CHAPTER VIII

A PLEA FOR SPECIALISM

'The road lies plain before me; 'tis a theme Single and of determined bounds.'--WORDSWORTH.

MOST book-collectors embark upon their life-long hobby without any clearly defined scheme of collecting, buying just those books which take their fancy, and in many cases not realising that they have caught the dread contagion of bibliomania until they suddenly find that more shelf-room is required for their books, and that the expenditure upon their hobby is growing out of all proportion to their means. It is then generally too late to stop, and although they may avoid the book-stalls for some days, nay even weeks, the passion of collecting is only dormant, and will break out with renewed vigour either upon a sudden (though perhaps only temporary) condition of affluence, or upon the receipt of that most insidious of all temptations, a bookseller's catalogue--especially if it be a 'clearance' one.

This passion for collecting books resolves itself at length into two categories. Either the patient grows rapidly worse and plunges headlong into the vortex of auctions, catalogues, and bibliographies, amassing during the process a vast nondescript collection of books; or else he improves slowly but surely, growing daily shrewder in his purchases. So that at length, having completely recovered his composure, he finds himself the possessor of a collection of books valuable alike from commercial and utilitarian standpoints.

The former of these collectors is generally said to suffer from acute bibliomania. His knowledge of books is vast but of a general kind, and for practical purposes it cannot compare with that acquired by his fellow-collector who had seen the folly of a headlong course. His complaint is well known; indeed it was recognised in the first century of our era, when Seneca condemned the rage for mere book-collecting, and rallied those who were more pleased with the outsides than the insides of their volumes. Lucian, too, in the next century, employed his prolific pen in exposing this then common folly.

Even the wise collector, however, runs some risk of being engulfed by his hobby and swept away by the flood of books. There is but one remedy, or rather alleviation, for book-collecting is quite incurable and follows a man to his grave (unless, of course, he be cast upon a desert island), and that is _specialism_.

Every collector should become a specialist. It will give him a definite ambition, something to look for among other books, something to complete; and there is a thousand times more satisfaction in possessing a select collection of works of a definite class or upon a definite subject, than in the accumulation of a vast heterogeneous mass of books. He will get to know the greater part of the works upon his own subject, become an authority upon it in time, and perhaps will even attempt a bibliography if it be an out-of-the-way subject. He will know precisely what he wants, what to search for, and what price to pay. In short, he will be lifted out of the fog of miscellaneous books into the clear atmosphere of a definite and known class of works.

It is such an easy step, and such an immensely important one, this determination to confine one's collecting activities to a certain class of books. 'What a blessing it is,' said a book-loving friend not long ago, 'not to have to worry about all sorts of books. I have never ceased congratulating myself that I took the resolution to confine myself entirely to Herbals. Before, I had a vast but untrustworthy knowledge of titles and editions which a bad memory did not assist. Now, thank goodness, I have forgotten all that, but I flatter myself that I really do know something about Herbals.'

And what a profitless occupation is the aimless collecting of heterogeneous books. If bibliographical knowledge be our aim, their very diversity tends to confuse us. If recreation be our object, better far to join a circulating library than garner volumes which, once read, are never to be opened again. Learning and study cannot be intended, for the formation of a library of nondescript books collected upon no system or plan can, at best, endow us with but a smattering of knowledge.

There was once a certain bishop who used continually to collect useless luxuries. The Emperor Charlemagne, perceiving this, ordered a merchant who traded in rare and costly objects to paint a common mouse with different colours and to offer it to the bishop, as being a rare and curious animal which he had just brought from Palestine. The bishop is transported with delight at the sight of it, and immediately offers the merchant three silver pounds for such a treasure. But the merchant,

## acting on his instructions, bargains with the bishop, saying that he

would rather throw it into the sea than sell it for so little. Finally the bishop offers twenty pounds for it. The merchant, wrapping up the 'ridiculus mus' in precious silk, is going away when the collector, unable to bear the thought of losing so great a curio, calls him back and says that he will give him a bushel of silver for it. This the merchant accepts: the money is paid; and the merchant returns to the Emperor to give him an account of the transaction.

Then Charlemagne convokes the bishops and priests of all the province, and placing before them the money which the mouse has fetched, reads them a homely lesson on the foolishness of collecting profitless trifles. Sternly he enjoins them in future to use their money in administering to the wants of the poor rather than to throw it away on such unprofitable baubles as a painted mouse. The guilty bishop, now become the laughing-stock of the province, is permitted to depart without punishment.

Doubtless the great majority of book-collectors are not specialists. They may set greater store by a certain class of works which appeals to them from some whimsical reason, but until they have grown middle-aged in their pursuit most of them are but _dilettanti_.

'Yes,' I can hear you exclaim, 'but if your collecting propensities are to be curbed and countless books passed by, books which your very instinct urges you to acquire, surely you will lose most of the charm of collecting? How dull to be obliged to purchase only those works to which you have vowed to confine yourself.'

