keeping with the apartment, yet not gaudy nor over-abundant; but a few mahogany bookcases ranged about the chamber, with their inappreciable contents, make the value of the whole mount up to a king's ransom. For instance, one case contains no less than fifty Caxtons, while its companion is filled with scarcely less precious Wynkyn de Wordes and Pynsons of the fifteenth century. The room takes its name, however, not from either of these black-letter bands, but from something beside which even they must "hide their diminished heads " (albeit the Caxtonian collection alone was rated at nearly twelve thousand guineas): we allude to a set of original Aldines, all sumptuously bound, and all printed on vellum! Such a sight exists nowhere else in the world, nor ever has existed; and its mere mention must have maddened the brain of many a less successful but equally devoted bibliomaniac. The reader will understand that oftentimes (particularly in the earlier days of the press) one or more first impressions of a valuable work were struck off on vellum, instead of paper, thus securing to such copies a more sumptuous appearance, as well as a longer life, than to their compeers. This ancient custom is, in some measure, still preserved; and, especially in instances where a book connoisseur is concerned in its publication, we often find a copy or two of some favored work on vellum. A more usual plan, however, is to issue a few copies upon large paper, or Indian or Holland paper, for the benefit of the cognoscenti.

It will be thus perceived how, with a copy in his hand superior to almost any other of the same edition, the possessor feels the natural propriety of coating it with a superior binding, or, at least, of treating it in such a manner as to insure its preservation. Perchance, if he be a bold man, and the work susceptible of such an addition, he undertakes to illustrate it before putting it into the hands of the binder. Do our readers know what, in technical phrase, illustrating a book means? We will tell them; and as historical works are almost invariably those which are selected for this purpose, we will illustrate our explanation by a random extract from Mr. Macaulay's History of England, which more than one illustrator, we have no doubt, has had in hand since its

publication. Speaking of the English pulpit, our author says:

"Barrow had lately died at Cambridge; and Pearson had gone thence to the episcopal bench. Cudworth and Henry Moore were still living there. South and Pococke, Jane and Aldrich, were at Oxford. Prideaux was in the close of Norwich, and Whitby in the close of Salisbury. But it was chiefly by the London clergy, who were always spoken of as a class apart, that the fame of their profession for learning and eloquence was upheld. The principal pulpits of the metropolis were occupied about this time by a crowd of distinguished men, from among whom was selected a large proportion of the rulers of the Church. Sherlock preached at the Temple, Tillotson at Lincoln's Inn, Wake and Jeremy Collier at Gray's Inn, Burnet at the Rolls, Stillingfleet at St. Paul's Cathedral, Patrick at St. Paul's, Covent Garden, Fowler at St. Giles's, Cripplegate, Sharp at St. Giles's in the Fields, Tennison at St. Martin's, Sprat at St. Margaret's, Beveridge at St. Peter's in Cornhill."

Here are the names of twenty-two Church dignitaries, every portrait of whom, whenever or wherever engraved, must be obtained, to make a perfect illustration of the passage. And furthermore, the best kind of proofs in existence of each engraving must be had, no matter how costly or difficult. If prints from a private plate are extant, so much the better: they must be added to the list. Besides these, the titles of twelve churches in London, of London itself, of the two Universities, of two cathedrals, and of the cities wherein they stand, are also mentioned. Engravings of each of these objects (unless otherwise introduced into the volume) must be procured by hook or by crook; and so on, ad finem. To illustrate Macaulay properly and elegantly would cost a larger sum than it would be advisable to mention here, haps, than any similar undertaking ever amounted to. inexpertus loquor, we have in our time tried a hand at the game ourselves. But, lest the reader should still remain incredulous as to the trouble and charges of such an achievement, let his attention be called to the seven hundred prints collected to illustrate six verses (20-25) of the first chapter of Genesis; to the Pennant's London, in the British Museum, the engravings for which (in cheap times) cost £2,000; to

more, per

Haud

the illustrated Scott's Dryden, with its six hundred and fifty portraits; and to numerous other such books, which our limits will not suffer us even to name.

The excellent John Evelyn and the "painful" Elias Ashmole have the credit of introducing this recreation, but the Rev. Dr. Granger, with his Biographical History of England, first made the disease contagious; and at this day there is an illustrated Clarendon, an illustrated Shakespeare, and an illustrated Bowyer's Bible, that are as well known in London as Charing Cross or the Bank crossing. Some dissatisfied spirits, ever bent on progress, delight to place original autograph letters of the subjects of their prints beside their "counterfeit presentments," thus considerably increasing the bulk and value of the precious tome, and rendering it additionally worthy of the binder's care. The general reader, or even the unillustrative collector, will, however, too often have cause to murmur at the remorseless hand which, to enrich a work that only once mentions the name, for instance, of Chaucer, has mangled a Pickering's tall paper Canterbury Tales of its exquisite frontispiece. It is this character that Dr. Ferriar inveighs against:

"In paper books, superbly gilt and tooled,

He pastes, from injured volumes snipt away,
His English Heads in chronicled array.

