The Book-Hunter in London
by W. Roberts · English · Gutenberg #22607 · 688,665 chars · public domain (US)
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book-Hunter in London
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The Book-Hunter in London
Author: W. Roberts
Release date: September 15, 2007 [eBook #22607]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22607
Credits: Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Christine D., Lisa Reigel,
and the booksmiths at http://www.eBookForge.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK-HUNTER IN LONDON ***
Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Christine D., Lisa Reigel,
and the booksmiths at http://www.eBookForge.net
Transcriber's Note: Some typographical and punctuation errors have been
corrected. A complete list follows the text. Words in Greek in the
original are transliterated and placed between +plus signs+. Words
italicized in the original are surrounded by _underscores_.
THE BOOK-HUNTER IN LONDON.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: '_His soul was never so staked down as in a bookseller's
shop._'
ROGER NORTH.]
THE
BOOK-HUNTER IN LONDON
Historical and other Studies of Collectors
and Collecting
_WITH NUMEROUS PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS_
BY
W. ROBERTS
_Author of
'The Earlier History of English Bookselling,'
'Printers' Marks,' etc._
LONDON
ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1895
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE xiii
INTRODUCTION xv
EARLY BOOK-HUNTING 1
BOOK-HUNTING AFTER THE INTRODUCTION OF PRINTING 12
FROM THE OLD TO THE NEW 44
BOOK-AUCTIONS AND SALES 98
BOOKSTALLS AND BOOKSTALLING 149
SOME BOOK-HUNTING LOCALITIES 168
WOMEN AS BOOK-COLLECTORS 259
BOOK THIEVES, BORROWERS, AND KNOCK-OUTS 274
SOME HUMOURS OF BOOK-CATALOGUES 293
SOME MODERN COLLECTORS 299
INDEX 323
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
'HIS SOUL WAS NEVER SO STAKED DOWN AS IN A
BOOKSELLER'S SHOP.'--ROGER NORTH _Frontispiece_
IN A SCRIPTORIUM 2
LAMBETH PALACE LIBRARY 5
ROMAN BOOKS AND WRITING MATERIALS 11
EARL OF ARUNDEL'S BADGE 16
SIR ROBERT COTTON 21
SIR JULIUS CÆSAR'S TRAVELLING LIBRARY 22
ARCHBISHOP USHER 26
WOTTON HOUSE IN 1840 28
MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD 29
SIR HANS SLOANE'S MONUMENT 30
LITTLE BRITAIN IN 1550 33
CHARLES, THIRD EARL OF SUNDERLAND 37
LONDON HOUSE, ALDERSGATE STREET, 1808 40
ST. BERNARD'S SEAL 43
MR. AUSTIN DOBSON 45
WILLIAM BECKFORD, BOOK-COLLECTOR 48
GEORGE JOHN, EARL SPENCER 51
JOHN, DUKE OF ROXBURGHE, BOOK-COLLECTOR 52
A CORNER IN THE ALTHORP LIBRARY 53
MICHAEL WODHULL, BOOK-COLLECTOR 57
GEORGE NICOL, THE KING'S BOOKSELLER 60
THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN, BIBLIOGRAPHER 63
REV. C. MORDAUNT CRACHERODE, M.A., BOOK-COLLECTOR 65
J. O. HALLIWELL-PHILLIPPS 71
CANONBURY TOWER, GEORGE DANIEL'S RESIDENCE 73
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 76
LAMB'S COTTAGE AT COLEBROOK ROW, ISLINGTON 77
WILLIAM HAZLITT 78
THOMAS HILL, AFTER MACLISE 79
SAMUEL ROGERS'S HOUSE IN ST. JAMES'S PLACE 81
SAMUEL ROGERS 82
ALEXANDER DYCE, BOOK-COLLECTOR 83
W. J. THOMS, BOOK-COLLECTOR 88
HOLLINGBURY COPSE, THE RESIDENCE OF THE LATE MR.
HALLIWELL-PHILLIPPS 91
JOHN DUNTON, BOOK-AUCTIONEER IN 1698 101
SAMUEL BAKER, THE FOUNDER OF SOTHEBY'S 102
SAMUEL LEIGH SOTHEBY 104
MR. E. G. HODGE, OF SOTHEBY'S 105
A FIELD-DAY AT SOTHEBY'S 106
KEY TO THE CHARACTERS IN THE 'FIELD-DAY AT SOTHEBY'S' 107
R. H. EVANS, BOOK-AUCTIONEER, 1812 109
JOHN WALKER, BOOK-AUCTIONEER, 1776 112
STAIRCASE AT PUTTICK AND SIMPSON'S 113
THE LATE HENRY STEVENS, OF VERMONT 115
MR. JAMES CHRISTIE, 'THE SPECIOUS ORATOR' 117
BENJAMIN HEATH, BOOK-COLLECTOR, 1738 123
SPECIMEN OF TYPE OF THE MAZARIN BIBLE 125
A CORNER IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM 127
ALDUS, FROM A CONTEMPORARY MEDAL 129
THE FIFTY-SEVEN ALTHORP CAXTONS 134
FROM 'GAME AND PLAY OF CHESSE,' BY CAXTON 135
SPECIMEN OF THE TYPE OF 'THE BOKE OF ST. ALBANS' 137
SPECIMEN PAGE OF TYNDALE'S TESTAMENT, 1526 138
JOHN MURRAY, OF SACOMB, BOOK-HUNTER 139
TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION OF 'THE COMPLEAT
ANGLER' 144
FROM THE 'PILGRIM'S PROGRESS,' PART II. 145
CORNELIUS WALFORD, BOOK-COLLECTOR 152
THE SOUTH SIDE OF HOLYWELL STREET 153
EXETER 'CHANGE IN 1826 154
A BARROW IN WHITECHAPEL 155
A BOOK-BARROW IN FARRINGDON ROAD 158
A FEW TYPES IN FARRINGDON ROAD 159
HENRY LEMOINE, AUTHOR AND BOOKSELLER 161
THE LATE EDMUND HODGSON, BOOK-AUCTIONEER 164
ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, 1606. FROM THE CRACE COLLECTION 169
THOMAS BRITTON, 'THE SMALL-COAL MAN,' COLLECTOR OF
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS AND MSS. 173
DUKE STREET, LITTLE BRITAIN, FORMERLY CALLED DUCK LANE 175
CHARLES LAMB, AFTER D. MACLISE 177
OLD HOUSES IN MOORFIELDS 178
JONES AND CO. (SUCCESSORS TO LACKINGTON) 180
INTERIOR OF LACKINGTON'S SHOP 181
LACKINGTON'S HALFPENNY 182
THE POULTRY IN 1550 184
THE OLD MANSION HOUSE, CHEAPSIDE 185
GILBERT AND FIELD'S SHOP IN COPTHALL COURT 186
E. GEORGE'S (LATE GLADDING'S) SHOP, WHITECHAPEL ROAD 188
MIDDLE ROW, HOLBORN, 1865 195
WILLIAM DARTON, BOOKSELLER 197
INTERIOR OF DARTON'S SHOP, HOLBORN HILL 198
JAMES WESTELL'S, 114, OXFORD STREET 200
SALKELD'S SHOP--'IVY HOUSE'--IN CLAPHAM ROAD 203
JOHN BAGFORD, SHOEMAKER AND BOOK-DESTROYER 204
MR. TREGASKIS'S SHOP--'THE CAXTON HEAD'--IN HOLBORN 205
DAY'S CIRCULATING LIBRARY IN MOUNT STREET 207
PATERNOSTER ROW ON A BANK HOLIDAY 209
JOHN EVELYN, BOOK-COLLECTOR 212
NEWBERY'S SHOP IN ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD 213
CHARLES TILT'S SHOP 221
BUTCHER ROW, 1798 224
CHARLES HUTT'S HOUSE IN CLEMENT'S INN PASSAGE 226
MR. WILLIAM D. REEVES, BOOKSELLER 227
MESSRS. HILL AND SON'S SHOP IN HOLYWELL STREET 231
MESSRS. SOTHERAN'S SHOP IN PICCADILLY 233
HONEST TOM PAYNE 239
HENRY G. BOHN, BOOKSELLER 243
JOHN H. BOHN 244
MR. F. S. ELLIS 245
A CORNER AT ELLIS AND ELVEY'S 246
WESTMINSTER HALL WHEN OCCUPIED BY BOOKSELLERS AND
OTHERS 247
JOHN HATCHARD (1768-1849) 252
JAMES TOOVEY, BOOKSELLER 253
JAMES TOOVEY'S SHOP, PICCADILLY 254
BERNARD QUARITCH, THE NAPOLEON OF BOOKSELLERS 256
QUEEN ELIZABETH'S GOLDEN MANUAL OF PRAYERS (FRONT
COVER) 262
QUEEN ELIZABETH'S GOLDEN MANUAL OF PRAYERS (BACK
COVER) 263
THE FRONTISPIECE TO 'THE LADIES' LIBRARY' OF STEELE 266
ELIZABETH PINDAR'S BOOKPLATE 267
THE ESHTON HALL LIBRARY 269
'EARNING HIS DINNER' 275
THE KING'S LIBRARY, BRITISH MUSEUM 276
'STEALS A BOOK, PLACES IT IN A NOVELETTE, AND WALKS
AWAY' 280
'HE HAD PLACED THE BOOK IN HIS POCKET. SOMEONE HAD
RELIEVED HIM OF IT' 282
THE LATE HENRY HUTH, BOOK-COLLECTOR 300
MR. HENRY H. GIBBS, BOOK-COLLECTOR 302
MR. R. COPLEY CHRISTIE, BOOK-COLLECTOR 303
THE LATE FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON 312
PORTRAIT BOOKPLATE OF MR. JOSEPH KNIGHT 313
'AN ORDER FROM MR. GLADSTONE' 315
PORTRAIT BOOKPLATE OF MR. H. S. ASHBEE 316
MR. T. J. WISE, BOOK-COLLECTOR 317
MR. CLEMENT SHORTER'S BOOKPLATE 318
MR. A. BIRRELL, BOOK-COLLECTOR 319
FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE, 'PILGRIM'S PROGRESS,' FIRST
EDITION 321
[Illustration: _Roman Book-box._]
PREFACE.
_'THE Book-hunter in London' is put forth as a contribution to the
fascinating history of book-collecting in the metropolis; it does not
pretend to be a complete record of a far-reaching subject, which a dozen
volumes would not exhaust; the present work, however, is the first
attempt to deal with it in anything like a comprehensive manner, but of
how far or in what degree this attempt is successful the reader himself
must decide._
_The task itself has been an exceedingly pleasant one to the author, and
it only remains for him to thank, collectively, the large number of
friends and acquaintances who have so cordially favoured him with advice
and information on so many points. In only a couple of quite unimportant
instances has he experienced anything approaching churlishness. The
geniality and courtesy of the book-collector are proverbial, but
specimens of a different type are evidently to be found here and there._
_As regards the chapter on Modern Collectors, the author's object has
been to deal with a representative selection of the bibliophiles of
to-day. To aim at anything like completeness in this section of the book
would be highly undesirable, having regard to a proportionate
representation of the subject as a whole. Completeness, moreover, would
be an impossibility, even in a volume devoted entirely to modern men._
_The greatest possible care has been taken to prevent inaccuracy of any
kind, but whilst freedom from error is a consummation which every author
desires, it is also one of which few can boast. The reader will be doing
the author a favour by informing him of any mistake which may be
detected in the following pages. An omission in the account of Stewart,
the founder of Puttick's, may be here made good: he had the privilege of
selling David Garrick's choice library in 1823. The author regrets to
learn that Purcell (p. 165), a very intelligent bookseller, died some
months ago._
_'The Book-hunter in London' is the outcome not only of material which
has been accumulating for many years past, from published and
unpublished sources, but also of a long and pleasant intercourse with
the leading book-collectors and booksellers in London, not to mention a
vigorous and constant prosecution of one of the most pleasant and
instructive of hobbies. The author has freely availed himself of the
information in the works of Dibdin, Nichols, and other writers on the
subject, but their statements have been verified whenever possible, and
acknowledgements have been made in the proper places to the authorities
laid under contribution._
_W. R._
86, GROSVENOR ROAD, S.W.
INTRODUCTION.
IT would be quite as great a fallacy to assume that a rich man is also a
wise one, as to take for granted that he who has accumulated a large
library is necessarily a learned man. It is a very curious fact, but
none the less a fact, that just as the greatest men have the shortest
biographies, so have they been content with the smallest libraries.
Shakespeare, Voltaire, Humboldt, Comte, Goethe had no collection of
books to which the term library could fairly be applied. But though each
preferred to find in Nature and in Nature's handiworks the mental
exercise which less gifted men obtain from books, that did not prevent
them from being ardent book-lovers. Shakespeare--to mention one
only--must have possessed a Plutarch, a Stowe, a Montaigne, and a Bible,
and probably half a dozen other books of less moment. And yet, with this
poor show, he was as genuine a book-lover as Ben Jonson or my Lord
Verulam. Lord Burleigh, Grotius, and Bonaparte are said to have carried
their libraries in their pockets, and doubtless Shakespeare could have
carried his under his arm.
If all great men have not been book-collectors in the manner which is
generally understood by the phrase, it is certain that they have,
perhaps without a single exception, been book-lovers. They appear, for
the most part, to have made a constant companion of some particularly
favourite book; for instance, St. Jerome slept with a copy of Aristotle
under his pillow; Lord Clarendon had a couple of favourites, Livy and
Tacitus; Lord Chatham had a good classical library, with an especial
fondness for Barrow; Leibnitz died in a chair with the 'Argenis' of
Barclay in his hand; Kant, who never left his birthplace, Königsburg,
had a weakness in the direction of books of travel. 'Were I to sell my
library,' wrote Diderot, 'I would keep back Homer, Moses, and
Richardson.' Sir W. Jones, like many other distinguished men, loved his
Cæsar. Chesterfield, agreeing with Callimachus, that 'a great book is a
great evil,' and with La Fontaine--
'Les longs ouvrages me font peur
Loin j'épuiser une matière
Il faut n'en prendre que la fleur'--
hated ponderous, prosy, pedantic tomes. Garrick had an extensive
collection on the history of the stage, but Shakespeare was his only
constant friend. Gibbon was a book-collector more in the sense of a man
who collects books as literary tools than as a bibliophile. But it is
scarcely necessary just now to enter more fully into the subject of
great men who were also book-lovers. Sufficient it is, perhaps, to know
that they have all felt the blessedness of books, for, as Washington
Irving in one of his most lofty sentences has so well put it, 'When all
that is worldly turns to dross around us, these [the comforts of a
well-stored library] only retain their steady value; when friends grow
cold, and the converse of intimates languishes into vapid civility and
commonplace, _these_ only continue the unaltered countenance of happier
days, and cheer us with that true friendship which never deceived hope
nor deserted sorrow.'
It is infinitely easier to name those who have collected books in this
vast and unwieldy London of ours, than it is to classify them. To adopt
botanical phraseology, the _genus_ is defined in a word or two, but the
species, the varieties, the hybrids, and the seedlings, how varied and
impossible their classification! Most men have bought books, some have
read a few, and others many; but beyond this rough grouping together we
shall not attempt anything. One thing, however, the majority of
book-collectors agree in, and that is in regarding their own generation
as a revolution--they have, as Butler has described it in his picture of
an antiquary, 'a great value for that which is past and gone, like the
madman that fell in love with Cleopatra.'
