The Book-Lovers' Anthology — Context and Discussion

The Editor's Thread: Montaigne's Nosegay

Leonard's preface explicitly frames the anthology as a compilation rather than an original work, quoting Montaigne: 'I have but gathered a nosegay of strange floures, and have put nothing of mine into it but the thred to binde them.' This metaphor of binding—both literal and figurative—echoes through the collection. The editor's role is that of a gatherer, not a creator, yet the selection itself implies a canon of book-love. The preface names Richard de Bury as 'the founder of the order of book-lovers in England' and praises King James, Bacon, Burton, Florio, Ben Jonson, Milton, Dr. Johnson, Southey, Lamb, Leigh Hunt, Hazlitt, Crabbe, John Foster, Bulwer Lytton, and the Brownings. This list establishes a tradition that the anthology seeks to enshrine, but the excerpts themselves often undercut solemnity with wit or domesticity.

Books as Beasts and Angels: Personification in Verse and Prose

Several selections personify books or address them directly. In Richard de Bury's Philobiblon, books speak for themselves, complaining of being 'expelled with heart and hand' from clergy homes, replaced by 'hounds and hawks, and sometimes a biped beast; woman to wit.' The books accuse women of being 'jealous of our studies' and 'implacable,' recommending books be bartered for 'costly head-dresses, cambric, silk.' This anthropomorphic complaint contrasts with Crashaw's poem 'On a Prayer Booke,' where the book is an 'angel by the wings' that 'gladly would be nigh, To wait upon each morning sigh.' The shift from hostile to devotional personification shows the anthology's range. Landor's 'Sent with Poems' addresses a 'Little volume, warm with wishes,' advising it to 'Fear not brows that never frown!'—a playful command that treats the book as a nervous emissary.

Gift-Giving and Inscriptions: The Book as Token

Several poems in the anthology are explicitly tied to the act of giving a book as a gift. Praed's 'To Helen' is 'Written in the first leaf of Keble's Christian Year, a birthday Present.' The poem recounts how the volume became 'a magic key' and 'a mystic sign' between the speaker and Helen, binding 'spirit to spirit, mind to mind.' The book is not just a container of text but a medium of intimacy. Similarly, Crashaw's poem is presented as a sacrifice 'To kindle this his sacrifice,' with the beloved's hands untying the strings to release an angel. These poems emphasize the physical book as a token of affection, its margins and flyleaves becoming spaces for personal inscription. The anthology itself, as a collection, mirrors this gesture: it is a gift to the reader, a curated set of tributes meant to inspire a similar love.

Humor and the Supernatural: The Ghost of Betty Barnes

Amid the reverent tributes, the anthology includes a comic prose piece, 'The Ghost of Betty Barnes,' in which the narrator encounters a female form with 'mob-cap, bib, and apron, sleeves tucked up to the elbow, a dredging-box in the one hand, and in the other a sauce-ladle.' Mistaking her for a cook-maid walking in her sleep, he is corrected: 'Hold, sir! I am not what you take me for.' The ghost speaks in a 'peculiarly hollow sound,' blending domestic imagery with the supernatural. This piece provides a counterpoint to the more earnest selections, showing that book-love can accommodate humor and the absurd. The ghost's appearance—a cook with kitchen tools—also subtly echoes de Bury's complaint about women and domesticity, but here the tone is playful rather than misogynistic. The anthology thus moves between high reverence and low comedy, reflecting the breadth of attitudes toward books.

Leonard's anthology does not argue a single thesis but presents a mosaic of voices, from the devotional to the satirical. Readers may find it useful to dip into sections rather than read straight through, noting how each piece reframes the relationship between reader and book. The recurring imagery of binding, gift-giving, and personification invites reflection on what it means to love a book as a physical object. Whether approached as a historical document or a source of quotations, this collection rewards attention to its structure and the conversations it stages between its selections.

There’s something tender about how The Book-Lovers’ Anthology holds all those old voices who simply adored the heft of pages—it made me think of another quiet companion, Books and Bookmen — Story, Setting & Ideas, and how it lingers like a shared secret between friends. I keep thinking of that feeling, not the arguments, just the warmth of it.