THOMSON.

On the death of Mr. Drury, his small library, the remains of his former one, was sold by auction; and those classical books, interleaved, and enriched with his manuscript notes, brought large prices. One manuscript, of especial celebrity--_Childe Harold_--given him by the Author, his pupil, Lord Byron--became the property of its publisher, Mr. Murray; who purchased it upon terms at once marking his high sense of the talents of the author, and his respect for the family where it had been placed. It may be doubtful whether the autograph of any poem, since Paradise Lost, would have obtained a larger sum--had it been submitted to public sale.

RINALDO.--Rinaldo was the late Mr. EDWARDS; of the sale of whose library an extended account will be found in my Decameron. It remains, briefly, but emphatically, to remark, that of all the book heroes, whose valorous achievements are here recorded, TWO only have survived the lapse of thirty years. Let _half_ of another similar course of time roll on, and where will the SURVIVORS be? If not at rest in their graves, they will in all probability be "sans teeth, sans eyes, sans everything:"--at least, very far beyond "the lean and slippered pantaloon." Leaving my surviving friends to fight their own battles, I think I may here venture to say, in quiet simplicity and singleness of heart, that books, book-sales, and book-men, will then--if I am spared--pass before me as the faint reflex of "the light of OTHER DAYS!" ... when literary enterprise and literary fame found a proportionate reward; and when the sickly sentimentality of the novelist had not usurped the post of the instructive philologist. But enough of ROSICRUSIS.

[Illustration: CONSTANTIA LABORE ET]

PART IV.

THE LIBRARY.

This Part embraces the _History of Literature_, in the formation of Libraries, from the Conquest to the commencement of the reign of Henry VIII., and undoubtedly contains much that is curious and instructive.

Two new characters only are introduced: LORENZO and NARCOTTUS. The former was intended to represent the late Sir Masterman Mark Sykes, Bart.: the latter, a William Templeman, Esq., of Hare Hatch, Berkshire. Sir Mark Sykes was not less known than respected for the suavity of his manners, the kindness of his disposition, and the liberality of his conduct on all matters connected with _books_ and _prints_. A long and particular account of his library, and of many of his book-purchases, will be seen in the third volume of the _Bibliographical Decameron_; and at pages 321, 373 of my _Literary Reminiscences_. His library and his prints brought, each, pretty much the same sum: together, 60,000--an astounding result! Sir Mark is the last great bibliomaniacal Sun that has shed its golden, as well as parting, rays, upon a terribly chap-fallen British public! Mr.

Templeman, represented as Narcottus, was a great Chess-player: and although Caxton's "Game at Chess" is a mere dull morality, having nothing to do with the game strictly so called, yet he would have everything in his library where the word "Chess" was introduced. In the words of the old catch, he would "add the night unto the day" in the prosecution of his darling recreation, and boasted of having once given a signal defeat to the Rev. Mr. Bowdler, after having been defeated himself by Lord Henry Seymour, the renowned chess-champions of the Isle of Wight. He said he once sat upon Phillidor's knee, who patted his cheek, and told him "there was nothing like Chess and English roast beef."

The notice of poor George Faulkner at page 199--one of the more celebrated book-binders of the day, is amplified at page 524 of the second volume of the Decameron; where the painful circumstances attending his death are slightly mentioned. He yet lives, and lives strongly, in my remembrance. Since then, indeed within a very few years, the famous CHARLES LEWIS--of whose bibliopegistic renown the Decameronic pages have expatiated fully--has ceased to be. He was carried off suddenly by an apoplectic seizure. His eldest son--a sort of "spes altera Romae," in his way--very quickly followed the fate of his father. The name of LEWIS will be always held high in the estimation of bibliopegistic Virtuosi. But the art of Book-binding is not deteriorating: and I am not sure whether JOHN CLARKE, of Frith Street, Soho, be not as "mighty a man" in his way as any of his predecessors. There is a solidity, strength, and squareness of workmanship about his books, which seem to convince you that they may be tossed from the summit of Snowdon to that of Cader Idris without detriment or serious injury. His gilding is first rate; both for choice of ornament and splendour of gold. Nor is his coadjutor, WILLIAM BEDFORD, of less potent renown. He was the great adjunct of the late Charles Lewis--and imbibes the same taste and the same spirit of perseverance. Accident brought me one morning in contact with a set of the New Dugdale's Monasticon, bound in blue morocco, and most gorgeously bound and gilded, lying upon the table of Mr. James Bohn--a mountain of bibliopegistic grandeur! A sort of irrepressible awe kept you back even from turning over the coats or covers! And what a WORK--deserving of pearls and precious stones in its outward garniture! "Who was the happy man to accomplish such a piece of binding?"[477] observed I. "Who BUT John Clarke?"--replied the Bibliopole.