Differing in many, and often material, points as one book-collector does
from another, the entire passion for collecting may be said to focus
itself into two well-defined grooves. A man either collects books for
his own intellectual profit, or out of pure ostentatious vanity. In the
ensuing pages there will be found ample and material facts in regard to
the former, so that we may say here all that we have to say regarding
the latter. The second type of book-enthusiast has two of the most
powerful factors in his apparently reckless career--his own book-greed,
and the bookseller who supplies and profits by him.
'What do you think of my library?' the King of Spain once asked Bautru,
the French wit, as he showed him the collection at the Escurial, at that
time in the charge of a notoriously ignorant librarian.
'Your Majesty's library is very fine,' answered Bautru, bowing low; 'but
your Majesty ought to make the man who has charge of it an officer of
the Treasury.'
'And why?' queried the King.
'Because,' replied Bautru, 'the librarian of your Majesty seems to be a
man who never touches that which is confided to him.'
There are many varieties of the ignorant collector type. The most
fruitful source is the _nouveau riche_. Book-collecting is greatly a
matter of fashion; and most of us will remember what Benjamin Franklin
said of this prevailing vice: 'There are numbers that, perhaps, fear
less the being in hell, than out of the fashion.' The enterprising
individual who, on receipt of a catalogue of medical books, wired to the
bookseller, 'What will you take for the lot?' and on a price being
quoted, again telegraphed, 'Send them along,' was clearly a person who
wished to be fashionable. Another characteristically amusing
illustration of this type of book-collector is related by an
old-established second-hand bookseller, who had bought at a country sale
some two or three hundred volumes in a fair condition. But they were
principally old sermons, or, what is worse, theology and political
economy. He placed a sample lot outside his shop, leaving the bulk of
the stock untouched. The little parcel attracted the attention of a
stylishly dressed man, who entered the shop and said, 'I'll take these
books, and, say, have you any more of this kind with this shield onto
them?' pointing to the bookplate attached, which bore the arms and name
of a good old county family. 'That box, sir, is full of books from the
same house, and probably every book has the same bookplate, but I have
not yet had time to examine them.' 'What's yer figger for them, any way?
See here, I start back to Chicago to-morrow, and I mean to take these
books right back along. I'm goin' to start a libery thar, and these
books will just fit me, name and all. Just you sort out all that have
that shield and name, and send them round to the Langham at seven sharp.
I'll be round to settle up; but see, now, don't you send any without
that name-plate, for that's my name, too, and I reckon this old hoss
with the daggers and roosters might have been related to me some way.'
'I remember,' says the Marquis d'Argenson, in his 'Mémoires,' 'once
paying a visit to a well-known bibliomaniac, who had just purchased an
extremely scarce volume, quoted at a fabulous price. Having been
graciously permitted by its owner to inspect the treasure, I ventured
innocently to remark that he had probably bought it with the
philanthropic intention of having it reprinted. "Heaven forbid!" he
exclaimed in a horrified tone; "how could you suppose me capable of such
an act of folly! If I were, the book would be no longer scarce, and
would have no value whatever. Besides," he added, "I doubt, between
ourselves, if it be worth reprinting." "In that case," said I, "its
rarity appears to be its only attraction." "Just so," he complacently
replied; "and that is quite enough for me."'
Another type which borders dangerously near to that which we have been
describing is the collector who, not necessarily ignorant, collects for
himself alone. The motto which Grolier adopted and acted upon--'Io
Grolierii et amicorum'--might have been a very safe principle to go upon
in the sixteenth century, but it would most certainly fail in the
nineteenth, when one's dearest friends are the most unmitigated
book-thieves. But perhaps even the too frequent loss of books is an evil
to be preferred to the egoistical meanness of the selfish collector.
Balzac gives in his 'Cousin Pons' a vivid delineation of such a person.
The hero is a poor drudging music-teacher and orchestra-player, who has
invested every franc of his hard-won earnings in the collecting of
exquisite paintings, prints, bric-à-brac, and other rare mementoes of
the eighteenth century. Despised by all, even by his kindred, trodden
upon as a nobody, slow, patient, and ever courageous, he unites to a
complete technical knowledge a marvellous intuition of the beautiful,
and his treasures are for him pride, bliss, and life. There is no show
in this case, no desire for show, no ambition of the despicable
shoddy-genteel sort--a more than powerful creation of fiction. A
strikingly opposite career of selfishness is suggested by the fairly
well-known story of Don Vincente, the friar bookseller of Barcelona,
who, in order to obtain a volume which a rival bookseller, Paxtot, had
secured at an auction, set fire one night to Paxtot's shop, and stole
the precious volume--a supposed unique copy of the 'Furs e ordinacions
fetes per los gloriosos reys de Arago als regnicoes del regne de
Valencia,' printed by Lambert Palmart, 1482. When the friar was brought
up for judgment, he stolidly maintained his innocence, asserting that
Paxtot had sold it to him after the auction. Further inquiry resulted in
the discovery that Don Vincente possessed a number of books which had
been purchased from him by customers who were shortly afterwards found
assassinated. It was only after receiving a formal promise that his
library should not be dispersed, but preserved in its integrity, that he
determined to make a clean breast of it, and confess the details of the
crimes that he had committed. In cross-examination, Don Vincente spurned
the suggestion that he was a thief, for had he not given back to his
victims the money which they had paid him for the books?
'And it was solely for the sake of books that you committed these
murders?' asked the judge.
'Books! yes, books! Books are the glory of God!'
Vincente's counsel, in defence of his client, in this desperate strait
maintained that there might exist several copies of the books found in
his possession, and that it was out of the question to condemn, on his
own sham avowal, a man who appeared to be half cracked. The counsel for
the prosecution said that that plea could not be urged in the case of
the book printed by Lambert Palmart, as but one copy of that was in
existence. But the prisoner's counsel retorted by putting in evidence
attested affirmation that a second copy was in France.
Up to this moment Vincente had maintained an imperturbable calm; but on
hearing his counsel's plea he burst into tears. In the end, Don Vincente
was condemned to be strangled, and when asked if he had anything more to
urge, all he could utter, sobbing violently, was, 'Ah! your worship,
_my copy was not unique_!'
Cousin Pons and Don Vincente are extreme instances of bibliomaniacs to
whom the possession of a book was the supreme happiness of life. The man
of Fiction and the man of Fact were at one in this passion of
acquisitiveness. Don Vincente was compelled by hunger--_mala suada
fames_--to become a book _seller_; and if it became a general rule for
book-collectors to become booksellers there would, we venture to think,
be a very material increase in police-court and, perhaps, criminal cases
generally. Mr. G. A. Sala tells us an amusing story of the late
Frederick Guest Tomlins, a historian and journalist of repute. In the
autumn of his life Tomlins decided to set up as a bookseller. He
purposed to deal chiefly in mediæval literature, in which he was
profoundly versed. The venture was scarcely successful. A customer
entered his shop one day and asked for a particular book, as marked in
the catalogue. 'I had really no idea it was there,' meditatively
remarked Mr. Tomlins, as he ascended a ladder to a very high shelf and
pulled out a squabby little tome. Then he remained about five-and-twenty
minutes on the ladder absorbed in the perusal of the volume, when the
customer, growing impatient, began to rap on the counter with his stick.
Thereupon Mr. Tomlins came down the ladder. 'If you think,' he remarked,
with calm severity, to the intending purchaser, 'that any considerations
of vile dross will induce me to part with this rare and precious little
volume, you are very much mistaken. It is like your impudence. Be off
with you!' A not altogether dissimilar anecdote is related by Lord
Lytton in that curious novel 'Zanoni,' in which one of the characters is
an old bookseller who, after years of toil, succeeded in forming an
almost perfect library of works on occult philosophy. Poor in everything
but a genuine love for the mute companions of his old age, he was
compelled to keep open his shop, and trade, as it were, in his own
flesh. Let a customer enter, and his countenance fell; let him depart
empty-handed, and he would smile gaily, oblivious for a time of bare
cupboard and inward cravings.
_À propos_ of a literary man turning bookseller, the experiment has
often been tried, but it has generally failed. Second-hand bookselling
seems to be a frequent experiment after the failures of other trades
and callings. We have known grocers, greengrocers, coal-dealers,
pianoforte-makers, printers, bookbinders, cheap-jacks, in London, adopt
the selling of books as a means of livelihood. Sometimes--and several
living examples might be cited--the experiment is a success, but
frequently a failure. The knowledge of old books is not picked up in a
month or a year. The misfortune which seems to dog the footsteps of many
men in every move they make, does not fail to pursue them in
bookselling. Some of them might almost say with Fulmer, in Cumberland's
'West Indian' (1771): 'I have beat through every quarter of the
compass . . . I have blustered for prerogatives, I have bellowed for
freedom, I have offered to serve my country, I have engaged to betray
it . . . I have talked treason, writ treason. . . . And here I set up as
a bookseller, but men leave off reading, and if I were to turn butcher I
believe they'd leave off eating.'
There can be no doubt about the fact that Englishmen as a rule do not
attach sufficient importance to book-buying. If the better-class
tradesman, or professional man, spends a few pounds at Christmas or on
birthday occasions, he feels that he has become a patron of literature.
How many men, who are getting £1,000 a year, spend £1 per month on
books? The library of the average middle-class person is in ninety-nine
cases out of a hundred the cruelest possible commentary on his
intelligence, and, as a matter of fact, if it contains a couple of
volumes worthy of the name of books, their presence is more often than
not an accidental one. A few volumes of the _Sunday at Home_, the
_Leisure Hour_, _Cassell's Magazine_, or perhaps a few other monthly
periodicals, carefully preserved during the twelve months of their
issue, and bound up at the end of the year--with such stuff as this is
the average Englishman's bookcase filled. Mark Pattison has gone so far
as to declare that while the aggregate wealth of the United Kingdom is
many times more than it was one hundred and fifty years ago, the circle
of book-buyers, of the lovers of literature, is certainly not larger, if
it be not absolutely smaller. It may be urged that a person with £1,000
per annum as income usually spends £100 in rent, and that the
accommodation which can be got for that amount does not permit of one
room being devoted to library purposes. This may be true, but this
explanation is not a valid excuse, for a set of shelves, 13 feet by 10
feet 6 inches, placed against a wall will accommodate nearly one
thousand octavo volumes--the genius of the world can be pressed into a
hundred volumes. An American has advised his readers to 'own all the
books you can, use all the books you own, and as many more as you can
get.' The advice is good, and it is well to remember that by far the
majority of great book-collectors have lived to a ripe old age. The
companionship of books is unquestionably one of the greatest antidotes
to the ravages of time, and study is better than all medical formulas
for the prolongation of life.
The man who has resolved upon getting together a collection of
first-class books may not unreasonably be appalled at the difficulties
which stand in the way. And what, indeed, it may be asked, will become
of the hundreds and thousands of books which are now all the fashion?
How many will survive the levelling process of the next half a score of
years, and how few will be known, except to bibliographers, half a
century hence? The lessons of the past would aid us in arriving at some
sort of conclusion as regards the future, if we were inclined to indulge
in speculation of this vain character. It will, however, be interesting
to point out that of the 1,300 books printed before the beginning of the
sixteenth century, not more than 300 are of any importance to the
book-collector. Of the 50,000 published in the seventeenth century, not
more than perhaps fifty are now held in estimation; and of the 80,000
published in the eighteenth century not more than 300 are considered
worth reprinting, and not more than 500 are sought after.
In a curious little book, 'L'An 2440, rêvue s'il en fut jamais,'
published in Paris a century ago, there is a very quaint description of
the process by which, in an improved state of society, men would apply
themselves not to multiply books, but to gather knowledge. The sages of
the political millennium exhibited their stores of useful learning in a
cabinet containing a few hundred volumes. All the lumber of letters had
perished, or was preserved only in one or two public libraries for the
gratification of a few harmless dreamers that were tolerated in their
laborious idleness. This pleasant little picture, drawn by M. L. S.
Mercier, of the state of things five centuries hence, is in strong
contrast to the painful plethora of books of the present day. Dr.
Ingleby, the famous Shakespearian scholar, is credited with the idea of
establishing a society for the purpose of procuring books which no one
else would buy; but this society (the 'Syncretic Book-club') could not
have had any success if the vast quantities of unsaleable rubbish which
one meets with on every hand are to be taken into account. Doubtless Dr.
Ingleby would have included in his scope such books as Lord Lonsdale's
'Memoir of the Reign of James II.,' 1803, which fifty years ago sold for
5-1/2 guineas, but which, within the past few months, has declined to
two shillings!
There was a time when even old and unsaleable books had a commercial
value. Before the cheapening of paper, a second-hand bookseller had
always the paper-mill to fall back on, and the price then paid, £1 10s.
per cwt., was one inducement to dispose of folios and quartos which
remained year in and year out without a purchaser. The present price of
waste-paper is half a crown a hundredweight, so that the bookseller is
now practically shut out of this poor market. Indeed, an enterprising
bibliopole was lately offering 'useful old books,' etc., at 3s. 6d. per
cwt., free on the rails, provided not less than six hundredweight is
bought. 'To young beginners,' he states, 'these lots are great
bargains'; but whether he means young beginners in literature or young
beginners in trade, is an open question. In either case, 'useful old
books' at the price of waste-paper are a novelty. There is a certain
amount of danger in the wholesale destruction of books, for posterity
may place a high value, literary and commercial, on the very works which
are now consigned to the paper-mill. Unfortunately, posterity will not
pay booksellers' rent of to-day. Just as those books which have the
largest circulation are likely to become the rarest, so do those which
were at one time most commonly met with often, after the lapse of a few
decades, become difficult to obtain. In one of his 'Echoes' notes,
Mr. G. A. Sala tells us that, in the course of forty years'
bookstall-hunting, he has known a great number of books once common
become scarce and costly--_e.g._, Lawrence's 'Lectures on Man'; Walker's
'Analysis of Beauty'; Millingen's 'Curiosities of Medical Experience';
Beckford's 'Vathek' in French; Jeremy Bentham's works; and Harris's
'Hermes.' Possibly the disappearance of these and many other books may
be attributed to certain definite causes. For example, in the early
years of this century one of the commonest books at 1s. or 1s. 6d. was
Theobald's 'Shakespeare Restored'; but fifty years later it was a very
rare book. The interest in Shakespeare and his editors had become quite
wide-spread in literary circles, and literature in any way bearing on
the subject found ready purchasers.
Just as the disappearance of certain books sends their prices up
considerably in the market, so the unexpected appearance of others has
just the reverse effect. Until quite recently one of the scarcest of the
first editions of the writings of Charles Dickens was a thin octavo
pamphlet of seventy-one pages, entitled 'The Village Coquettes: a Comic
Opera. In two Acts. London: Richard Bentley, 1836.' So rare was this
book that very few collectors could boast the possession of it, and an
uncut example might always be sold for £30 or £40. About a year before
his death, Dickens was asked by Mr. Locker-Lampson whether he had a
copy; his reply was: 'No, and if I knew it was in my house, and if I
could not get rid of it in any other way, I would burn the wing of the
house where it was'--the words, no doubt, being spoken in jest. Not long
since, a mass of waste-paper from a printer's warehouse was returned to
the mills to be pulped, and would certainly have been destroyed had not
one of the workmen employed upon the premises caught sight of the name
of 'Charles Dickens' upon some of the sheets. The whole parcel was
carefully examined, and the searchers were rewarded by the discovery of
nearly a hundred copies of 'The Village Coquettes,' in quires, clean and
unfolded. These were passed into the market, and the price at once fell
to about £5. The most curious things turn up sometimes in a similar
manner. A little sixpenny bazaar book ('Two Poems,' by Elizabeth Barrett
and Robert Browning, 1854) was for a long time extremely rare, as much
as £3 or £4 being paid for it when it occurred for sale. Suddenly it
appeared in a bookseller's catalogue at 2s., and as every applicant
could have as many as he wanted, it then leaked out that the bookseller,
Mr. Herbert, had purchased about 100 copies with books which he purposed
sending to the mill. Even 'remainders' sometimes turn out to be little
gold-mines. The late Mr. Stibbs bought the 'remainder' of Keats's
'Endymion' at 4d. per copy. We do not know what he realized by this
investment, but their value for some years has been £4 and upwards.