Dull! No. I can assure you from my own experience that this restraint will but serve to redouble your eagerness, to sharpen an appetite in danger of becoming blunted by a plethora of _desiderata_ and a shrinkage of your purse. So that whereas before, a short stroll about the book-shops would discover to you abundance, or at least plenty, of books that you would like casually to possess, now that you have become a specialist you must go further afield. Often you will return empty-handed from your rambles, and your sanctum (to the delight of the housemaid) will not be invaded quite so often by stacks of 'dirty old books.' Order will come out of chaos; many works bought upon impulse because they appealed to you at the moment will be weeded out and discarded. Moreover the shillings which this process yields will enable you to send that priceless gem, the _chef d'oeuvre_ of your collection, to the binder's, that its extrinsic appearance may be fashioned in keeping with its intrinsic worth.

More important still, you will become a known man. The booksellers will remember you, and one day when you reach home from a long and barren ramble, you will find a postcard awaiting you, announcing the discovery of some book for which you have long sought.

'SIR,--I have found a copy of the Vitruvius fo. Venice, 1535, that you asked me for some time ago. You can have it for 10s. (vellum, clean copy). Shall I send it?--Yours respectfully, JOHN BROWN.'

Your ramble may have been on a cold winter's afternoon, it may have been raining and muddy underfoot, but will not this cheer you up and warm you better than any cup of tea? And what will be your sensations as you undo the parcel, take out the treasure (which you once saw in Johnson's catalogue for L3), turn eagerly to its title-page, and collate it as gently as though you were handling some priceless work of art? Don't tell me! The specialist gets a thousand times more pleasure out of his hobby than ever did casual buyer. Besides, what rapture will be his whenever he chance upon some book for which he has long been searching, or upon some work on his very subject and yet unknown to him; for book-collecting is full of surprises.

Some of the booksellers will ask you for a list of your wants. You may safely supply them with one, and it is not necessary to state the maximum price which you are prepared to pay for each. Should you do so, probably it will be taken to indicate that you are prepared to pay the price named, and the book when found will be offered to you at that price (or a few shillings less to give the idea of a bargain) when you might have had it at a considerably lower figure. Remember also that the very fact of a book being sought for enhances its price. Suppose that a country bookseller sees an advertisement in the trade journal asking for a copy of a certain obscure sixteenth-century work, and that he recollects he has a copy somewhere in stock. He finds it among his shelves marked, possibly, five shillings. When he answers the advertisement it is more than likely that he will ask a pound or even two for it. At the same time, however, you must consider whether or not the book is worth as much to you. It may be a little known and, to the world at large, a valueless book, and you may have to wait some years before you are able to secure a copy; whereas by advertising for it you may procure a copy almost immediately. Do you prefer to take the chance of having to wait years for a book which you urgently want, or to pay a longish price and possess it at once?

There is another point to be considered. Should you ever part with your collection _en bloc_, or should your executors dispose of it, this volume will be an item of the collection of works in which you specialise. As such it will be much more likely to realise the larger than the smaller price, especially as the disposal of a collection of books upon a definite subject attracts to the rostrum other collectors of a like class of works.

Surely every book-collector is in his heart of hearts a specialist. Have you ever taken into your hands some choice gem of your collection without wishing that there were others in your library of the same genus? Is there not some one volume among your books that demands your first consideration when new shelving is put up, when your books are re-arranged; the volume to which you would fly first of all if a fire broke out in your sanctum? Brother bookman, I can almost hear you turn in your chair at the awful prospect of having to make choice between your beloved tomes! Indeed I am with you whole-heartedly, for there are two books, two priceless gems, rescued (the one from Austria, the other France) after years of patient search, two books which ever strive for the ascendancy in my bibliophilic affections. Far from me be it to make distinction between them. Granted, however, that you have made up your mind as to the identity of _the_ treasure, do you not wish to possess other equally choice works of the same class, on the same subject? Suppose some distant relative of yours with great propriety should die, bequeathing you all unexpectedly far more worldly goods than you had ever hoped to possess; supposing also that you were 'without encumbrances' or ties of any description, and that your sole aim and ambition in this world was the collecting unto yourself of the choicest fruits of master minds: what would be your first act, in so far as your hobby is concerned?

I know what our book-hunter would do under such conditions. He would take the next train to Paris, proceed to a certain shop not a great distance from the Rue St. Honore, mount the step-ladder and hand down to the delighted Henri just precisely what he fancied _in his own particular line_. This process he would continue elsewhere until he had formed a goodly nucleus round which to amass still scarcer volumes as they came to hand. And I venture to think that you would do the same, though not necessarily in Paris.

