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;