[Illustration: _The late Henry Stevens, of Vermont._]
The subject of book-finds is one about which a volume might be written.
Every 'special' collector has his fund of book-hunting anecdotes and
incidents, for, where the rarity of a well-known book is common
property, there is not usually much excitement in running it to earth.
The fun may be said to begin when two or three people are known to be on
the hunt after a rare and little-known volume, whose interest is of a
special character. To take, as an illustration, one of the most
successful book-hunters of modern times, the late Henry Stevens, of
Vermont. Until Mr. Stevens created the taste for Americana among his
fellow-countrymen, very few collectors considered the subject worth
notice. And yet, in the space of a quarter of a century, he unearthed
more excessively rare and unique items than the wildest dreamer could
have supposed to exist. Books and pamphlets which were to be had for the
proverbial old song when he first came to this country quickly became
the objects of the keenest competition in the saleroom, and invariably
found buyers at extravagant prices. As an illustration, although not an
American item, we may mention that when a copy of the Mazarin Bible was
offered at Sotheby's in 1847, the competitors were an agent of Mr. James
Lenox (Stevens' client) and Sir Thomas Phillipps in person; the latter
went to £495, but the agent went £5 better, and secured the prize at the
then unheard-of price of £500. At first Mr. Lenox declined to take the
book, but eventually altered his mind, wisely as it proved, for although
at long intervals copies are being unearthed, the present value of Mr.
Lenox's copy cannot be much short of £4,000. During 1854 and 1855 Mr.
Stevens bought books to the value of over 50,000 dollars for Mr. Lenox,
and on reviewing the invoices of these two years, 'I am confident,' says
Mr. Stevens, 'that, if the same works were now' (1887) 'to be collected,
they would cost more than 250,000 dollars. But can so much and so many
rare books ever be collected again in that space of time?' In December,
1855, Mr. Stevens offered Mr. Lenox in one lump about forty Shakespeare
quartos, all in good condition, and some of them very fine, for £500,
or, including a fair set of the four folios, £600, an offer which was
accepted, and it may be doubted whether such a set could now be
purchased for £6,000. Mr. Lenox was for over ten years desirous of
obtaining a perfect copy of 'The Bay Psalter,' printed by Stephen Daye
at Cambridge, New England, 1640, the first book printed in what is now
the United States, and had given Mr. Stevens a commission of £100 for
it. After searching far and wide, the long-lost 'Benjamin' was
discovered in a lot at the sale of Pickering's stock at Sotheby's in
1855. 'A cold-blooded coolness seized me, and advancing towards the
table behind Mr. Lilly, I quietly bid, in a perfectly neutral tone,
"Sixpence"; and so the bids went on, increasing by sixpences, until half
a crown was reached and Mr. Lilly had loosened the string. Taking up
this very volume, he turned to me and remarked, "This looks a rare
edition, Mr. Stevens; don't you think so? I do not remember having seen
it before," and raised the bid to 5s. I replied that I had little doubt
of its rarity, though comparatively a late edition of the Psalms, and at
the same time gave Mr. Wilkinson a sixpenny nod. Thenceforward a
"spirited competition" arose between Mr. Lilly and myself, until finally
the lot was knocked down to Stevens for 19s.' The volume had cost the
late Mr. Pickering 3s. It became Mr. Lenox's property for £80.
Twenty-three years later another copy was bought by Mr. Cornelius
Vanderbilt for 1,200 dollars.
In a letter to Justin Windsor, the late J. Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps
gave some very curious and interesting information respecting
book-collecting in the earlier half of the present century. 'About the
year 1836,' he wrote, 'when I first began hunting for old books at the
various stalls in our famous London city, black-letter ones and rare
prints were "plenty as blackberries," and I have often found such things
in unlikely places and amidst a mass of commonplace rubbish, exposed for
sale in boxes labelled, "These books and pamphlets 6d. or 1s. each,"
outside an old bookseller's window, where another notice informed the
passer-by that "Libraries were purchased or books bought;" and thus
plainly showed how such now indeed rarities came into the possession of
an ignorant bibliopole. It was not, however, till about 1840 that I
turned my attention to the more special work of collecting Shakespeare
quartos, in which, I may say, I have been very successful. It was at one
of George Chalmers' sales that I first bought one or two, and after that
I hunted for them in all parts of the country, and met with considerable
success, often buying duplicates, and even triplicates, of the same
edition and play. At one time I possessed no less than three copies of
the very rare quarto edition of "Romeo and Juliet," 1609, and sometimes
even had four copies of more than one of the other quartos. Not so very
long before this period, old Jolley, the well-known collector, picked up
a Caxton at Reading, and a "Venus and Adonis," 1594, at Manchester, in
a volume of old tracts, for the ignoble sum of 1s. 3d. Jolley was a
wealthy orange-merchant of Farringdon Street, London, and entertained me
often with many stories of similar fortunate finds of rare books, which
served to whet my appetite only the more. But I was soon stopped in my
book-hunting career by the appearance all at once on the scene of a
number of buyers with much longer purses than my own, and thus I was
driven from a market I had derived so much pleasure from with great
regret. Some time afterwards circumstances rendered it desirable that I
should part with a large number of my book-treasures by auction and to
the British Museum; but even then I retained enough to be instrumental
in founding the first Shakespearian library in Scotland, by presenting
to the University of Edinburgh, amongst other rarities, nearly fifty
copies of original quartos of Shakespeare's plays, printed before the
Restoration, and to keep sufficient myself of the rarest and most
valuable examples.'
Sometimes the notes of a former possessor have a considerable literary
interest, as, for example, the copy of Stowe's 'Survey of London,' 1618,
presented to the Penzance Library by the late J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps,
who has written, under date December 24, 1867, the following note: 'This
is a favourite book of mine. I like to read of London as it was, with
the bright Thames crowded with fish, and its picturesque
architecture. . . . I should not have discarded this volume for any
library, had I not this day picked up a beautiful _large paper_ copy of
it, the only one in that condition I ever saw or heard of.'
As an illustration of the enhanced value possessed by books having notes
written in them by their owners, it may be mentioned that when the great
Mr. Fox's furniture was sold by auction after his death in 1806, amongst
the books there happened to be the first volume of Gibbon's 'Decline and
Fall,' which apparently had been given by the author to Fox, who wrote
on the fly-leaf this note: 'The author at Brooks' said there was no
salvation for this country, until six heads of the principal persons in
the administration were laid on the table. Eleven days after, this same
gentleman accepted a place of "lord of trade" under those very
ministers, and has acted with them ever since.' This peculiarly nasty
little note sent the value of the odd volume up to £3 3s. Gibbon,
writing in his 'Autobiography' of Fox, says, 'I admired the powers of a
superior man, as they are blended in his attractive character with the
softness and simplicity of a child,' an opinion which he might have
modified if he had lived to read the foregoing note. When Canning's
books, for the most part of an exceedingly commonplace and uninteresting
character, came under the hammer at Christie's in 1828, the competition
was extremely keen for all volumes which bore the great statesman's
autograph, and as most of the books contained more or less elaborate
indications of Canning's proprietorship, his executors received nearly
double the sum which they could reasonably expect. Similar illustrations
occur every year at book-auctions.
The idiosyncrasies of collectors might make quite as long a chapter as
that of books which have belonged to famous persons, and it is for the
same reason that we have to deal briefly with each. It is curious that
almost as soon as book-collecting became at all general, the 'faddy' man
came into existence. Dr. John Webster, of Clitheroe, who died June 18,
1682, aged seventy-two, for example, had a library which was rich in
books of romance, and what was then termed 'the black art'; but Webster
was the author of a rare volume on witchcraft, so that his books were
his literary tools--just as, a century later, John Rennie, the
distinguished civil engineer, made a speciality of mathematical books,
of which he had a collection nearly complete in all languages. Dr.
Benjamin Moseley's library, which was sold by Stewart in March, 1814,
was composed for the most part of books on astrology, magic, and
facetiæ. The Rev. F. J. Stainforth, whose library was sold at Sotheby's
in 1867, collected practically nothing but books written by or relating
to women; he aimed to secure not only every book, but every edition of
such books. He was a most determined book-hunter, and when Holywell
Street was at its lowest moral ebb, this eccentric gentleman used to
visit all the bookshops almost daily, his inquiry being, 'Have you any
women for me to-day?' Mr. Stainforth, who died in September, 1866, was
for many years curate of Camden Church, Camberwell, and was from 1851
incumbent of All Hallow's, Staining, the stipend of which was about
£560, and the population about 400. 'Bless my books--all my Bible books,
all my _hocus pocus_, and all my _leger-de-main_ books, and all my other
books, whether particularly mentioned at this time or not,' was the
prayer of a Scotsman of about a century and a quarter ago, and so
perhaps the Rev. Mr. Stainforth thought, if he did not utter
occasionally some such petition.[xxix-A]
Half a century ago one of the most inveterate frequenters of
book-auctions was a certain Dr. G., of diminutive stature, on account of
an awkward deviation of the spine. At that time the appearance of a
private purchaser at a sale was a very rare event, and one which, when
it occurred, invariably met with a more or less hostile reception from
the fraternity. Dr. G.'s first appearance produced a good deal of
sensation. The hunchback, it is true, was rather shabbily dressed, but
'l'habit ne fait pas le moine,' and is certainly no trustworthy index to
the pockets of the wearer. Excitement reached fever-heat when a Wynkyn
de Worde was put up and persistently contested for by the doctor, who
ran it up against the booksellers present (some of whom quickly desisted
from the fun for fear of burning their fingers), one of whom, far
exceeding his commission, obstinately refused to give in until the book
was knocked down to him to his own dismay, and the delight and ironical
compliments of his colleagues. After this _contretemps_ the doctor had
it pretty much his own way; his name was duly entered on the sale
catalogue, and his address was known. The next day our bookseller,
sobered by reflection, called on the doctor, confessed his sin of the
previous day, humbly asked for absolution, and offered him the book at
an immense loss on the sale price. 'If you were,' replied the doctor,
'to bring the book at my door for nothing, I would take it with a pair
of tongs and drop it into the gutter.' It was a puzzle to everyone what
the little doctor did with all his purchases, which were limited chiefly
to classical books. At his death, however, it transpired that he bought
for the various Universities of the United Kingdom. The doctor's son, a
poor curate, entered his late father's library for the first time, and
found there a mass of books, which occupied nearly a month in selling,
and realized, to his delight, a large sum of money.
The contempt with which Dr. G. received the bookseller's proposal is
peculiarly typical of the book-collector. If he cannot obtain what he
wants just exactly when he wants it, he does not care about it. The
book-collector is doubtless too prone to despise everything which is not
quite in his line, forgetting that all branches of literature contribute
in some degree, greater or lesser, to the bulk of human knowledge. No
man can be universal, even if he had the wealth of a dozen Rothschilds,
or the mental vigour and versatility of a hundred Gladstones.
The book-hunter has, however, his good traits, which sometimes require a
good deal of finding, it is true. We need not dwell at great length on
his apparently unconquerable habit of beating down the prices, for the
custom is too well known to require much explanation; but a view of the
other side of the picture is only fair. A few years ago a well-known
bookseller catalogued a copy of the 'Book of Job' at a very low figure.
A wealthy collector, whose purchases were generally closed on the
judgment of a distinguished bookman, asked to have the copy sent on
approval. It was despatched; but came back within a few days. No
explanation was volunteered: when, however, the collector came into the
shop a short time after, he was asked why he had returned the book. His
answer was to the effect that he could not persuade himself that the
illustrations were really by Blake, particularly as the price asked was
so low. A week or so after this a distinguished art-critic, hearing of
the whereabouts of this copy, asked to have it on approval: in sending
it the bookseller enclosed a note to the effect that some doubt had been
expressed as to the genuineness of the plates. In a few days came a
cheque from the man of art for £10 over and above the catalogue price,
and a note to the effect that the illustrations were not only
unquestionably by Blake, but in the finest possible state.
Last summer a certain bookseller sold, after some considerable amount of
haggling, a very fine Missal for £65, which was £5 less than its
catalogue price. A few weeks after the purchaser called and paid the
additional £5, explaining that a friend of his had taken a violent fancy
to the book, and begged to be allowed to possess it at £70. Another
honest book-collector, discovering that he had bought a book
considerably cheaper than an example had been sold at Sotheby's, and £2
less than Mr. Quaritch had asked for a similar copy, sent his bookseller
a present of a parcel of books to make up the difference in the two
amounts.
With these few introductory and perhaps desultory pages, the reader is
invited to the more solid feast provided for his delectation in the
following pages.
FOOTNOTES:
[xxix-A] Mr. Stainforth's collection ranged over 300 years, and, amid
much utter rubbish, there were a few things of considerable rarity,
notably one of only three complete copies known of T. Bentley's
'Monument of Matrones,' 1582, formerly in the libraries of Herbert,
Woodhouse, Heber and Bliss. It included two autograph letters of the
Right Hon. T. Grenville, and realized £63; Anne Bradstreet's 'Tenth Muse
lately sprung up in America,' 1650, £12 10s.; and a copy of Dame Juliana
Berners' 'Booke of Hauking,' etc., £13. Nearly fifty items appear under
the name of Aphra Behn; whilst there are twenty-one editions of Jane
Porter's 'Poems,' which realized the grand total of 14s. The library
comprised 3,076 lots (representing, perhaps, twenty times that number of
volumes), and realized the total of £792 5s.
[Illustration]
THE BOOK-HUNTER IN LONDON
EARLY BOOK-HUNTING.
THOSE who have studied the earlier phases of English history will
readily understand that the terms book-hunting in England and
book-hunting in London are by no means synonymous. The passion for books
had manifested itself in various and remote parts of this country long
before London had developed into a place of importance; when, indeed, it
was battling from without and within with conflicts which seemed to
predict complete annihilation. But the growth of London is essentially
typical of the growth of the nation, and of the formation of the
national character. When it was laying the foundation of its future
greatness London had no thought of intellectual pursuits, even if
Londoners themselves had any conception of an intellectual life. For any
trace of such unthought-of, and perhaps, indeed, unheard-of, articles as
books, we must go to localities far remote from London--to spots where,
happily, the strife and din of savage warfare scarcely made themselves
heard. The monasteries were the sole repositories of literature; to the
monk alone had the written book any kind of intelligence, any species of
pleasure. To him it was as essential as the implements of destruction to
the warrior, or the plough to the husbandman. The one had no sympathy,
no connection, with the other, only in so far that the events which
transpired in the battlefield had to be recorded in the _scriptorium_.