What is it that makes a man a specialist? Is it a particular knowledge of a certain subject? Do all book-collecting doctors garner only herbals and early medical works? Does the poet-collector specialise in poetry, the freemason in masonic books, the angler in works dealing only with his pastime?

Not always, perhaps; but doubtless this is the case with the great majority of collectors. Sometimes a chance purchase may shape the entire course of a man's collecting, sometimes he is led to the subject to which he devotes his collecting energies by devious byways. Our book-hunter has a friend who began to collect old French books on Chivalry through a touch of influenza. When convalescent his doctor ordered him a sea-voyage. An hour after the advice was given he met a shipping friend, who offered him a cabin in a ship just about to start on a trading voyage in the Mediterranean. At Crete the ship was detained for some repairs, so he took the opportunity to visit Rhodes in a coasting vessel. He was much struck with the famous Street of the Knights and ancient buildings of the great military Order that once owned the island, and regretted that he knew so little about it. Nor did his scanty knowledge of these things enable him to appreciate to the full the buildings of the Order at Malta.

On his return to this country he spent some time at the British Museum, delving into these knightly records of the past, but was unable even then to discover all that he wished to know. So for a time he took up his abode in Paris, working daily at the Archives, the Arsenal Library, and Bibliotheque Nationale. Then came the Library of the Vatican. To-day his collection of ancient works on La Chevalerie, in most of the languages of Europe, is a thing to be proud of, and his sub-collection on the Hospitallers and their commanderies is especially rich. Probably there are few works upon this subject with which he is unacquainted, and the bibliography upon which he is at work bids fair to become the standard volume.

What an immense part Chance plays in all our lives. Some of the most momentous events in the world's history have turned upon the most trivial happenings. Had not a wild boar run in a certain direction, probably there would have been no Norman Conquest of England! Robert of Normandy, out hunting with his friends, roused a boar which, running a certain course, necessitated the duke's return through the village street where he saw and fell in love with the burgess's daughter who became the mother of William the Conqueror. Had the boar run north instead of south, probably Robert would never have seen Arlette, and William would never have been born. Olaf of Norway, the great sea-king whose name was feared from Brittany to the Orkneys, was converted to Christianity by a chance landing at the Scilly Isles, where haply he visited the cell of a holy man that dwelt there.

Let us now draw up a list of those subjects which generally engage the attention of specialists. The list is a lengthy one and offers an infinite variety. Each heading will comprise various sub-headings, and of these I shall speak more in detail.

1. Arctic, Antarctic, Whaling. 2. Africa. 3. Americana. 4. Architecture, Building Construction. 5. Australasia. 6. Bibles. 7. Bibliography, Bookbinding, Printing. 8. Biography, Memoirs, Diaries. 9. Celebrated Authors and Books. 10. Celebrated Presses. 11. Chapbooks, Ballads, Broadsides. 12. Civil War and Commonwealth. 13. Classics. 14. Cookery Books. 15. Costume. 16. Crime and Prisons. 17. Dictionaries, Etymology. 18. Drama, the Stage. 19. Early-printed books. 20. Early Romances. 21. Economics. 22. Facetiae, Curiosa, Books on Gallantry. 23. Fine Arts, including Technique, Theory, Criticism, History of the Arts, Furniture, Tapestries, Decorations, Gems, Ceramics, Plate. 24. First Editions of Esteemed Authors. 25. Folk-lore, Fables, Mysteries. 26. Freemasonry, Rosicrucianism, and Secret Societies. 27. French Revolution. 28. Gardening. 29. Heraldry, Chivalry, Crusades, Genealogy, Peerages, Ceremonies, and books on Seals and Brasses. 30. History and Chronicles. 31. Husbandry, Agriculture. 32. Illustrated Books, Books of Engravings. 33. Legal. 34. Liturgies, Mass and Prayer Books. 35. Locally-printed books. 36. Mathematical and Early Scientific. 37. Medical (Early), including Herbals and Early Botanical. 38. Military, including Archery, Arms, Armour, Fencing, and Duelling. 39. Music. 40. Napoleon. 41. Natural History. 42. Nautical and Naval. 43. Numismatics, Medals. 44. Occult, Astrology, Astronomy, Alchemy, Witchcraft, Magic. 45. Pamphlets and Tracts. 46. Philosophy. 47. Poetry. 48. Privately-printed books. 49. School books. 50. Sport, Games, Pastimes. 51. Theology, Lives and Works of the Early Fathers, History of the Church, Inquisition, works on the Religious Sects. 52. Tobacco. 53. Topography, including Atlases, Geography, and County Histories. 54. Trades. 55. Travels and Exploration. 56. Voyages, Shipwrecks.

