Germany, too, the very birth-place of Printing, allows similar destruction to go on unchecked, if the following letter, which appeared about a Year ago (1879) in the Academy has any truth in it:—­

“For some time past the condition of the library at Wolfenbuttel has been most disgraceful.  The building is in so unsafe a condition that portions of the walls and ceilings have fallen in, and the many treasures in Books and MSS. contained in it are exposed to damp and decay.  An appeal has been issued that this valuable collection may not be allowed to perish for want of funds, and that it may also be now at length removed to Brunswick, since Wolfenbuttel is entirely deserted as an intellectual centre.  No false sentimentality regarding the memory of its former custodians, Leibnitz and Lessing, should hinder this project.  Lessing himself would have been the first to urge that the library and its utility should be considered above all things.”

The collection of books at Wolfenbuttel is simply magnificent, and I cannot but hope the above report was exaggerated.  Were these books to be injured for the want of a small sum spent on the roof, it would be a lasting disgrace to the nation.  There are so many genuine book-lovers in Fatherland that the commission of such a crime would seem incredible, did not bibliographical history teem with similar desecrations.[1]

[1] This was written in 1879, since which time a new building has been erected.

Water in the form of vapour is a great enemy of books, the damp attacking both outside and inside.  Outside it fosters the growth of a white mould or fungus which vegetates upon the edges of the leaves, upon the sides and in the joints of the binding.  It is easily wiped off, but not without leaving a plain mark, where the mould-spots have been.  Under the microscope a mould-spot is seen to be a miniature forest of lovely trees, covered with a beautiful white foliage, upas trees whose roots are embedded in the leather and destroy its texture.

Inside the book, damp encourages the growth of those ugly brown spots which so often disfigure prints and “livres de luxe.”  Especially it attacks books printed in the early part of this century, when paper-makers had just discovered that they could bleach their rags, and perfectly white paper, well pressed after printing, had become the fashion.  This paper from the inefficient means used to neutralise the bleach, carried the seeds of decay in itself, and when exposed to any damp soon became discoloured with brown stains.  Dr. Dibdin’s extravagant bibliographical works are mostly so injured; and although the Doctor’s bibliography is very incorrect, and his spun-out inanities and wearisome affectations often annoy one, yet his books are so beautifully illustrated, and he is so full of personal anecdote and chit chat, that it grieves the heart to see “foxey” stains common in his most superb works.