Although London was a place of importance at a very early stage of the
Roman occupation, it was not in any sense an intellectual centre for
centuries after that period.
[Illustration: _In a Scriptorium._]
Indeed, it might be laid down as a general principle that the farther
the seeker went from London the more likelihood there was of meeting
with books. To Northumbria, from the end of the sixth to the end of the
seventh century, we shall have to look for the record of book-buying,
for during that period books were imported in very considerable
quantities; abbeys arose all along the coast, and scholars
proportionately increased. In a letter to Charlemagne, Alcuin speaks of
certain 'exquisite books' which he studied under Egbert at York. At
Wearmouth, Benedict Biscop (629-690) was amassing books with all the
fury of half a dozen ordinary bibliomaniacs. He collected everything,
and spared no cost. At York, Egbert had a fine library in the minster.
St. Boniface, the Saxon missionary, was a zealous collector. There were
also collections--and consequently collectors--of books at places less
remote from London--such as Canterbury, Salisbury, Glastonbury, and even
St. Albans; but of London itself there is no mention.
Scarcely any such thing as book-hunting or book-selling could possibly
have existed in London before the accession of Alfred, who, among the
several ways in which he encouraged literature, is said to have given an
estate to the author of a book on cosmography. Doubtless, it was after
the rebuilding of the city by Alfred that, in the famous letter to
Wulfseg, Bishop of London, he takes a retrospective view of the times in
which they lived, as affording 'churches and monasteries filled with
libraries of excellent books in several languages.' Bede describes
London, even at the beginning of the eighth century, as a great market
which traders frequented by land and sea; and from a passage in Gale we
learn that books were brought into England for sale as early as 705.
With the reconstruction of London, the wise government, and the
enthusiastic love for letters which animated the great Saxon King, the
commerce of the capital not only increased with great rapidity, but the
commerce in books between England and other countries, particularly from
such bibliopolic centres as Paris and Rome, began to assume very
considerable proportions. If, as is undoubtedly the case, books were
continually being imported, it follows that they found purchasers. By
the beginning of the eleventh century there were many private and
semi-private collections of books in or near London. The English
book-collectors of the seventh century include Theodore, Archbishop of
Canterbury, Benedict, Abbot of Wearmouth, and Bede; those of the eighth
century, Ina, King of the West Saxons, and Alcuin, Abbot of Tours;
whilst the tenth century included, in addition to Alfred, Scotus
Erigena, Athelstan, and St. Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury.
But it cannot be said, with due regard to truth, that London was in any
sense a seat of learning, or a popular resort for learned men, until
well on into the thirteenth century. Doubtless many consignments of
books passed through the city on the way to their respective
destinations.
Edward I. may be regarded as the first English monarch who took any
interest in collecting books; most of his, however, were service books.
They are mentioned in the Wardrobe Accounts (1299-1300) of this King,
and are only eleven in number. These he may have purchased in 1273 in
France, through which he passed on his way home from Palestine. But it
is much more probable that he had no thought of books when hurrying home
to claim the crown of his father. Contemporary with Edward was another
book-collector of a very different type, an abbot of Peterborough,
Richard of London, who had a 'private library' of ten books, including
the 'Consolation of Philosophy,' which he may have formed in London. But
quite the most interesting book-collector (so far as we are concerned
just now) of this period is Richard de Gravesend, Bishop of London. A
minute catalogue of this collection is among the treasures of St. Paul's
Cathedral, and has been privately printed. In this case, the price of
each book is affixed to its entry; the total number of volumes is one
hundred, their aggregate value being £116 14s. 6d., representing,
according to Milman's estimate, £1,760 of our present money. Twenty-one
Bibles and parts of Bibles were valued at £19 5s. Twenty-two volumes in
this collection deal with canon and civil law, four with ecclesiastical
history, and about an equal number with what may be designated science
and arts, the rest being of a theological character. The entries run
thus:
'Tractatus fr'is Dertti'i de proprietatibus rerum.
Libellus instructionum.
Liber Avicennæ.
Liber naturalis.'
The two last-named are respectively the highest and lowest priced items
in the list--for books of a single volume only--the 'Liber Avicennæ'
being valued at the very high figure of £5, and the 'Liber Naturalis' at
3s. A Bible in thirteen volumes is valued at £10; and a 'little Bible'
at £1. The total value of the property of this Bishop was scheduled at
about £3,000.
In spite of civil strife and foreign complications, the taste for
literature made great strides during the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, with the very natural consequence of an increased demand
for, and supply of, books. And the curious thing is that book-collecting
was gradually passing away from the monks, and becoming exceedingly
popular with the laity. 'Flocks and fleeces, crops and herds, gardens
and orchards, the wine of the winecup, are the only books and studies of
the monks.' The Franciscans, who (like the Dominicans) came to England
in 1224, were expressly forbidden 'the possession of books or the
necessary materials for study.' When Roger Bacon joined this order, he
was deprived of his books. St. Francis himself, it seems, was once
'tempted to possess books'--by honest means, let us hope, although the
point is not quite clear--and he almost yielded to the temptation, but
finally decided that it would be sinful. The plague of books seems to
have troubled this poor saint's soul, for he hoped that the day would
come when men would throw their books out of the window as rubbish.
[Illustration: _Lambeth Palace Library._]
In proof of the theory that laymen at a very early period became
book-collectors, the most interesting example which we can quote is that
of Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who died in 1315, and who
bequeathed his library to Bordesley Abbey, Worcestershire, where it had
already been deposited during his lifetime. Beginning with this
preamble, 'A tus iceux qe ceste lettre verront ou orrount. Guy de
Beauchamp, Comte de Warr. Saluz en Deu. Nous avoir bayle e en lagarde le
Abbé e le covent de Bordesleye, lesse a demorer a touz jours les
Romaunces de souz nomes; ces est assaveyr,' the bequest recites, with
great minuteness, a remarkably interesting list of books. This list
('escrites ou Bordesleye le premer jour de may, le an du regñ le Roy
Edw{d} trentime quart') is in the Lambeth Library, but it is reprinted
by Todd in his 'Illustrations of Gower and Chaucer,' pp. 161, 162. This
list is of more than ordinary interest, chiefly because the collection
formed by a layman gives us a very good insight into the class of books
which the early nobility of England read, or, at all events, collected.
Religious books, of course, formed the background of the library, but
there were many romances, such, for instance, as those of King Arthur,
of 'Josep alb Arimathie e deu Seint Grael,' of 'Troies,' etc. There was
also a book 'De Phisik et de Surgie.'
This collection contained between forty and fifty volumes, in which was
included pretty nearly the entire range of human knowledge as it then
extended. It is well to remember in connection with this bequest that,
at the same time, or, more correctly, in 1300, the academical library of
Oxford consisted of a few tracts kept in chests under St. Mary's Church.
With the greatest book-collector of this period, Richard de Bury
(1287-1345), the author of the 'Philobiblon,' unfortunately, we have
little to do, as his book expeditions appear to have been confined
almost entirely to foreign countries. He collected books from every
source open to him, and wrote of his passion with a warmth of eloquence
of which even Cicero might have been proud. His most important book
transaction, which comes within the purview of the present volume,
relates to the gift by an Abbot of St. Albans of four volumes to De
Bury, then Clerk of the Privy Seal, viz., Terence, Virgil, Quintilian,
and Hieronymus against Rufinus. In addition to these, the Abbot sold him
thirty-two other books for fifty pounds of silver. When De Bury became
Bishop this 'gift' troubled his conscience, and he restored several of
the books which had come into his possession in a perfectly honest and
legitimate manner, whilst others were secured from the Bishop's
executors. One of the volumes acquired in the latter manner is now in
the British Museum. It is a large folio MS. on the works of John of
Salisbury, and bears upon it a note to the effect that it was written by
Simon (Abbot of St. Albans, 1167-1183), and another to the following
effect: 'Hunc librum venditum Domino Ricardo de Biry Episcopo Dunelmensi
emit Michael Abbas Sancti Albani ab executoribus predicti episcopi anno
Domini millesimo ccc{o} xlv{to} circa purificationem Beate Virginis.'
The catalogue of the library of the Benedictine monastery of Christ
Church, Canterbury, in the Cottonian Collection, British Museum, and
printed for the first time at length in Edward's 'Memoirs of Libraries'
(i. 122-235), is a remarkable list of the most extensive collection of
books at that time in this country. It was formed at the end of the
thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth century. This library was
well furnished with works in science and history, and particularly so
with the classics--Aristotle, Cicero, Lucan, Plato, Suetonius, Seneca,
Terence, and Virgil. The extreme probability is that London was the
highway through which the greater part of this and other early libraries
passed. If, early in the fifteenth century, the book-hunter in London
possessed few opportunities of purchasing books, he would have found
several very good libraries which were open to his inspection. There
was, for example, a very considerable collection in the Franciscan
monastery, which once stood on the site now occupied by Christ's
Hospital, Newgate Street. The first stone of this monastery was laid in
October, 1421, amid much pomp, by the then Lord Mayor, Sir Richard
Whittington, who gave £400 in books. It was covered in before the winter
of 1422, and completed in three years, and furnished with books. From
Stow's 'Survey' we learn that one hundred marks were expended on the
transcription of the works of Nicholas de Lira, to be chained in the
library, and of which cost John Frensile remitted 20s. One of the
chained books, 'The Lectures of Hostiensis,' cost five marks. From
another source we learn that a Carmelite friar named John Wallden
bequeathed to this library as many MSS. as were worth 2,000 pieces of
gold.
Anthony à Wood refers to the oft-repeated charge of the
book-covetousness of the mendicant friars, which, in fact, was carried
to such an extreme 'that wise men looked upon it as an injury to laymen,
who therefore found a difficulty to get any books.' Of the same period,
there is a very curious anecdote in Rymer's 'Foedera' about taking off
the duty upon six barrels of books sent by a Roman cardinal to the Prior
of the conventual church of St. Trinity, Norwich. These barrels, which
lay at the Custom-house, were imported duty free.
Neither the book-hunger of the mendicant friars, nor the difficulties
which surrounded the importation of books, appears to have militated
greatly against the growing passion. We have the name, and only the
name, of a very famous book-hunter--John of Boston--of the first decade
of the fifteenth century, whose labours, however, have been completely
blotted out of existence by the dispersed monasteries. But there were
many other collectors whose memories have been handed down to us in a
more tangible form, even if their collections of books are almost as
abstract and indefinite as that of John of Boston. During the first
quarter of the fifteenth century, we have quite a considerable little
group of royal book-collectors--Henry IV., Henry V., and his brothers,
John, Duke of Bedford, and Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. The last-named
was undoubtedly the most enthusiastic bibliophile of the four, but
whilst his extensive gifts of books to the University of Oxford may be
said to have formed the foundation of the library there, they were in
the following century destroyed by the mob. A few examples of his gifts
are now preserved in the British Museum and at Oxford. His books were
estimated at a very high figure, the value placed on 120 of them (out of
the total of 600) being no less than £1,000. The memory of the Duke of
Bedford's library is best perpetuated by the famous Bedford Missal, or
Book of Hours, perhaps the most splendid example of fifteenth-century
illustration. It is now in the British Museum, where it has been since
1852. The history of this missal, perhaps the most interesting in
existence, is too well known to be dealt with here (see p. 109).
Henry V. was undoubtedly fond of books. Rymer refers to two petitions to
the Council after the King's death for the return of valuable books of
history, borrowed by him of the Countess of Westmoreland, and of the
priory of Christ Church, Canterbury, and not returned, though one of
them had been directed to be delivered to its owner by the King's last
will. The elegantly illuminated copy of Lydgate's 'Hystory, Sege, and
Destruccion of Troye,' 1513, in the Bodleian, is doubtless the copy
which Lydgate gave to Henry V. At Cambridge there is the MS. of a French
translation of Cardinal Bonaventure's 'Life of Christ,' with the note
'this wasse sumtyme Kinge Henri the fifeth his booke,' etc.
Henry VI. does not appear to have cared for books, and it is not
surprising, what with wars abroad and excessive taxation, plague and
famine at home, that literary tastes received a severe check. We get
several glimpses of the dearth of books. In the MS. history of Eton
College, in the British Museum, the Provost and Fellows of Eton and
Cambridge are stated, 25 Henry VI., to have petitioned the King that he
would be pleased to order one of his chaplains, Richard Chestre, 'to
take to him such men as shall be seen to him expedient in order to get
knowledge where such bookes [for Divine service] may be found, paying a
reasonable price for the same, and that the sayd men might have the
choice of such bookes, ornaments, and other necessaries as now late were
perteynyng to the Duke of Gloucester, and that the king would
particular[ly] cause to be employed herein John Pye--his stacioner of
London.'
Book-importation by the galleys that brought the produce of the East to
London and Southampton had assumed very considerable proportions during
the fifteenth century; but the uncertainties which attended it were not
at all favourable to its full development. Book-production was still
progressing in the immediate neighbourhood of London. At St. Albans, for
example, over eighty were transcribed under Whethamstede during this
reign, a number which is peculiarly interesting when the degeneracy of
the monasteries is remembered. Neither Edward IV. nor Richard III. seems
to have availed himself of the increasing plenty of books. The library
of the former was a very unimportant affair. From the Wardrobe Account
of this King (1480) we get a few highly interesting facts concerning
book-binding, gildings, and garnishing: 'For vj unces and iij quarters
of silk to the laces and tassels for garnysshing of diverse Bookes,
price the unce xiiij_d._--vij_s._ x_d._ ob.; for the making of xvj laces
and xvj tassels made of the said vj unces and iij of silke, price in
grete ij_s._ vii_d._' These moneys were paid to Alice Claver, a
'sylk-woman.' And again 'to Piers Bauduyn, stacioner, for bynding,
gilding and dressing of a booke called "Titus Livius," xx_s._; for
bynding, gilding and dressing of a booke of the Holy Trinitie, xvj_s._;
for bynding, gilding and dressing of a booke called "Frossard," xvj_s._;
for bynding, gilding and dressing of a booke called the Bible, xvj_s._;
for bynding, gilding and dressing of a booke called "Le Gouvernement of
Kinges and Princes," xvj_s._; for bynding and dressing of the three
smalle bookes of Franche, price in grete vj_s._ viiij_d._; for the
dressing of ij bookes whereof oon is called "La Forteresse de Foy" and
the other called the "Book of Josephus," iij_s._ iiij_d._; and for
bynding, gilding and dressing a booke called the "Bible Historial,"
xx_s._'
The only incident which calls for special mention in the two next short
reigns is a law, 1 Richard III., 1483, by which it was enacted that if
any of the printers or sellers of printed books--the 'great plenty' of
which came from 'beyond the sea'--'vend them at too high and
unreasonable prices,' then the Lord Chancellor, Lord Treasurer, or any
of the chief justices of the one bench or the other, were to regulate
the prices.
[Illustration: _Roman Books and Writing Materials._]
[Illustration]
BOOK-HUNTING AFTER THE INTRODUCTION OF PRINTING.
I.
