The Bibliotaph

The Bibliotaph, by Leon H.
Vincent

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Title: The Bibliotaph and Other People
Author: Leon H. Vincent
Release Date: May 2, 2007 [EBook #21272]
Language: English
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THE BIBLIOTAPH
And Other People

BY
LEON H. VINCENT

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND
COMPANY The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1899

COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY LEON H. VINCENT ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

TO MY FATHER THE REV. B. T. VINCENT, D.D. THIS LITTLE
VOLUME IS Dedicated WITH LOVE AND ADMIRATION

Four of these papers--the first Bibliotaph, and the notes on Keats,
Gautier, and Stevenson's St. Ives--are reprinted from the Atlantic
Monthly by the kind permission of the editor.
I am also indebted to the literary editor of the Springfield Republican
and to the editors of Poet-Lore, respectively, for allowing me to reprint
the paper on Thomas Hardy and the lecture on An Elizabethan Novelist.

CONTENTS
THE BIBLIOTAPH: A PORTRAIT NOT WHOLLY IMAGINARY
THE BIBLIOTAPH: HIS FRIENDS, SCRAP-BOOKS, AND 'BINS'
LAST WORDS ON THE BIBLIOTAPH THOMAS HARDY A
READING IN THE LETTERS OF JOHN KEATS AN
ELIZABETHAN NOVELIST THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A
FAIR-MINDED MAN CONCERNING A RED WAISTCOAT
STEVENSON: THE VAGABOND AND THE PHILOSOPHER
STEVENSON'S ST. IVES

THE BIBLIOTAPH AND OTHER PEOPLE

THE BIBLIOTAPH: A PORTRAIT NOT WHOLLY IMAGINARY
A popular and fairly orthodox opinion concerning book-collectors is
that their vices are many, their virtues of a negative sort, and their ways
altogether past finding out. Yet the most hostile critic is bound to admit
that the fraternity of bibliophiles is eminently picturesque. If their
doings are inscrutable, they are also romantic; if their vices are
numerous, the heinousness of those vices is mitigated by the fact that it
is possible to sin humorously. Regard him how you will, the sayings
and doings of the collector give life and color to the pages of those
books which treat of books. He is amusing when he is purely an
imaginary creature. For example, there was one Thomas Blinton. Every
one who has ever read the volume called Books and Bookmen knows
about Thomas Blinton. He was a man who wickedly adorned his
volumes with morocco bindings, while his wife 'sighed in vain for
some old point d'Alençon lace.' He was a man who was capable of
bidding fifteen pounds for a Foppens edition of the essays of
Montaigne, though fifteen pounds happened to be 'exactly the amount
which he owed his plumber and gas-fitter, a worthy man with a large
family.' From this fictitious Thomas Blinton all the way back to
Richard Heber, who was very real, and who piled up books as other
men heap together vulgar riches, book-collectors have been a
picturesque folk.
The name of Heber suggests the thought that all men who buy books
are not bibliophiles. He alone is worthy the title who acquires his
volumes with something like passion. One may buy books like a
gentleman, and that is very well. One may buy books like a gentleman
and a scholar, which counts for something more. But to be truly of the
elect one must resemble Richard Heber, and buy books like a
gentleman, a scholar, and a madman.
You may find an account of Heber in an old file of The Gentleman's

Magazine. He began in his youth by making a library of the classics.
Then he became interested in rare English books, and collected them
con amore for thirty years. He was very rich, and he had never given
hostages to fortune; it was therefore possible for him to indulge his fine
passion without stint. He bought only the best books, and he bought
them by thousands and by tens of thousands. He would have held as
foolishness that saying from the Greek which exhorts one to do nothing
too much. According to Heber's theory, it is impossible to have too
many good books. Usually one library is supposed to be enough for one
man. Heber was satisfied only with eight libraries, and then he was
hardly satisfied. He had a library in his house at Hodnet. 'His residence
in Pimlico, where he died, was filled, like Magliabecchi's at Florence,
with books from the top to the bottom; every chair, every table, every
passage containing piles of erudition.' He had a house in York Street
which was crowded with books. He