From this list are purposely omitted books printed upon vellum, Books of Hours of the Virgin Mary, and illuminated books; for these are rarities within reach of the wealthy only. Nor is 'bindings' included, for the man who collects these is no book-lover in the truest sense of the word, and his hobby does not fall properly within the category of book-collecting, being classed rather under the heading Art and Vertu, Bric-a-Brac, or what you will. Naturally all book-collectors (save perhaps the 'original-boards-uncut' man) are sensible to the charm of a choicely bound copy, provided always that the binding be appropriate and that it is impossible to obtain the book in its original covers; but it is for something more than the mere outsides of his treasures that the real book-lover cares.

Needless to say, there are other subjects which have their devotees. Some collectors specialise in large-paper copies, some prefer certain editions which contain matter suppressed later. Others collect early children's books, gipsy literature, Egyptology, books on inventions, ballooning, etc. But most of these are more in the nature of sub-headings to the subjects in our list, and offer a more restricted field of collecting. Indeed I am in some doubt as to whether the large-paper collector should be included here, for his penchant is as far removed from true book-collecting as is that of the specialist in bindings. His hobby can have nothing to do with literature, since it is only the external characteristics of a book which appeal to him. He may be 'wise in his generation,' but his pursuit approaches closely to bibliomania. This objection may perhaps also be urged against one other subject in our list, namely, privately-printed books. But here there is an ulterior interest beyond the mere singularity of their production; for there are very many books of great merit, chiefly memoirs and family histories, which their authors have designed, from personal and contemporary reasons, to come only into the hands of their own families and acquaintances.

So here is your list, reader, take your choice. But perchance you are already numbered among the elect, one of those _magi_ among bibliophiles who are at once the despair of the booksellers and the wise men of their generation? Is it not to the specialists that we owe the bulk of our knowledge of old books--for who else is it that produce the bibliographies, numerous but not nearly numerous enough, that delight the heart of the collector? All praise to them, and, brother bibliophile, if you are not yet of their number in heart at least, read through the foregoing list once more and put a mark with your pencil against the heading which is most to your taste. If you do not see your chosen subject at once, a scrutiny will probably discover it for you included in another and wider subject.[74] For example, Astronomy and Astrology, inseparably bound up in the ancient works, are included in the heading 'Occult.' Herbals, which deal with the medicinal qualities of plants, you will find under 'Medical.'

Is your purse a long one? Would you not like to garner folios and quartos with weird and heavy types that speak of a craft yet in its infancy; books that perchance have seen or even been handled by the actual combatants of Barnet or of Bosworth Field; books with monstrous crude yet wholly delightful woodcuts that bring before us the actual appearance of our forebears under the King-maker, Richard Crouchback, and Harry Richmond? Or would you like to gather to yourself as many examples as you may, in the finest possible condition, of the exquisite art of Aldo Manuccio the elder? But perhaps the following, from a recent catalogue, represents a class (20) more to your palate.

L'Histoire du tres fameux et tres redoute Palmerin d'Olive . . . . traduite de Castillan en Francoys reueue et derechef mise en son entier, selon nostre vulgaire moderne et usite, par Jean Maugin, dit l'Angeuin. _With_ 45 _large spirited woodcuts (some being nearly full-page) representing duels, battles, etc., and_ 132 _large ornamental initial letters_. Folio, Paris, 1553.

Is your purse a light one? Then fifteenth-century books are denied you, as are all other esteemed works of the Middle Ages such as romances and classics. But there is hardly another heading in our list, save perhaps the first editions of the great authors, which you may not make your own. Almost every subject has its bibliography, and many fresh volumes are added yearly to the ever-increasing list of 'books about books.' You will find what bibliographies have appeared upon your particular subject, up to 1912, by referring to Mr. W. P. Courtney's 'Register of National Bibliography,' which should be (if indeed it is not) in every public library throughout the kingdom.

Some day an enterprising public body will purchase a building with fifty-five rooms (or thereabouts), each of which will contain a small and carefully selected collection of books on each one of these subjects. Each room will have its own catalogue and its own librarian, who will be an expert in the subject over which he presides. The rooms, of course, will vary in size according to the magnitude of the subject and the number of sub-headings which it comprises. Readers will have access to the shelves in almost every case, books of great value alone being kept under lock and key.

How invaluable such a library would be, and what a vast amount of time would all readers be saved! We should know instantly to whom to turn for expert advice upon any subject--for the sub-librarians would naturally be acquainted with more than the mere outsides of the volumes in their charge. We should be able to handle the latest works upon our subject immediately; and we should have, ready to our hand, a history of its literature from the earliest times to the present day.

As to whether the acquisition of knowledge by this method would not turn us all into journalists, however, is another matter.

With the first heading in our list shall be included several others, namely (2) Africa; (5) Australasia; (55) Travels and Explorations (which heading includes every land under the sun not specially mentioned in our list), and (56) Voyages and Shipwrecks; in short, all those subjects which concern 'foreign parts.' They are subjects which are most likely to engage the attentions of collectors who have been seafaring in their time, though, as has been shown in