THE introduction of printing into this country by Caxton during the
latter half of the fifteenth century had very little immediate effect on
book-collecting. The operations of the press were slow, its patrons few,
and its work controlled by one man. The reproduction of MSS. was
essentially a slow process, but when these transcriptions were finished,
they rarely failed to find a purchaser. Caxton, like Sweynheim and
Pannartz at Subiaco, soon learned the seriousness of over-printing an
edition. Collectors were few, and the introduction of printing did not
very materially add to their number. London, however, soon became a
recognised centre of the trade in books, and Henry VII. patronized, in
his curious fashion, the collecting of them. He read, according to
Bacon, 'most books that were of any worth in the French tongue,' and one
of the most commendable actions of this King was the purchase of the
noble series of vellum copies of the works printed at Paris by Antoine
Vérard, now in the British Museum--an act by which he may be said to
have laid the foundation of our great national library. The value of
books at this period is not without interest; but we must confine
ourselves to one or two facts relating to Caxton's books. At his death
in 1492, a copy of the 'Golden Legend' was valued at 6s. 8d. in the
books of the Westminster churchwarden. From a note by Dibdin, it would
seem that the price of Caxtons towards the end of the reign of Henry
VII. was as follows:
'Godfray of Boulogne' (imperfect), ii_s._
Virgil's 'Æneid' (perfect), xij_d._
'Fait of Arms and Chivalry' (perfect), ij_s._ viij_d._
'Chastising of God's Children,' viij_d._
Henry VIII. was undoubtedly a book-lover as well as a book-collector. He
established a library at St. James's. But perhaps it is rather as a
book-disperser that Henry is entitled to notice in this place. The
dissolution of the monasteries is the genesis of book-collecting in
London. The first move in this respect is entitled 'An Act that all
religious houses under the yearly revenue of £200 shall be dissolved and
given to the King and his heirs,' and is dated 1535 (27 Henry VIII.,
cap. 28, ii. 134). The second is dated 1539. Whatever advantages in a
general way the dissolution of the monasteries may have had, its
consequences, so far as regards the libraries, which the monks
considered as among their most cherished possessions, were disastrous
beyond measure. Indeed, we have no conception of our losses. Addressing
himself to Edward VI. in 1549, John Bale, afterwards Bishop of Ossory,
who had but little love for Popery of any description, writes in this
strain: 'Avarice was the other dispatcher which hath made an end both of
our libraries and books . . . to the no small decay of the commonwealth.
A great number of them who purchased those superstitious mansions
[monasteries], reserved of these Library-books, some . . . to scour
their candlesticks, and some to rub their boots; some they sold to the
grocers and soap-sellers, and some they sent over sea to the
bookbinders, not in small numbers, but at times whole shipsfull, to the
wondering of the foreign nations. Yea, the universities of this realm
are not all clear in this detestable fact. But cursed is that belly
which seeketh to be fed with so ungodly gains, and so deeply shameth his
natural country. I know a merchantman, which shall at this time be
nameless, that bought the contents of two noble Libraries for forty
shillings price: a shame it is to be spoken. This stuff hath he occupied
in the stead of gray paper by the space of more than these ten years;
and yet he hath store enough for as many years to come. . . . Our
posterity may well curse this wicked fact of our age, this unreasonable
spoil of England's most noble antiquities, unless they be stayed in
time.' Fuller, in his 'Church History of Britain,' quotes Bale's
lamentation, and adds his own testimony on the same subject: 'As brokers
in Long Lane, when they buy an old suit buy the linings together with
the outside, so it was considered meet that such as purchased the
buildings of monasteries should in the same grant have the Libraries
(the stuffing thereof) conveyed unto them. And now these ignorant
owners, so long as they might keep a ledger-book or terrier by direction
thereof to find such straggling acres as belonged unto them, they cared
not to preserve any other monuments. The covers of books, with curious
brass bosses and clasps, intended to protect, proved to betray them,
being the baits of covetousness. And so many excellent authors, stripped
out of their cases, were left naked, to be buried or thrown away. . . .
What soul can be so frozen as not to melt into anger thereat? What
heart, having the least spark of ingenuity, is not hot at this indignity
offered to literature? I deny not but that in this heap of books there
was much rubbish; legions of lying legends, good for nothing but fuel
. . . volumes full fraught with superstition, which, notwithstanding,
might be useful to learned men; except any will deny apothecaries the
privilege of keeping poison in their shops, when they can make antidotes
of them. But, beside these, what beautiful Bibles, rare Fathers, subtile
Schoolmen, useful Historians--ancient, middle, modern; what painful
Comments were here amongst them! What monuments of mathematics all
massacred together; seeing every book with a cross was condemned for
Popish; with circles for conjuring.'
The calamities bewailed in such picturesque language by Bale and Fuller
would have been much more serious but for the labours of one of our
earliest antiquaries and book-lovers, John Leland. 'The laboryouse
Journey and serche of Johan Leylande for Englandes Antiquities geven of
hym as a newe yeares gyfte to kynge Henry the viii in the xxxvij yeare
of his Reygne,' 1549, is a remarkable publication, of great interest to
the book-hunter and the antiquary.
But the fruits of Leland's researches cannot now be fully known, for he
was too intent on accumulating material to draw up an adequate
inventory. Much that he preserved from destruction is now in the British
Museum, and some is in the Bodleian at Oxford. Some of the fragments
which he had saved from the general destruction had been placed in the
King's own library in Westminster.
The dissolution of the monasteries had among its many effects the
creation, so to speak, of a large number of collectors. One of the most
famous of the early sixteenth-century collectors, Sir Thomas More,
however, died (in 1535) before he could have availed himself of the many
treasures scattered to all quarters of the earth.
Dibdin records a bibliomaniacal anecdote which is well worth repeating
here, as it shows how More's love of books had infected even those who
came to seize upon him to carry him to the Tower, and to endeavour to
inveigle him into treasonable expressions: 'While Sir Richard Southwell
and Mr. Palmer weare bussie in trussinge upp his bookes, Mr. Riche,
pretending,' etc., 'whereupon Mr. Palmer, on his deposition, said, that
he was soe bussie ab{t} the trussinge upp Sir Tho. Moore's bookes in a
sacke, that he tooke no heed of there talke.'
Henry, Earl of Arundel, was not slow to seize upon the advantages which
the dissolution placed before everyone. At Nonsuch, in Surrey, he formed
a library, which is described in a biography of him, written shortly
after his death, as 'righte worthye of remembrance.' Besides his
numerous MSS. and printed books, he acquired a considerable portion of
the library of Cranmer, which was dispersed at the death of the
Archbishop. His books passed to his son-in-law, Lord Lumley, at whose
decease they were purchased by Henry, Prince of Wales, and are now in
the British Museum. The Earl of Arundel's books are handsomely bound,
and are known by his badge of the white horse and oak branch which
generally occurs on the covers.
[Illustration: _Earl of Arundel's Badge._]
In Jeremy Collier's 'Ecclesiastical History' (vol. ii. 307) we get a
glimpse of book-matters in London in the middle of the sixteenth
century. At the end of February, 1550, we learn that the Council book
mentions the King's sending a letter for the purging of the library at
Westminster. The persons are not named, but the business was to cull out
all superstitious books, as missals, legends, and such-like, and to
deliver the garniture of the books, either gold or silver, to Sir
Anthony Archer. These books were many of them plated with gold and
silver and curiously embossed. This, as far as we can collect, was the
superstition that destroyed them. 'Here avarice had a very thin
disguise, and the courtiers discovered of what spirit they were to a
remarkable degree.' Here is another picture of an almost contemporaneous
event, equally vivid in its suggestiveness: 'John Tyndale, the
translator's brother, and Thomas Patmore, merchants, were condemned to
do penance by riding with their faces to their horses' tails, with their
books fastened thick about them, pinned, or tacked, to their gowns or
clokes, to the Standard in Cheap; and there with their own hands to
fling them into the fire, kindled on purpose to burn them.'
As a book-collecting period the sixteenth century, from the accession of
Henry VIII.--when books became the organs of the passions of mankind--to
the death of Elizabeth, is full of intense interest. The old order had
changed; the world itself had made an entirely fresh start. Men and
events of the previous two or three centuries were almost as antique
then as they are to-day, and perhaps in many respects they were
infinitely less clearly understood. As the century grew in age, so the
number of book-collectors increased. The hobby became first a passion
with the few, and then the fashion with the many. Henry VIII. was
perhaps a passive rather than an active collector, with a distinct
leaning in favour of beautiful books. His three children, who followed
him on the throne of England, were collectors of books, and the majority
of their purchases must have been made in London. Many of these books
have, at some time or other, drifted from private hands into the
sale-rooms, but perhaps the majority of those now existing are to be
found within the walls of our public institutions. For example, at the
sale of Dr. Askew's MSS., in 1775, a very interesting item was purchased
by a Mr. Jackson, a Quaker, and a dealer in wine and spirits, with whom
book-collecting was a passion. The MS. proved to be in the handwriting
of Edward VI.; it was in French, and dealt with his opinion of his right
to the title of Supreme Head of the Church. At Jackson's sale the MS.
became the property of the British Museum. As another illustration, we
may refer to the copy of the 'Flores Historiarum per Matthæum
Westmonasteriensem,' etc., 1570, in the British Museum (Cracherode
Collection) which is the identical one presented by Archbishop Parker
(by whose authority it was published) to Queen Elizabeth. It afterwards
fell into the hands of Francis, Earl of Bedford, who bequeathed it, with
the furniture of a little study, to his secretary. It was subsequently
in the possession of Ritson. And yet again, in the Eton College Library,
there is a copy of the 'Missale Romanum,' printed at Paris by Hardouyn,
1530, which belonged to Mary, with a sentence in her handwriting; this
volume afterwards came into the possession of Mary of Este, Queen of
James II., and subsequently into the hands of a London bookseller, from
whom it was purchased for fifty-three shillings by Bishop Fleetwood, and
presented to the college library. Indeed, a large volume might be
compiled on the Adventures of Some Famous Books.
Interesting and important as is the phase of book-collecting which
relates to royal personages, it falls into insignificance beside that of
men who have achieved greatness through their own abilities. The books
collected by Thomas Cranmer, for example, quite overshadow in interest
anything which the whole reign of the Tudors could produce. It has been
well said that his knowledge of books was wide, and his opportunities
for acquiring them unrivalled. Cranmer was a generous collector, for his
library was quite open for the use of learned men. Latimer spent 'many
an hour' there, and has himself told us that he met with a copy of
Dionysius 'in my Lord of Canterbury's library.' We have already seen
that many of Cranmer's books passed into the possession of the Earl of
Arundel, but many were 'conveyed and stolen awaie.' Cranmer's books have
found an enthusiastic historian in Prebendary Burbidge, who has almost
rehabilitated the great ecclesiastic's library in the first part of Mr.
Quaritch's 'Dictionary of English Book-collectors.' Another
book-collector of a very different type was amassing an extensive
library at a somewhat later period than Cranmer: Dr. Dee, the famous
necromancer, had collected '4,000 volumes, printed and unprinted, bound
and unbound, valued at 2,000 lib.,' of which one Greek, two French and
one High Dutch volumes of MSS. alone were 'worth 533 lib.' It occupied
forty years to form this library. Most of his books passed into the
possession of Elias Ashmole--who was another collector with an
insatiable appetite--and now form a part of the Ashmolean Museum. Some
of Dee's singular MSS. were found, long after his death, in the secret
drawer of a chest, which had passed through many hands undiscovered.
Reverting for a moment to Ashmole, he himself tells us that he gave
'five volumes of Mr. Dugdale's' works to the Temple Library. And
further: 'My first boatful of books, which were carried to Mrs.
Tradescant's, were brought back to the Temple.' In May, 1667, he bought
Mr. John Booker's study of books, and gave £140 for them. In 1681 he
bought 'Mr. Lilly's library of books of his widow, for £50.'
A very distinguished book-collector of the Elizabethan period was Sir
Francis Drake, the great Admiral. It did not seem to be at all known
that the distinguished naval hero was also a bibliophile until 1883,
when the collection of books was brought from the old residence of the
Drakes, Nutwell Court, Lympstone, Devon, to Sotheby's. The sale
comprised 1,660 lots, representing several thousand volumes, the total
being £3,276 17s. 6d. It was especially rich in books and old tracts of
the early seventeenth century relating to the English voyages to
America, and some of these realized very high figures. Although the
library was undoubtedly founded by Drake, it was evidently continued by
his descendants. Bacon, Baron of Verulam, was a distinguished
book-collector, as the shelves of his chambers in Gray's Inn would have
testified. Archbishop Parker, than whom 'a more determined book-fancier
never existed in Great Britain,' and Gabriel Harvey, the friend of
Spenser, and the object of Tom Nash's withering scorn, were among the
most inveterate book-collectors of Elizabethan London. Had Harvey--whose
books usually contain his autograph on the title-page, and not a few of
which were given him by Spenser--studied his books less, and the proper
study of mankind a little more, he might have shown his talents off to a
better advantage than in his conflicts with Nash. In the Bodleian there
is a set of old tales and romances which Spenser lent Harvey, taking as
a hostage, apparently, Harvey's copy of Lucian in four volumes. Harvey
had a very poor opinion of such 'foolish' books, but he does not seem to
have returned them to their rightful owner. The fire which destroyed Ben
Jonson's MSS. undoubtedly consumed many of his printed books, but
examples from his library, with 'Sum Ben Jonson' inscribed, are
sometimes met with. Shakespeare may have had a library, but we have no
evidence that he possessed even a copy of his own plays in quarto. The
Elizabethan poets and dramatists were prodigious contributors to the
press, but very poor patrons of booksellers. From various sources we get
some highly-coloured and unflattering pictures of the typical
booksellers of the period. Tom Nash has limned for us a vivid little
portrait in 'Pierce Penilesse' (1592), in which he declares that if he
were to paint Sloth, 'I swear that I would draw it like a stationer that
I know, with his thumb under his girdle, who, if ever a man come to his
stall to ask him for a book, never stirs his head, or looks upon him,
but stands stone still, and speaks not a word, only with his little
finger points backward to his boy, who must be his interpreter; and so
all day, gaping like a dumb image, he sits without motion, except at
such times as he goes to dinner or supper, for then he is as quick as
other three, eating six times every day.'
II.
From start to finish the Stuart dynasty ruled England for close on
three-quarters of a century. That book-collecting should have existed at
all under it is a marvel. But the hobby no longer depended upon the
patronage of courts and courtiers. From the Wise Fool, James I., to the
Foolish Fool, the second James, collectors pursued their hobby in London
and out of it. James I. began to collect books at a very early age, and
a list of his library was published for the first time in the _Athenæum_
in 1893. It has, however, but little interest to us in this place, for
doubtless most of the books were imported into Scotland from the great
book centre, Paris. The library which he acquired after his accession to
the throne of England is of little consequence, for he was not the
person to purchase books when he had the means, and doubtless many of
his bookish possessions were gifts. In the library at Eton College there
is his copy of Captain John Smith's 'History of Virginia,' 1624, which
was rescued by Storer from a dirty bookseller's shop in Derby, and the
existence of many others might be traced. It is certain that 'he gave
them shabby coverings, and scribbled idle notes on their margins.' Had
his son Henry lived, he might have developed into a respectable
book-collector. We know for certain that he 'paid a Frenchman that
presented a book, £4 10s.'; and that he paid 'Mr. Holyoak for writing a
catalogue of the library which the Prince had of Lord Lumley, £8 13s.
4d.' Charles II., like his forbears, was not a book-buyer, and so far as
he is concerned we must content ourselves with repeating a little
anecdote after Dibdin, who refers to an 'old and not incurious library
at Workingham, in Suffolk,' where there was a very fine ruled copy of
Hayes's Bible, published at Cambridge, 1674, in two volumes folio; on
the fly-leaf it contains the following memorandum: 'N.B.--This Bible
belonged to K. Charles IId. and [was] given by him to Duke Lauderdale
and sold by auction w{th} y{e} rest of his Books.' In a comparatively
modern hand, below, is written in pencil:
'Hark ye, my friends, that on this Bible look,
Marvel not at the fairness of the Book;
No soil of fingers, nor such ugly things,
Expect to find, Sirs, for it _was the King's_.'
