The Book-Hunter at Home | Page 8

of his books,' yet 'in no wise
he wolde graunt for no price.' So Vaughan entreats Thomas Cromwell
to obtain a copy for him, 'not doubtyng but though he unkyndly denyd
me one, he will not denye youe one.'
Apparently Palsgrave had entered into some kind of arrangement with
the printer, for Vaughan writes that he 'hathe willed Pynson to sell none
of them to any other person than to suche as he shall comaunde to have
them, lest his proffit by teching the Frenche tonge myght be mynished
by the sale of the same to suche persons as, besids hym, wern disposed
to studye the sayd tongue.'
From this premise it is easy to understand why 'L'Esclarcissement' is
such a rare book. Very few copies indeed are known to exist. Yet one
cannot help wondering what became of the copies that had not been
disposed of at the author's death. Possibly a very small number was
printed, and perhaps 'Johan Haukyns,' faithful to his pact, destroyed
those on hand. That the book was in high esteem may be gathered from
the fact that, in spite of his rebuff, Vaughan says: 'If I had one, I wolde
no less exteme it then a Jewell.' The letter ends with a delightful burst
of ingenuousness. 'Syr, I remember Mr. Palsgrave gave youe one of his
books, which if it please you to geve me I wer muche bounde to youe.'
Whether he obtained a copy in the end history does not relate; but if our
book-hunter is ever so fortunate as to come across one, like Vaughan he
will certainly 'no less exteme it then a Jewell.'
Very many, indeed the vast majority, of the popular jest-books which
appeared in such numbers during Queen Elizabeth's reign are now lost
to us. Some are known by later quotation of their titles, others by later
editions, such as 'The Life of Long Meg of Westminster,' 'A Lytle and

Bryefe Treatyse called the Defence of Women,'[5] etc. But these were
small volumes of few pages, and were doubtless considered as little
worthy of preservation as is the modern 'penny dreadful.' 'But, when we
consider how very many of these early books have come down to our
time only in single copies or even fragments out of an edition of some
hundreds, it is only natural to suppose that a great number must have
utterly disappeared.'[6]
It is not for want of enterprise that so many of these books have not so
far been recovered. The smaller and more remote towns, even villages,
of these islands and the Continent have been, and are being, ransacked
by dealers as well as collectors. The number of works hitherto
undescribed that has been brought to light during the last sixty years
must be considerable; and one still hears every now and then of some
rich trover that has been unearthed. In 1887 a small octavo manuscript
volume, in a worn brown binding, was offered at the end of a sale at
Sotheby's. It had stood, for how long no man knows, on the shelf of a
small parish library in Suffolk; and it was offered for sale 'presumably
as being unreadable to country folk, and capable of being turned into
hard cash wherewith a few works of fiction might be purchased.'
Acquired by the Bodleian Library for £6, it proved, by perhaps one of
the most romantic chains of evidence ever attached to a book,[7] to be
the favourite devotional volume and constant companion of Saint
Margaret, Queen of Scotland, who died in 1093. It was not until 1905
that the original quarto edition (1594) of Shakespeare's 'Titus
Andronicus' was known to exist, when a copy was discovered and sold
for £2000.
Books travel far afield. At the dissolution of the monasteries the rich
libraries that many of them possessed were scattered far and wide. One
of these religious houses was famed for its rich store of books; and that
the report was not exaggerated we know from its ancient library
catalogue, still extant. In this case some of the books were taken by the
inmates with them into exile in Flanders; and when the small
community migrated thence to Portugal, the precious tomes were
carried reverently with them. A fire at their convent in 1651 destroyed a
large number of the volumes, and when some of the nuns returned to

England in 1809 they brought the remaining books with them. Some
were sold, but three cases of these ancient books were sent back to the
nuns who stayed behind in Portugal, and of these cases two were lost in
transit.
London, however, has always been the centre of book production in
this country, and it is there that any existing copies of these forgotten
books are most likely to re-appear.