Torn from their destined page, (unworthy meed

Of knightly counsel and heroic deed.)

Not Faithorn's stroke nor Field's own type can save
The gallant Veres, and one-eyed Ogle brave.

Indignant readers seek the image fled,

And curse the busy fool, who wants a head.

Proudly he shows, with many a smile elate,

The scrambling subjects of the private plate;
While Time their actions and their names bereaves,

They grin for ever in the guarded leaves."

The reader who cares to go deeply into the antiquities of bibliopegia will find in Mr. Hannett's Books of the Ancients, and in M. Peignot's Essai sur la Reliure des Livres chez les Anciens (Paris, 1834), as well as in the voluminous pages of the enthusiastic Dibdin, enough to satisfy a moderate demand;

and if he is so fortunate as to possess a copy of Schwarz's work, De Ornamentis Librorum Veterum (which we have never been able to see), he will probably more than satiate his curiosity. For our present purpose, it will be sufficient to mention that the scrolls of the ancients, consisting of loose leaves of papyrus or of some similar material, were at first secured by tying them up in a cylindrical roll. Hence the lora rubra of Catullus, which we are told were thongs of red leather. Next, some sagacious wight conceived the idea of passing a cord through the pages; and subsequently one Phillatius, an Athenian, earned a statue from his grateful fellowcountrymen by teaching them to glue the leaves together. Catullus, in his Epigrams, gives us some precious information as to the bookbinder's tools of those days:

"Chartæ regiæ, novi libri,

Novi umbilici, lora rubra, membrana

Directa plumbo, et pumice omnia æquata.”

The lorum, as we have seen, was a leather band; the umbilicus was the boss at the extremities of the substance on which the book was to be rolled; and the pumex, or pumice-stone, was employed to polish the pages down to a glossy smoothness, a process analogous in its object to the modern hot-pressing. Then there was an essential oil of cedar, called the cedrium, whose use was to preserve the manuscript from worms and insects. In this manner were the writings of Cicero and Virgil stored away in the collections of Rome and Pompeii.*

A good idea of the appearance of one of these scrolls may be obtained from a modern mounted map, the projecting portions of the rollers not being unfrequently made, in those days of luxury, when books were very rare, of ivory, or even of gold, but more generally of wood. At first, the vellum was prepared only upon one side. By and by it was discovered that both sides might be used; then it was trimmed into

* The Diptychs of the Romans are believed to have presented some very interesting specimens of carved-wood binding, with characteristic devices and figures upon the sides. Sometimes they were made of ivory. As late as the fifth century they were still in vogue.

squares or parallelograms, and finally gathered or folded double or quadruple, the former style being equivalent to our folios, the latter to our quartos. The invention of octavos was reserved for another age. In this folding we have the first traces of our modern book form, and the binding which it demanded constitutes the beginning of our modern art. So far as we can judge from the few monastic specimens remaining, and those not of the earliest epoch, this duty was laboriously but rudely performed. The sheets, having been long under the hands of the engrosser or decorator, we may suppose to have been carefully pressed and smoothed. They were then stitched together with thongs of some soft, tough skin, and at last inclosed in stout oak boards. If the volume was a highly valued one, its covers would be adorned with ornaments of gold, silver, or precious stones. A basso-relievo of the Virgin and Child, or of a patron saint, would be affixed to the outside; and within, so thick were the covers, a little recess or cupboard was sometimes placed, with doors opening by a spring, the shrine of a small crucifix to be secretly adored by the devout owner of the precious tome. Sometimes, too, the margin is found painted with religious scenes; or a Holy Family, or a Christ with the Angels, is inlaid in ivory on the cover. These are very curious and interesting volumes, but, from their antiquity, of very rare occurrence.

With the advance of elegance in other pursuits, the bindings, as well as the illuminations and other ornaments of books (we are still speaking of manuscripts), became more splendid. The religious houses were still the only professed conservatories of literature, and the pious zeal of many a godly king and noble sought, not ineffectually, to enrich their shrines. Thus Stowe relates an instance of the liberality of Ina, king of the West-Saxons, who, in the eighth century, among other donations, bestowed on the monks of Glastonbury "a kiver for the Gospell Booke, twenty pound." Indeed, it was in the Middle Ages considered as an evidence of a Christian turn of mind, to labor on the preparation of ecclesiastical volumes; and thus we find the Norman Herman a skilful illuminator and bookbinder, before he came to England, in the time of the Conqueror, to be eventually consecrated Bishop of Salisbury.