[Illustration: _Sir Robert Cotton._]
The most distinguished Metropolitan book-collector of the period was Sir
Robert Cotton, who began as early as 1588, and who had assistance from
such antiquaries as William Camden and Sir Henry Spelman. This library,
after being closed on account of the treasonable character of the
documents contained in it, passed into the possession of Cotton's son,
Sir Thomas, whose house was almost adjoining Westminster Hall. Anthony à
Wood gives a curious account of a visit he paid it, when he found its
owner practising on the lute. The key of the library was in the
possession of one Pearson, who lodged with a bookseller in Little
Britain. Wood was 'forced to walk thither, and much ado there was to
find him.' This library was removed to Essex Street, and again back to
Westminster to Ashburnham House in Little Dean's Yard, where it suffered
greatly from a fire in 1731, and what remains of it is now in the
British Museum. Sir Thomas Bodley was another collector, but few of his
accumulations appear to have come from London. The extraordinary
collection of pamphlets got together by Tomlinson, and now stored in the
British Museum, is too well known to need more than a passing reference.
It is not so generally known that Narcissus Luttrell was a very
voracious collector of broadsides, tracts, and so forth. To nearly every
one of the items he affixed the price he paid for it. In 1820, at the
Bindley sale, this extraordinary collection, ranging in date from 1640
to 1688, and comprising twelve volumes, realized the then large amount
of £781.
[Illustration: _Sir Julius Cæsar's Travelling Library._]
Sir Julius Cæsar, Master of the Rolls under James I., was a
book-collector of the right sort, and his box of charming little
editions of the classics, with which he used to solace himself on a
journey, is now in the safe keeping of the British Museum. Sir Julius
was born in 1557, and died in April, 1636; he possessed a fine
collection of highly interesting manuscripts, which had the narrowest
possible escape from being destroyed at the latter part of the last
century. The collection was rescued in time by Samuel Paterson, the
auctioneer, and it is now in the British Museum.
Robert Burton (the author of the 'Anatomy of Melancholy') was, like
Luttrell, also a great collector of tracts, and his library, now in the
Bodleian, is peculiarly rich in historical, political, and poetical
pamphlets, and in miscellaneous accounts of murders, monsters, and
accidents. He seems to have purchased and preserved a copy of everything
that came out. 'There is no nation,' says Johnson, 'in which it is so
necessary as in our own to assemble the small tracts and fugitive
pieces.' 'The writers of these' frequently have opportunities 'of
inquiring from living witnesses, and of copying their representations
from the life, and preserve a multitude of particular incidents which
are forgotten in a short time, or omitted in formal relations, and yet
afford light in some of the darkest scenes of state.' 'From pamphlets,'
says the same writer, 'are to be learned the progress of every debate,
and of every opinion.' And he compares the impression produced on the
mind of him who shall consult these tracts, and of another that refers
merely to formal historians, to the _difference of him who hears of a
victory, and him who sees the battle_. Archbishop Laud collected from
far and wide. John Selden, like Laud, had a distinct weakness for
learned books, and consequently could have found little to satisfy his
cravings in London. Selden, when disturbed, put his spectacles into the
book he was busy with by way of marking the place; and after his death
numbers of volumes were found with these curious book-markers. John
Felton, who murdered Buckingham, was also a book-collector in a small
way. In Lilly's catalogue for 1863 there was a copy of Peacham's
'Compleat Gentleman,' 1622, with the following on the fly-leaf: 'John
Felton, vicessimo secundo die Junii, 1622.'
A few glances, at this point, at the more material phases of
book-collecting may not be without interest. The following is one of the
earliest bookseller's statements of accounts with which we are
acquainted. It was rendered to 'the Right Honourable the Lord Conway,'
on May 31, 1638, by Henry Seile, whose shop was at the sign of the
Tiger's Head, Fleet Street:
1 Nash's Ha' wee you to Saffron Walden 00 02 06
1 Greene's Arcadia } {
1 Farewell to Folly } {
1 Tullies' Love } These nine Bookes {
1 Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale } were delivered to { 00 10 0
1 Mamilia } your Lordship at {
1 Never too Late } Xs. {
1 Groatesworth of Wit } {
1 Mourning Garment } {
1 Peers pennylesse supplication } {
In a letter addressed to Evelyn by Dr. Cosin (afterwards Bishop of
Durham) during his exile, and dated July 18, 1651, we get a delightful
glimpse of two book-lovers doing 'a deal.' Mr. Evelyn was apparently a
man who could drive a bargain with Hebraic shrewdness. 'Truly, sir,'
expostulated mildly the excited ecclesiastic, 'I thought I had prevented
any further motion of abatement by the large offer that I made to
you. . . . If you consider their number, I desire you would be pleased
to consider likewise, that they are a choice number, and a company of
the best selected books among them all. . . . There is in your note
Pliny's "Natural History" in English, priced at 36s., which is worth £3;
Camden's "Errors," priced at 5s. 6d., for which I have seen £1 given;
Paulus Jovius at £1, which sells now in Paris at 4 pistoles; and Pol.
Virgil at 10s., which sells here for £10; William of Malmesbury at 15s.,
for which they demand here £30, and Asser Menev, etc., at 14s., which
they will not part with here nor elsewhere abroad for £20.'
It is highly probable that the book-market was never so bad in London
as during this period; for, in addition to the above illustration, and
at about the same time, Isaac Vossius came over to this country with a
quantity of literary property, some of which had belonged to his learned
father, in the hopes of selling it; but he 'carried them back into
Holland,' where 'a quicker mercate' was expected.
III.
[Illustration: _Archbishop Usher._]
_Sic transit gloria mundi_ might well be the motto of a History of
Book-Collectors, for in by far the majority of cases great private
libraries have been formed in one generation by genuine bookworms, only
to be scattered in the next by needy legatees or in consequence of
impoverished estates. There can be no doubt that several famous
libraries have derived their origin from the mere vanity of emulating a
fashionable pursuit. Into this matter, however, it is not necessary for
us to enter, except to hazard the suggestion that if the money had not
been spent in that direction it would doubtless have been squandered in
some less worthy and enduring manner. One of the most interesting and
valuable contributions to the history of private collections of the
seventeenth century is embedded in the long and entertaining letter
which John Evelyn addressed to Mr. Pepys in August, 1689. This letter is
so accessible that it may seem superfluous to quote any part of it; but
a few of the leading points are necessary to the proper sequence of our
story. 'The Bishop of Ely has a very well-stored library, but the very
best is what Dr. Stillingfleet has at Twickenham, ten miles out of
town. . . . Our famous lawyer, Sir Edward Coke, purchased a very choice
library of Greek and other MSS., which were sold him by Dr. Meric
Casaubon, son of the learned Isaac; and these, together with his
delicious villa, Durdens, came into the possession of the present Earl
of Berkeley from his uncle, Sir Robert Cook. . . . I have heard that Sir
Henry Savill was master of many precious MSS., and he is frequently
celebrated for it by the learned Valesius, almost in every page of that
learned man's Annotations on Eusebius, and the Ecclesiastical
Historians published by him. The late Mr. Hales, of Eton, had likewise a
very good library; and so had Dr. Cosin, late Bishop of Duresme [and
afterwards of Durham], a considerable part of which I had agreed with
him for myself during his exile abroad, as I can show under his own
hand; but his late daughter, since my Lady Garret, thought I had not
offered enough, and made difficulty in delivering them to me till near
the time of his Majesty's restoration, and after that the Dean, her
father, becoming Bishop of that opulent See, bestowed them on the
library there. But the Lord Primate Usher was inferior to none I have
named among the clergy for rare MSS., a great part of which, being
brought out of Ireland, and left his son-in-law, Sir Timothy Tyrill, was
disposed of to give bread to that incomparable Prelate during the late
fanatic war. Such as remained yet at Dublin were preserved, and by a
public purse restored and placed in the college library of that
city. . . . I forbear to name the late Earl of Bristol's and his
kinsman's, Sir Kenelm Digby's, libraries, of more pompe than intrinsic
value, as chiefly consisting of modern poets, romances, chymical, and
astrological books. . . . As for those of Sir Kenelm, the catalogue was
printed and most of them sold in Paris, as many better have lately been
in London. The Duke of Lauderdale's[27:A] is yet entire, choicely
bound, and to be sold by a friend of mine, to whom they are pawned; but
it comes far short of his relation's, the Lord Maitland's, which was
certainly the noblest, most substantial and accomplished library that
ever passed under the speare, and heartily it grieved me to behold its
limbs, like those of the chaste Hippolytus, separated and torn from that
so well chosen and compacted a body. The Earl of Anglesey's, and several
others since, by I know not what invidious fate, passed the same
fortune, to whatever influence and constellation now reigning malevolent
to books and libraries, which can portend no good to the future age.'
[Illustration: _Wotton House in 1840._]
It is interesting to note that of the several libraries enumerated by
Evelyn three have become, partly or wholly, public property. That of Dr.
John Moore, Bishop of Ely, was purchased after his death by George I.
for £6,000, and presented to the University of Cambridge, where it now
is.[27:B] Evelyn himself was, as will have been gathered, an ardent
book-collector. He began forming a library very early in life, whilst
that of his brother came to him by bequest. At the time of his death he
had a very extensive collection of books at Wotton, which has been
considerably augmented by his successors. In the early part of the
present century William Upcott, of the London Institution, drew up a
complete catalogue. Upcott's appearance on the scene synchronized with
the disappearance of a number of volumes from the Evelyn Library; it has
been suggested that Lady Evelyn presented them to him 'or something of
that sort,' although the circumstance has never been officially
explained. Certain it is that a large number of books formerly in the
possession of the diarist have at times appeared in the auction-room.
The most important which occurred during the last few years are two
beautifully-written MSS., the work of Richard Hoare, one having the
title 'Instructions Oeconomiques,' 1648, with a dedication 'To the
present mistress of my youth, the hopeful companion of my riper years,
and the future nurse of my old age, Mrs. May Evelyn, my deare wife,'
etc. The second was a book of Private Devotions, 1650. Evelyn was also
unfortunate in his lifetime, inasmuch as the Duke of Lauderdale 'came to
my house, under pretence of a visit,' but in reality to borrow 'for a
few days' certain valuable MSS., which this aristocratic thief never
returned. So, too, he lent Burnet a quantity of MS. material for his
'History of the Reformation,' which, like other borrowed books, never
came back. A large number of first editions of the works of J. Evelyn,
together with some books from his library, illustrated with his
autograph notes, occurred in the sale of the library of the late Arthur
Davis, of Deptford and East Farleigh, July, 1857, many of which were
doubtless purloined at some time or other.
[Illustration: _Magdalen College, Oxford._]
Of all the seventeenth-century book-collectors, perhaps the most
interesting is that other diarist, Samuel Pepys. Samuel was not a man of
great learning, but his wit, his knowledge of the world, and his
humanity were unbounded. He welcomed almost anything in the shape of a
book, from a roguish French novel to a treatise on medals, from a loose
Restoration play to a maritime pamphlet, and from lives of the saints to
books on astrology or philosophy. Not a great man, perhaps, but one of
the most delightful and entertaining that one could wish. The
Secretary's 'Diary' is full of allusions to men and events of bookish
interest, and gives frequent illustrations of his amiable passion for
book-collecting. Fortunately, we have not to grope in the dark to get an
accurate portrait of the genial Samuel as a book-collector, for his
entire library is preserved, almost in the same state as he left it, at
Magdalen College, Oxford, 'as curious a medley of the grave and gay' as
any person of catholic tastes could wish for. The library consists of
almost 3,000 volumes, preserved in eleven mahogany bookcases. The books
are all arranged in double rows, the small ones in front being
sufficiently low to permit of the titles of the back row of larger ones
being easily read. The library is a remarkably accurate reflection of
the tastes of the founder. In addition to what is termed ordinary useful
books, there are many rarities, including no less than nine Caxtons, and
several from the press of Wynkyn de Worde and Pynson. The celebrated
collection of ballads, commenced by Selden and continued by Pepys, is
second only in importance to the famous Roxburghe collection now in the
British Museum. The manuscripts of various kinds form a very valuable
part of this celebrated collection.
[Illustration: _Sir Hans Sloane's Monument._]
John Bagford, the biblioclast (1675-1716), also finishes us, like
Evelyn, with a list of book-collectors who were contemporaneous with
him. Besides Bishop Moore, already mentioned, there were Sir Hans
Sloane, Lords Carbery (Duke of Kent), Pembroke, Somers, Sunderland, and
Halifax. Among the commoners who emulated their 'betters' were Messrs.
Huckle, Chichely, Bridges, Walter Clavell, Rawlinson, Slaughter, Topham,
Wanley, Captain Hatton, 'Right Hon. Secretary Harley,' and Dr. Salmon,
whose collection is said to have consisted of 1,700 folios. Edwards, in
his most valuable work on libraries, mentions yet a third list, which is
anonymous, and is apparently almost contemporaneous with Bagford's. The
list is introduced with the remark that 'the laudable emulation which is
daily increasing amongst the nobility of England, vying with each other
in the curiosities and other rich furniture of their respective
libraries, gives cheerful hope of having the long-hidden monuments of
ancient times raised out of their present dust and rubbish,' and then
makes special mention of the libraries of the Duke of Kent, Lords Derby,
Denbigh, Longueville, Willoughby de Broke, Sunderland, Somers, and
Halifax.
When good Mr. Evelyn described Sir Kenelm Digby's library as 'of more
pomp than intrinsic value,' and as 'chiefly consisting of modern poets,
romances, chemical and astrological books,' he did not contemplate the
future possibility of such despised trifles becoming fashionable and in
greater request than the accumulations of the collectors to whom the
classics were daily food. As Edwards has pointed out, the portion which
Digby gave to the Bodleian was in reality the fruit of the researches of
his tutor, Thomas Allen. The portion which was of his own collecting,
and consequently the only portion which accurately mirrored his own
tastes, he took with him to France when driven into exile. When he died
there, it apparently passed into the possession of Digby, Earl of
Bristol, on whose account it was sold in London in 1680, fifteen years
after its owner's death. The catalogue enumerated 3,878 items, of which
69 were manuscripts, the total of the sale being £904 4s.
Among the most famous of the seventeenth-century collectors were the two
brothers Francis, Baron Guilford, Lord Keeper (1637-1685), and Dr. John
North, master of Trinity College (1645-1683). Of these two there are
some very entertaining facts in Roger North's 'Lives of the Norths'
(1742-44). Dr. John North, we are told, 'very early in his career began
to look after books and to lay the foundation of a competent library
. . . buying at one lift a whole set of Greek classics in folio, in best
editions. This sunk his stock [of money] for the time; but afterwards
for many years of his life all that he could (as they say) rap or run
went the same way. But the progress was small, for such a library as
he desired, compared with what the pittance of his stock would
purchase, allowing many years to the gathering, was of desperate
expectation. . . . He courted, as a fond lover, all best editions,
fairest characters, best-bound and preserved. . . . He delighted in the
small editions of the classics by Seb. Gryphius, and divers of his
acquaintance, meeting with any of them, bought and brought them to him,
which he accepted as choice presents, although, perhaps, he had one or
two of them before. . . . His soul was never so staked down as in an old
bookseller's shop. . . . He was for the most part his own factor, and
seldom or never bought by commission, which made him lose time in
turning over vast numbers of books, and he was very hardly pleased at
last. I have borne him company in shops for many hours together, and,
minding him of the time, he hath made a dozen proffers before he would
quit. By this care and industry, at length he made himself master of a
very considerable library, wherein the choicest collection was Greek.'
