A good example of the toils of the collector in pursuit of perfection is given by M. Henri Beraldi in his very amusing catalogue of M. Paillet’s library.  This book, by the way, is itself scarce, and the bibliomaniac will be rather lucky if he meets with it.  M. Beraldi describes M. Paillet’s copy of Dorat’s “Fables,” published in 1773, with illustrations by Marillier.  Nobody perhaps ever reads Dorat now, but his book came out in the very palmiest days of the art of illustration in France.  There were no photogravures then, nor hideous, scratchy, and seamy “processes,” such as almost make one despair of progress and of the future of humanity.  The people that takes to “processes” is lost!  The illustrations of the “Fables” were duly engraved on copper.  There were ninety-nine vignettes, and as many tail-pieces.  The bibliographical history of the book is instructive, either to young collectors or to the common herd, not to speak impolitely—­the persons who do not understand what collectors want.  The “Fables” were originally published on three different sorts of paper, Dutch paper at seventy-two francs, French paper at twenty-nine francs, and on “small paper” at twenty-four francs.  In 1853 the original drawings were bought by one of the Rothschilds for about 60 pounds; they would now, probably, be worth at least 1,000 pounds.  The ordinary copies of the book itself bring about 6 pounds, the large paper copies about 30 pounds, and a copy in old morocco can hardly be estimated—­you may pay anything for it, as a copy in old calf has sold for 240 pounds.

Such is the natural history of a book pretty valueless as literature, the “Fables” of Dorat.  In the early edition of “Brunet’s Manual,” published in 1821, the large paper copies of the work, with the engravings in the earliest state, are priced at from fifteen to eighteen francs.  These vignettes had gone out of fashion; they have come in again with a vengeance.  The high prices, eighty or a hundred pounds, are merely the beginning of what the great collectors are ready to pay, and to do, and to suffer in the cause of Dorat.  In M. Cohen’s catalogue of all these old illustrated books special mention is made of M. Paillet’s copy of the “Fables.”  It is “a superb example, with all the engravings printed separately.”  But M. Paillet describes this specimen far more lovingly.  All the designs are separately printed, and, oh joy! all have all their margins uncut.  The book is “all that man can dream of” in the way of perfection.  Cuzin did the binding, in yellow morocco, tooled with roses and butterflies.  “Reader,” cries M. Beraldi, “if you are not a collector you cannot imagine the difficulty of getting such a copy.  It is the thirteenth labour of Hercules.”  First you buy your text, then you must have the separately printed fleurons.  These can only be picked up here and there, in sales and stalls.  Perhaps you purchase half of them in one lucky investment.