[Footnote 477: Good binding--even Roger-Payne-binding--is gadding abroad every where. At Oxford, they have "a spirit"

of this description who loses a night's rest if he haplessly shave off the sixteenth part of an inch of a rough edge of an uncut Hearne. My friend, Dr. Bliss, has placed volumes before me, from the same mintage, which have staggered belief as an indigenous production of Academic soil. At Reading, also, some splendid leaves are taken from the same _Book_. Mr. Snare, the publisher, keeps one of the most talented bookbinders in the kingdom--from the school of Clarke; and feeds him upon something more substantial than rose leaves and jessamine blossoms. He is a great man for a halequin's jacket: and would have gone crazy at the sight of some of the specimens at Strawberry Hill. No man can put a varied-coloured morocco coat upon the back of a book with greater care, taste, and success, than our Reading Bibliopegist.]

PART V.

THE DRAWING-ROOM.

This Part is a copious continuation of the History of Book Collectors and Collections up to the year 1810. There is nothing to add in the way of CHARACTER; and the subject itself is amply continued in the tenth day of the _Bibliographical Decameron_. In both works will be found, it is presumed, a fund of information and amusement, so that the Reader will scarcely demand an extension of the subject. Indeed, a little volume would hardly suffice to render it the justice which it merits; but I am bound to make special mention of the untameable perseverance, and highly refined taste, of B.G. Windus, Esq., one of my earliest and steadiest supporters; and yet, doth he not rather take up a sitting in the ALCOVE--amongst _Illustrators of fine Works_?

[Illustration: THE CAVE OF DESPAIR.

_Drawn by J. Thurston.--Engraved by Robert Branston._]

PART VI.

THE ALCOVE.

A word only:--and that respecting _Illustrated Copies_. Leaving Mr.

Windus in full possession of his Raphael Morghens, William Woollets, William Sharpes, &c.--and allowing him the undisturbed relish of gazing upon, and pressing to his heart's core, his _grey_ TURNERS--let me only introduce to the reader's critical attention and admiration the opposite subject, executed by the late Mr. Branston, and exhibiting _The Cave of Despair_ from Spenser's Fairy Queen. The figures were drawn on the blocks by the late J. Thurston, Esq.

=Illustrated Copies.=

Under the _Illustration_-Symptom of Bibliomania, a fund of amusing anecdote, as well as of instructive detail, presents itself. We may travel in a carriage and four--from morn 'till night--and sweep county after county, in pursuit of all that is exquisite, and rare, and precious, and unattainable in other quarters: but I doubt if our horses' heads can be turned in a direction better calculated to answer all the ends in view than in front of

[Illustration: RAVENSBURY LODGE, LOWER MITCHAM,]