At his death the collection came to his brother, the Lord Keeper.
As with Dr. John North, book-hunting was the consuming passion of the
life of a very different man--Richard Smyth or Smith (of whom there is a
very fine and rare engraving by W. Sherwin), one of the Secondaries or
Under-Sheriffs from 1644 to 1655. Having sufficient wealth, he resigned
his municipal appointment, which was worth £700 a year, in order to
devote himself entirely to book-hunting. Anthony à Wood describes him as
'infinitely curious and inquisitive after books,' and states that 'he
was constantly known every day to walk his rounds amongst the
booksellers' shops (especially in Little Britain).' Richard Chiswell,
the bookseller who drew up a catalogue of Smith's books, which
subsequently came into his possession _en bloc_, tells us that his skill
and experience enabled him 'to make choice of such books that were not
obvious to every man's eye. . . . He lived in times which ministered
peculiar opportunities of meeting with books that were not every day
brought into public light, and few eminent libraries were bought where
he had not the liberty to pick and choose. Hence arose, as that vast
number of his books, so the choiceness and rarity of the greatest part
of them, and that of all kinds, and in all sorts of learning.' This
collection was sold by auction in May, 1682, the catalogue of it
occupying 404 closely-printed pages in large quarto. There were fourteen
Caxtons, 'the aggregate produce' of which was £3 14s. 7d.; the 'Godfrey
of Bulloigne' selling for 18s., 'being K. Edwarde the IVth's owne
booke,' and the 'Booke of Good Manners,' for 2s.; the highest price in
the entire sale being given for Holinshed's 'Chronicle,' 'with the
addition of many sheets that were castrated, being . . . not allowed to
be printed,' £7. Smith left an interesting and valuable obituary list of
certain of his bibliopolic friends (which is reprinted in _Willis'
Current Notes_, February, 1853), one of whom, according to him, was
'buried at St. Bartholomew's, without wine or wafers, only gloves and
rosemary.'
[Illustration: _Little Britain in 1550._]
Dr. Francis Bernard, chief physician to James II., was an indefatigable
book-hunter; being 'a person who collected his books, not for
ostentation or ornament, he seemed no more solicitous about their dress
than his own, and, therefore, you'll find that a gilt back or a large
margin was very seldom an inducement for him to buy. 'Twas sufficient
for him that he had the book.' His library was sold in 1698, and
realized the then enormous sum of £2,000. John Bridges, of Lincoln's
Inn, the historian of Northamptonshire, was a collector who read as well
as bought books; his collection was sold at auction in 1726, when 4,313
lots realized £4,001. Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, was a collector
with comprehensive tastes and almost unlimited means. His collection is
now in the British Museum, and is computed to have numbered about 26,000
volumes, on the binding of only a portion of which he is said to have
expended £18,000, besides a mass of 350,000 pamphlets. Thomas Baker
(1625-1690) bequeathed a portion of his library to St. John's College,
Cambridge, notwithstanding the fact that he was ejected therefrom. He
was an unceasing collector, but his finances were scanty, and, worst of
all, he had to contend with collectors of greater wealth, or
'purse-ability' as Bodley calls it. Writing to Humfrey Wanley, he says:
'I begin to complain of the men of quality who lay out so much for
books, and give such prices that there is nothing to be had for poor
scholars, whereof I have found the effects. When I bid a fair price for
an old book, I am answered, the "quality" will give twice as much, and
so I have done. I have had much ado to pick up a few old books at
tolerable prices, and despair of any more.' About 2,000 of his books
went to St. John's College, and the others were sold by auction, many
bearing the inscription 'Thomas Baker, socius ejectus,' etc. The library
of another collector who, like Baker, had more of the kicks than of the
ha'pence of this life, Thomas Hearne (1678-1735), may be mentioned
briefly in this paragraph, for both were men of great learning. Hearne's
collection was sold in February, 1736, by Osborne the bookseller, 'the
lowest price being marked in each book.' On the title-page of the
catalogue, and beneath a poor portrait of Hearne, is the well-known
couplet:
'Quoth Time to Thomas Hearne,
"Whatever I forget, you learn."'
Humphrey Dyson is another book-collector of this period, and is
described by Hearne as 'a very curious man in collecting books.' The
Wesleys were book-lovers and readers, but have perhaps but little claim
to rank as collectors _pur sang_. However, it is interesting to point
out that Lilly's catalogue for 1863 included a copy of Purcell's
'Orpheus Britannicus,' 1706, with an inscription on the fly-leaf: 'C.
Wesley, junior. The valuable gift of his much-honor'd Father.'
The Restoration poets, like those of the Elizabethan period, had a
sufficiently hard fight to keep themselves in food; books were luxuries
which they could only venture to enjoy at long and uncertain intervals.
Dryden and Congreve, however, appear to have been addicted to the
pleasant pastime.
An exceedingly interesting copy of Spenser's 'Works,' folio, 1679, was
once in the possession of Mr. F. S. Ellis. On the fly-leaf occurred this
note: 'The corrections made in this book are of Mr. Dryden's own
handwriting. J. Tonson.' The volume occurred in an auction, where its
value was not detected. The 'corrections,' Mr. Ellis states, extend
through the whole of the volume, and bear witness to the care and
diligence with which Dryden had studied Spenser's poems. Several of the
notes are in explanation of the text, but for the most part are careful
and curious corrections of the text and press. The pedigree of this
volume is well established by its having in the cover the bookplate of
Thomas Barrett, of Lee, celebrated by Dibdin as a 'bibliomaniacal and
tasteful gentleman.' Though Barrett died in 1757, his library was not
dispersed till a few years since. Izaak Walton was a collector, and took
the wise precaution of writing his autograph in each volume, as the very
interesting score of examples now at Salisbury prove. His friend,
Charles Cotton, of cheerful memory, was much more of a book-collector,
although from the 'Angler' it would seem that his whole library was
contained in his hall window. Like Walton, Cotton wrote his autograph in
most of his books, which occur in the auction-room at irregular
intervals. The extent or variety of the Cotton correction may be
gathered from the following 'epigram' which Sir Aston Cokaine wrote
(1658) 'To my Cousin, Mr. Charles Cotton the Younger':
'D'Avila, Bentivoglio, Guicciardine,
And Machiavil, the subtle Florentine,
In their originals I have read through,
Thanks to your library, and unto you,
The prime historians of later times; at least
In the Italian tongue allow'd the best.
When you have more such books, I pray vouchsafe
Me their perusal, I'll return them safe.
Yet for the courtesy, the recompense
That I can make you will be only thanks.
But you are noble-soul'd, and had much rather
Bestow a benefit than receive a favour.'
[Illustration: _Charles, Third Earl of Sunderland._]
One of the most remarkable collections of books ever made by a private
individual was that known as the Sunderland Library. It was formed, not
only in the short space of twelve years, but at a time when many books,
now of almost priceless value, and scarcely to be had at any price, were
comparatively common, and certainly not costly. Neither money nor pains
was spared, 'and the bibliographical ardour of the founder soon began to
be talked of in the bookshops of the chief cities of Europe.' The
founder, Charles, third Earl of Sunderland, lived at Althorp, his town
house being in Piccadilly, on the site of which the Albany now stands.
At the latter place this library was lodged for several years. In
Macky's 'Journey through England,' 1724, Sunderland House is there
described as being separated from the street of Piccadilly 'by a wall
with large grown trees before the gate. . . . The greatest beauty of
this palace is the library, running from the house into the garden; and
I must say is the finest in Europe, both for the disposition of the
apartments, and of the books. The rooms, divided into five apartments,
are fully 150 feet long, with two stories of windows, and a gallery
runs round the whole in the second story for the taking down books. No
nobleman in any nation hath taken greater care to make his collection
complete, nor does he spare any cost for the most valuable and rare
books. Besides, no bookseller in Europe hath so many editions of the
same book as he, for he hath all, especially of the classicks.' The
founder of this famous library died on April 19, 1722. Evelyn has left a
few very interesting facts concerning this collection. Under the date
March 10, 1695, we read: 'I din'd at the Earl of Sunderland's with Lord
Spencer. My Lord shew'd me his library, now again improv'd by many books
bought at the sale of Sir Charles Scarborough, an eminent physician,
which was the very best collection, especially of mathematical books,
that was I believe in Europe, once design'd for the King's library at
St. James's, but the Queen dying, who was the greate patroness of the
designe, it was let fall, and the books were miserably dissipated.' Four
years later, April, 1699, we have another entry, to the effect that Lord
Spencer purchased 'an incomparable library,' until now the property of
'a very fine scholar, whom from a child I have known,' whose name does
not transpire [? Hadrian Beverland], but in whose library were many
'rare books . . . that were printed at the first invention of that
wonderful art.' In reference to Macky's incidental allusion to the Earl
of Sunderland's indifference to cost in forming his library, Wanley
confirms this. Writing in December, 1721, the diarist observes that the
books in Mr. Freebairn's library 'in general went low, or rather at vile
rates, through a combination of the booksellers against the sale. Yet
some books went for unaccountably high prices, which were bought by Mr.
Vaillant, the bookseller, who had an unlimited commission from the Earl
of Sunderland.' Among the items was an edition of Virgil, printed by
Zarothus _circa_ 1475: 'It was noted that when Mr. Vaillant had bought
the printed Virgil at £46, he huzza'd out aloud, and threw up his hat,
for joy that he had bought it so cheap.' When this famous book-collector
died, Wanley observes that 'by reason of his decease some benefit may
accrue to this library [Lord Oxford's], even in case his relations will
part with none of his books. I mean, _by his raising the price of books
no higher now_; so that, in probability, this commodity may fall in the
market; and any gentleman be permitted to buy an uncommon old book for
less than forty or fifty pounds.' The third son of this famous
book-collector, Charles, fifth Earl of Sunderland, and second Duke of
Marlborough, greatly enlarged the collection formed by his father; and
it was removed to Blenheim probably in 1734. This famous library
remained practically intact until it came under the hammer at Puttick
and Simpson's, occupying fifty-one days in the dispersal at intervals
from December 1, 1881, to March 22, 1883, the total being £55,581 6s. It
is stated that the library originally cost about £30,000.
Dr. David Williams, who from 1688 to the end of his life was minister
of a Presbyterian congregation which met at Hand Alley, Bishopsgate
Street, was a contemporary book-collector and book-hunter. His special
line was theology, and his library, which absorbed that of Dr. Bates,
once Rector of St. Dunstan's-in-the-East, is still preserved intact, and
is now, to a certain degree, a free library. Archbishop Tenison was
another great book-hunter of this period, and his library was preserved
more or less intact until 1861, when it was dispersed at Sotheby's,
under an order of the Charity Commissioners.
The brothers Thomas and Richard Rawlinson were, probably, the most
omnivorous collectors of the earlier part of the last century.
Everything in the shape of a book was welcomed. The former (1681-1725),
whose 'C. & P.' (collated and perfect) appears on the frontispiece,
title-page, or fly-leaf of books, when he lived in Gray's Inn, had so
filled his set of four rooms with books that he was obliged to sleep in
the passage. He is said to be the original study for the 158th _Tatler_,
in which 'Tom Folio' and other _soi-disant_ scholars are trounced. 'He
has a greater esteem for Aldus and Elzevir than for Virgil and Horace.'
It is very doubtful whether Addison (who wrote this particular _Tatler_)
really had Thomas Rawlinson in mind, whom he describes as 'a learned
idiot.' Swift has declared that some know books as they do lords; learn
their titles exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance. But neither
description is applicable to Rawlinson, who, for all that, may have
known much more about Aldus or the Elzevirs than about Virgil or Horace.
With a pretty taste for epithets, in which our forefathers sometimes
indulged, Hearne has defended his friend from Addison's sarcasms by
declaring that the mistake could only have been made by a 'shallow
buffoon.' That Rawlinson was a bibliomaniac there can be no question,
for if he had a score copies of one book, he would purchase another for
the mere gratification of possessing it. When he removed to the large
mansion in Aldersgate Street, which had been the palace of the Bishops
of London, and which he shared with his brother, 'the books still
continued to be better lodged than their owner.' He died, at the
comparatively early age of forty-four, as he had lived, among dust and
cobwebs, 'in his bundles, piles and bulwarks of paper.' The catalogue of
his huge mass of books was divided into nine parts; the sale of the MSS.
alone occupied sixteen days. Richard Rawlinson (died 1755) survived his
brother thirty years, and continued to collect books with all his
brother's enthusiasm, but without his sheer book-greed. His MSS. are at
Oxford, and the extent and richness of his accumulations may be gathered
from the fact that the collector laid nearly thirty libraries under
contribution. His printed books were sold in 1756 by Samuel Baker (now
Sotheby's), the sale occupying forty-nine days, and the total amounting
to £1,155 1s.; a second sale included 20,000 pamphlets, and a third sale
consisted of prints.
[Illustration: _London House, Aldersgate Street, 1808._]
Among the wisest and most distinguished book-collectors of the first
half of the last century is Dr. Richard Mead (1673-1754), a physician by
profession, but a bibliophile by instinct, and whom Dr. Johnson
described as having 'lived more in the broad sunshine of life than
almost any other man.' As Dr. Mead's fine library was 'picked up at
Rome,' it scarcely comes within our purview; but it may be mentioned
that so long as this fine collection remained intact in London, it was
_ipso facto_ a free library; it was especially rich in the classics,
sciences and history. The first part was sold by Samuel Baker in 1754,
and the second in the following year, the 6,592 lots occupying
fifty-seven days, the total of the books being £5,496 15s. Dr. Mead's
mantle descended to his great friend and pupil, Dr. Anthony Askew
(1722-1774), who had an exceedingly fine library; his career as a
collector began in Paris in 1749, and nearly all his choicest treasures
appear to have been gathered on the Continent, and chiefly it seems by
Joseph Smith, the English Consul at Venice. Askew's first library was
purchased by George III. in 1762, and now forms an integral part of the
British Museum. His subsequent accumulations were dispersed in two
sections, the books in 1775, and the MSS. ten years later. We shall have
occasion to refer again to the Askew sale. Dr. Richard Farmer appears to
have imbibed his taste for book-collecting from Askew, and became an
indefatigable haunter of the London and country bookstalls, his special
line being Early English literature, then scarcely at all appreciated;
it is stated that the collection, which cost him less than £500,
realized, when sold by auction by King in 1798, upwards of £2,000. Dr.
