimetres. A book of high measurement, or entirely uncut, may be worth £100 or more, according to its quality; but if cropped below the fashionable height it would not bring as many shillings. A copy of Le Pastissier François, 128 millimetres high, was not long ago offered at 1500 francs, or £60; an entirely uncut copy brought 10,000 francs, or £400; and yet between the two there could not have been a greater difference in height than three, or at the most four, millimetres. The truth is that Elzevirs are measured with the same accuracy observable in the weighing of precious stones, and the 25th part of an inch makes a wonderful difference.

That book collectors sometimes go to extreme lengths cannot be doubted by anyone who has spent much time in their company; but the English bibliophiles are not to be compared in this respect with their French brethren. The latter are the collectors of Elzevirs, and will frequently spend enormous sums on specimens which from their appearance and real practical utility are worth hardly anything at all. What can be more incorrect than the Leyden Virgil of 1636? It is literally crammed with the most shameful errors, so much so that Heyne says it is destitute of the slightest trace of any good quality. Yet the famous Charles Nodier spent nearly all his life searching for a genuine copy of the first edition, which, when obtained, filled a place purposely left vacant for it. Up to that time he had declined to "profane" his shelves with any Virgil at all.

Thus much for the Elzevir press, which, like the Aldine, is not regarded with the same favour by collectors as it formerly was. Nevertheless there are many, particularly in France, who yet make a speciality of these little books with "good dates," and it is, therefore, necessary to know something of them. Of one thing the collector may be quite confident: he has here plenty of material for the study of a lifetime, and, what is greatly to the point, ample opportunity of accumulating a representative series of examples of the press. Good Elzevirs, though rare, are not hopelessly so; while bad ones are as plentiful as blackberries. In this respect, at any rate, the Elzevir collector has a great advantage over many of his fellows, whose hunting-grounds are circumscribed, and who frequently would give anything to obtain even a mutilated copy from the press of their favourite printer.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Louis Elzevir II. (1590-1621) produced nine books, one, however, the Navigatio ac Itinerarium of Linschoten, 1599, bearing the name of Gilles Elzevir (probably inserted whilst he was temporarily managing the business of his brother, who in 1599 was called to Leyden to help his father, Louis I.).