“TITLEPAGES AND FRONTISPIECES.

A Collection of upwards of 800 ENGRAVED TITLES AND FRONTISPIECES, ENGLISH AND FOREIGN (some very fine and curious) taken from old books and neatly mounted on cartridge paper in 3 vol, half morocco gilt. imp. folio.”

The only collection of title-pages which has afforded me unalloyed pleasure is a handsome folio, published by the directors of the Plantin Museum, Antwerp, in 1877, just after the purchase of that wonderful typographical storehouse.  It is called “Titels en Portretten gesneden naar P. P. Rubens voor de Plantijnsche Drukkerij,” and it contains thirty-five grand title pages, reprinted from the original seventeenth century plates, designed by Rubens himself between the years 1612 and 1640, for various publications which issued from the celebrated Plantin Printing Office.  In the same Museum are preserved in Rubens’ own handwriting his charge for each design, duly receipted at foot.

I have now before me a fine copy of “Coclusiones siue decisiones antique dnor’ de Rota,” printed by Gutenberg’s partner, Schoeffer, in the year 1477.  It is perfect, except in a most vital part, the Colophon, which has been cut out by some barbaric “Collector,” and which should read thus:  “Pridie nonis Januarii Mcccclxxvij, in Civitate Moguntina, impressorie Petrus Schoyffer de Gernsheym,” followed by his well-known mark, two shields.

A similar mania arose at the beginning of this century for collections of illuminated initials, which were taken from MSS., and arranged on the pages of a blank book in alphabetical order.  Some of our cathedral libraries suffered severely from depredations of this kind.  At Lincoln, in the early part of this century, the boys put on their robes in the library, a room close to the choir.  Here were numerous old MSS., and eight or ten rare Caxtons.  The choir boys used often to amuse themselves, while waiting for the signal to “fall in,” by cutting out with their pen-knives the illuminated initials and vignettes, which they would take into the choir with them and pass round from one to another.  The Dean and Chapter of those days were not much better, for they let Dr. Dibdin have all their Caxtons for a “consideration.”  He made a little catalogue of them, which he called “A Lincolne Nosegaye.”  Eventually they were absorbed into the collection at Althorp.

The late Mr. Caspari was a “destroyer” of books.  His rare collection of early woodcuts, exhibited in 1877 at the Caxton Celebration, had been frequently augmented by the purchase of illustrated books, the plates of which were taken out, and mounted on Bristol boards, to enrich his collection.  He once showed me the remains of a fine copy of “Theurdanck,” which he had served so, and I have now before me several of the leaves which he then gave me, and which, for beauty of engraving and cleverness of typography, surpasses any typographical work known to me.  It was printed for the Emperor Maximilian, by Hans Schonsperger, of Nuremberg, and, to make it unique, all the punches were cut on purpose, and as many as seven or eight varieties of each letter, which, together with the clever way in which the ornamental flourishes are carried above and below the line, has led even experienced printers to deny its being typography.  It is, nevertheless, entirely from cast types.  A copy in good condition costs about L50.