the residence of the late proprietor of this work. There we once beheld such a copy of the best of all existing _Encyclopaedias_--that of the late Dr. REES--as is no where else to be found. It was upon _large_ and _fine_ paper--bound in fourscore volumes--with separately executed title pages, in a style of pure art--and _illustrated_ with not fewer than TEN THOUSAND EXTRA PLATES. The reader may, and will, naturally enough, judge of the wide, if not boundless, field for illustration--comprehending in fact (as the title of the work denounces) the circle of all knowledge, arts and sciences; but he can have no idea of the _manner_ in which this fertile and illimitable field is filled up, till he gazes upon the copy in question. Here then was not only a _reading_, but a _graphic_, LIBRARY IN ITSELF. Whatever other works _profusely_ dilate upon was here _concentrated_--and deeply impressed upon the mind by the charm, as well as the intelligence, of graphical ornament. You seemed to want nothing, as, upon the turning over of every leaf, the prodigality of art ennobled, while it adorned, the solidity of the text. You have kept your horses already waiting three hours--and they are neighing and snorting for food: and you must turn them into the stable for suitable provender--for the owner of this production would tell you that you had scarcely traversed through one-third of the contents of the volumes. He orders an additional fowl to be placed on the spit, and an extra flagon of Combe and Delafield's brightest ale to be forth-coming: while his orchard supplies the requisite addenda of mulberries, pears, and apples, to flank the veritable Lafitte. You drink and are merry. Then comes the Argand Lamp; and down with the Encyclopedistic volumes. The plates look brighter and more beautiful.

There is no end of them--nor limits to your admiration. Be it summer or winter, there is food for sustenance, and for the gratification of the most exquisite palate. To contemplate SUCH a performance, the thorough-bred book-votary would travel by torch-light through forty-eight hours of successive darkness!...: But the horses are again neighing--for their homes. You must rouse the slumbering post-boy: for "The bell of the church-clock strikes ONE."

P.S.--The late Mr. WALMSLEY--who employed me to print this present edition--narrowly watched all our movements, and was much gratified by the appearance of the work, so far as it had gone before his death--frequently urged me to append a short account of the progress of our art during the last thirty years--i.e. since the publication of the former edition of _Bibliomania_.

The subject is too diffuse for a mere note: and during the life-time of so many able printers as now exercise their calling in the metropolis, it would be invidious to particularize eminence in our profession (whereas among our immediate predecessors it is, perhaps just to say that there were only _two_ printers of great celebrity, the late _Mr. Bulmer_ and my late father). I shall therefore merely mention some events which have had such influence on our art as that the case is now very different to what it was thirty years ago, when the good execution of printing at once testified to the skill and industry of the printer--as he could command neither good _presses_, _types_, nor _ink_, &c.--paper being then almost the only matter to be had in perfection.

We have _now_ excellent and powerful iron presses--Stanhopes, Columbians, Imperials, &c. _Then_ the celebrated specimens of typography were produced by _miserable_ wooden presses. We have _now_ ink of splendid lustre, at a fourth of the cost of fabrication _then_--for both Mr. Bulmer and my father were perpetually trying expensive experiments--and not always succeeding: our ink is now to be depended on for _standing_, it works freely, and can be had at reasonable prices at the extensive factory of Messrs. SHACKELL and LYONS, Clerkenwell, who made the ink used for this work.

There are several eminent engineers who make the best of presses. Our _letter_ may safely be pronounced, if not perfect, as near perfection as it will ever reach--and while the celebrated type-foundries of Messrs. CASLON, Chiswell Street, and Messrs. FIGGINS, West Street, are within the reach of the metropolitan printers, there can be no excuse for failing to execute good printing on the score of inferior type.

The substitution of the _inking roller_, instead of the cumbrous and inconvenient old balls, has much eased the labours of the pressman and facilitated the regularity of colour. The inking roller at the hand press was adopted, and offered to the printers generally, by my friend, Mr. APPLEGATH, shortly after _steam-printing_ was introduced by my father--about which so much has been said in periodical publications, &c., that it is needless here to enlarge on the subject--more especially as it is principally applicable to work of inferior character, newspapers, reviews, magazines, &c.; and, further, it is not a very tempting subject to the son of him who was led to devote the energies of the latter years of his active life, and the well-earned fortune which his great typographical celebrity had secured, to the adoption of a mode of printing which, how much soever it may benefit newspaper proprietors and others--certainly has done any thing but benefit his family; and has thus added another instance to the many on record of the ill success attending the patronage of inventors.

B. BENSLEY.

_Woking, Surrey, June_ 18, 1842.

FINISH.