Farmer is better remembered by posterity as a Shakespearian critic or
commentator. He was a Canon Residentiary of St. Paul's, and appears to
have had what Dibdin describes as 'his foragers, his jackalls, and his
_avant-couriers_,' who picked up for him every item of interest in his
particular lines. As becomes the true bibliophile, he was peculiarly
indifferent to his dress, but he was a scholar of great abilities. A
glance at a priced copy of his sale catalogue is enough to turn any
book-lover green with envy. For example, his copy of Richard Barnfield's
'Encomion of Lady Pecunia, or the Praise of Money' (1598), sold for
19s., Malone being the purchaser. That copy is now in the Bodleian. In
1882, the Ouvry copy of the same book realized 100 guineas! A copy of
Milton's 'Paradise Lost' (1667), with the first title-page, sold for
11s.; a volume of twelve poems, chiefly printed by Wynkyn de Worde and
Pynson, realized 25 guineas. Each item would probably realize the
amount paid for the whole, should they again occur for sale, which is
most unlikely. Both his friends, George Steevens and Isaac Reed, were
equally zealous collectors, and each had a strong weakness for the same
groove of collecting. The library of Steevens was sold, also by King, in
1800, and the 1,943 items realized £2,740 15s.; whilst that of Reed,
sold seven years later, contained 8,957 articles, and realized £4,387.
Both Steevens and Isaac Reed call for a much more extended notice than
it is possible to give them here. Many of Steevens' books realized
twenty times the amount which he paid for them. Steevens, who was born
in 1736, resided in a retired house 'just on the rise of Hampstead
Heath,' so Dibdin tells us, the house being formerly known as the Upper
Flask Tavern, to which 'Richardson sends Clarissa in one of her escapes
from Lovelace.' Here, as Dibdin further tells us, Steevens lived,
embosomed in books, shrubs, and trees. 'His habits were indeed peculiar;
not much to be envied or imitated, as they sometimes betrayed the
flights of a madman, and sometimes the asperities of the cynic. His
attachments were warm, but fickle, both in choice and duration.' Several
of his letters are printed in Dibdin's 'Bibliomania' (edit. 1842), in
which will also be found a long series of extracts from the sale
catalogue of his library. There were nearly fifty copies of the first or
early quartos of the Shakespearian plays, which were knocked down at
prices varying from 5s. to, in a few instances, over £20. The first,
second, third and fourth folios realized £22, £18 18s., £8 8s., and £2
12s. 6d., respectively! Isaac Reed was in many ways a remarkable man. He
was the son of a baker in the parish of St. Dunstan's-in-the-West. Born
in 1742, he commenced professional life as a solicitor, which he soon
abandoned for the more congenial pursuit of literature. His knowledge of
English literature was unbounded, and the dispersal of his remarkable
library was one of the wonders of the year 1807. He was for over forty
years a diligent collector, and few days passed in that period which did
not witness an addition to his library. He died at his chambers in
Staple Inn. 'I have been almost daily at a book-auction,' writes
Malone--'the library of the late Mr. Reed, the last Shakespearian,
except myself, where my purse has been drained as usual. But what I have
purchased are chiefly books of my own trade. There is hardly a library
of this kind now left, except my own and Mr. Bindley's, neither of us
having the least desire to succeed the other in his peculiar species of
literary wealth.'
[Illustration: _St. Bernard's Seal._]
FOOTNOTES:
[27:A] In Hearne's 'Diary,' published by the Oxford Historical Society,
there is a very quaint note about the Duke of Lauderdale, who is
described as 'a Curious Collector of Books, and when in London would
very often go to y{e} Booksellers shops and pick up w{t} curious Books
he could meet with; but y{t} in his Elder years he lost much of his
Learning by minding too much Politicks.'
[27:B] At the Cambridge University Library there are some very
interesting diaries of this famous book-lover, styled 'Father of Black
Letter Collectors,' chiefly relating to the purchases of books. All the
more important facts have been published in the pages of the
_Bibliographer_.
[Illustration]
FROM THE OLD TO THE NEW.
I.
IN few phases of human action are the foibles and preferences of
individuals more completely imbricated than in that of book-collecting.
Widely different as were the book-hunters' fancies at the beginning and
at the end of the eighteenth century, yet it would not be possible to
draw a hard and fast line. For the greater part of that time the
classics of every description and of every degree of unimportance held
their own. Reluctant, therefore, to abandon the chief stimulant of their
earlier book-hunting careers, many collectors still took a keen interest
in their _primi pensieri_. But their real passion found a vent in other
and less beaten directions. In addition to this, during the eighteenth
century a large number of small working libraries were formed by men who
_used_ books. Henry Fielding, Goldsmith, Dr. Johnson, David Hume,
Smollett, Gibbon, Pope, and many others, are essentially figures in the
history of book-hunting in London, but they had neither the means nor,
so far as we are aware, the inclination to indulge in book-collecting as
a mere fashionable hobby. Mr. Austin Dobson has lately published an
interesting account of Fielding's library, in which he proves not only
that Fielding had been a fervent student of the classics in his youth
and that he remained a voracious reader through life, but that he made
good use of a large collection of Greek and Latin authors, which was
sold at his death.
[Illustration: _Mr. Austin Dobson._
From a photograph by E. C. Porter, Ealing.]
The eighteenth century may be regarded as the Augustan age so far as
book-hunting in London is concerned. A large percentage of the most
famous collections were either formed, or the collectors themselves were
either born or died, in that period. The Beckford and Hamilton, the
Heber, the Sunderland, the Althorp, and the King's Library, all had
their origins prior to 1800.
Richard Heber (1773-1833), with all his vast knowledge, learning, and
accomplishments, was a bibliomaniac in the more unpleasant sense of the
word. No confirmed drunkard, no incurable opium-eater, ever had less
self-control than Heber had. To him, to see a book was to possess it.
Cicero has said that the heart into which the love of gold has entered
is shut to every other feeling. Heber was very wealthy, so that with him
the love of books blinded him to almost everything else. He began to
collect when at Oxford, chiefly classics for the purpose of study. He is
said to have caught the disease from Bindley, the veteran collector, who
began book-hunting early in the last century. Having one day
accidentally met with a copy of Henry Peacham's 'Valley of Varietie,'
1638, which professed to give 'rare passages out of antiquity,' etc., he
showed it to Bindley, who described it as 'rather a curious book.' Why
such an incident should have set Heber on his terrible career history
telleth not. Under the name of 'Atticus,' Dibdin, who knew Heber well,
has described him in this fashion: 'Atticus unites all the activity of
De Witt and Lomenie, with the retentiveness of Magliabechi, and the
learning of Le Long. . . . Yet Atticus doth sometimes sadly err. He has
now and then an ungovernable passion to possess more copies of a book
than there were ever parties to a deed or stamina to a plant;
and therefore, I cannot call him a "duplicate" or a triplicate
collector. . . . But he atones for this by being liberal in the loan of
his volumes. The learned and curious, whether rich or poor, have always
free access to his library.' Heber's own explanation of this plurality
of purchase was cast somewhat in this fashion: 'Why, you see, sir, no
man can comfortably do without _three_ copies of a book. One he must
have for his show copy, and he will probably keep it at his country
house. Another he will require for his own use and reference; and unless
he is inclined to part with this, which is very inconvenient, or risk
the injury of his best copy, he must needs have a third at the service
of his friends.' The late Mr. Edward Solly was also a pluralist in the
matter of books, and had even six or seven copies of a large number of
works. He justified himself on the plea that he liked to have one to
read, one to make notes in, another with notes by a previous owner, one
in a choice binding, a 'tall' copy, a short ditto, and so forth. So far,
however, as Heber is concerned, no one could be more generous than he in
lending books. This might be proved from a dozen different sources,
including the lengthy introduction 'To Richard Heber, Esq.,' to the
sixth canto of Scott's 'Marmion':
'But why such instances to you,
Who, in an instant, can renew
Your treasured hoards of various lore,
And furnish twenty thousand more?
Hoards, not like theirs whose volumes rest
Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest,
While gripple owners still refuse
To others what they cannot use:
Give them the priest's whole century,
They shall not spell you letters three;
Their pleasure in the books the same
The magpie takes in pilfer'd gem.
Thy volumes, open as thy heart,
Delight, amusement, science, art,
To every ear and eye impart;
Yet who of all who thus employ them,
Can, like their owner's self, enjoy them?'
In addition to this reference, Scott, in one of his letters, speaks of
'Heber the magnificent, whose library and cellar are so superior to all
others in the world.' Frequent mention is made of Heber in the notes to
the Waverley novels. At one period of his life Heber was a Member of
Parliament, and throughout his career it seems that he found recreation
from the sport of collecting in the sport of the fields. He has been
known to take a journey of four or five hundred miles to obtain a rare
volume, 'fearful to trust to a mere commission.' He bought by all
methods, in all places, and at all times, a single purchase on one
occasion being an entire library of 30,000 volumes. Curiously enough, he
disliked large-paper copies, on account of the space they filled. When
he died, he had eight houses full of books--two in London, one in
Oxford, and others at Paris, Brussels, Antwerp, and Ghent, besides
smaller collections in Germany. When sold, the number of lots was
52,000, and of volumes about 147,000, and the total amount realized
£57,000, or about two-thirds of the original expenditure. The sale,
which commenced in 1834, lasted over several years, and the catalogue
alone comprises six thick octavo volumes. He is described as a tall,
strong, well-made man.
Writing to Sir Egerton Brydges, the Rev. A. Dyce observes concerning
Heber's death: 'Poor man! He expired at Pimlico,[47:A] in the midst of
his rare property, without a friend to close his eyes, and from all I
have heard I am led to believe that he died broken-hearted. He had been
ailing some time, but took no care of himself, and seemed, indeed, to
court death. Yet his ruling passion was strong to the last. The morning
he died he wrote out some memoranda for Thorpe about books which he
wished to be purchased for him' (Fitzgerald, 'The Book-Fancier,' p.
230).
In noticing Scott's edition of Dryden, and in alluding to the help which
Scott obtained from Heber and Bindley, the _Edinburgh Review_ speaks of
the two as 'gentlemen in whom the love of collecting, which is an
amusement to others, assumes the dignity of a virtue, because it gives
ampler scope to the exercise of friendship, and of a generous sympathy
with the common cause of literature.'
[Illustration: _William Beckford, Book-collector._]
William Beckford (1761-1844) and the tenth Duke of Hamilton (1767-1852),
for several reasons, may be bracketed together as book-collectors. Each
was a remarkable man in several respects. William Beckford, the author
of 'Vathek' and the owner of Fonthill, was a universal collector. No
less enthusiastic in amassing pictures and objects of art than books,
he never scrupled to sell anything and everything except his books,
which he dearly loved. A man who could draw eulogy from Byron could not
have been an ordinary person. Fonthill and its treasures were announced
for sale in September, 1822, the auctioneer being James Christie, the
catalogue being in quarto size, and comprising ninety-five pages. The
auction, however, did not take place, but the collection was sold _en
masse_ to a Mr. John Farquhar for £330,000, Beckford reserving, however,
some of his choicest books, pictures, and curiosities. In the following
year the whole collection was dispersed by Phillips, the auctioneer, the
sale occupying thirty-seven days. With the money he received from
Farquhar, Beckford purchased annuities and land near Bath. He united two
houses in the Royal Crescent by a flying gallery extending over the
road, and his dwelling became one vast library. He added to his
collection up to his last days, and obtained many books at Charles
Nodier's sale. Beckford was one of the greatest book-enthusiasts that
ever lived. His passion was more particularly for Aldines, and other
early books bearing the insignia of celebrities, such as Frances I.,
Henri et Diane, and De Thou, and especially of choice old morocco
bindings by Desseuil, Padeloup, and Derome. He was especially strong in
old French and Italian books, generically classified as _facetiæ_.
Beckford would read for days and weeks at a stretch, with no more
recreation than an occasional ride. That he read his books there is
ample testimony, for at his sale one lot comprised seven folio volumes
of transcripts from the autograph notes written by him on the fly-leaves
of the various works in his library. For example, to the copy of Peter
Beckford's 'Familiar Letters from Italy,' 1805, he concludes five pages
of notes with, 'This book has at least some merit. The language is
simple; an ill-natured person might add, and the thoughts not less so.'
In Brasbridge's 'Fruits of Experience,' 1824, he writes: 'They who like
hog-wash--and there are amateurs for anything--will not turn away
disappointed or disgusted with this book, but relish the stale, trashy
anecdotes it contains, and gobble them up with avidity.' After
Beckford's death, Henry G. Bohn offered £30,000 for the whole library;
but Beckford's second daughter, who married the Duke of Hamilton,
refused to sanction the sale. It, however, came under the hammer at
Sotheby's, 1881-1884, in four parts of twelve days each, the net result
being £73,551 18s.
The tenth Duke of Hamilton was one of the most distinguished
bibliophiles of his time, and commenced purchasing whilst yet Marquis of
Douglas. A large portion of his library was collected in Italy and
various parts of the Continent, whilst the collection of Greek and Latin
manuscripts which he obtained when on a diplomatic mission to Russia
formed an unrivalled series of monuments of early art. In 1810 he
married Susanna Beckford, and at her father's death the whole of his
splendid library came into his possession. The two collections, however,
were kept quite distinct. The Hamilton collection of printed books was
sold at Sotheby's in May, 1884, the eight days realizing £12,892 12s.
6d. The most important feature of the library, however, was the
magnificent collection of MSS. which the Prussian Government secured by
private treaty--through the intermediary, it is understood, of the
Empress Frederick--for £70,000. In May, 1889, those which the
authorities decided not to retain for the Royal Museum at Berlin were
transferred to Messrs. Sotheby's, and ninety-one lots realized the total
of £15,189 15s. 6d. The gems of the collection were a magnificent volume
of the Golden Gospels in Latin of the eighth century, formerly a gift to
Henry VIII., which sold for £1,500--a London bookseller once offered
£5,000 for this book--and a magnificent MS. of Boccaccio, 'Les Illustres
Malheureux,' on vellum, 321 leaves, decorated with eighty-four exquisite
miniatures, which sold for £1,700. It may be mentioned that a large
number of the Beckford and Hamilton books were purchased through the
late H. G. Bohn.
[Illustration: _George John, Earl Spencer._]
The Althorp Library, now in the possession of Mrs. Rylands, of
Manchester, was formed by George John, Earl Spencer (1758-1834),
between 1790 and 1820. Until its recent removal from Althorp it was the
finest private library in existence. In 1790 Lord Spencer acquired the
very fine and select library of Count Rewiczki, the Emperor Joseph's
Ambassador in London, for about £2,500, and for the next thirty years
the Earl was continually hunting after books in the sale-rooms and
booksellers' shops. The story of the Althorp Library has been so
repeatedly told, from the time of its first librarian, the devil-hunting
Thomas Frognall Dibdin--whose flatulent and sycophantic records are not
to be taken as mirroring the infinitely superior intellect and taste of
his employer--down to the present day, that any further description is
almost superfluous. Besides this, the library is one which will soon be
open to all. We may, however, mention a point which is of great
interest in the study of books as an investment. It may reasonably be
doubted whether the Althorp Library cost its founder much over £100,000;
it is generally understood that the price paid for it in 1892 was not
far short of £250,000.
[Illustration: _John, Duke of Roxburghe, Book-collector._]
Contemporaneously with the formation of the Althorp Collection, the Duke
of Roxburghe built a library, which was one of the finest and most
perfect ever got together. The Duke turned book-hunter through a love
affair, it is said. He was to have been married to the eldest daughter
of the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz; but when this lady's sister was
selected as a wife for George III., the proposed marriage was deemed
impolitic, and consequently the Duke remained single. The Duke himself
is said to have traced his passion for books to the famous dinner given
by his father, the second Duke, at which Lords Oxford and Sunderland
were present, and at which the celebrated copy of the Valdarfer
Boccaccio was produced. The history of this incident is told in our
chapter on Book-sales, and need not be here more specifically referred
to. The Duke was a mighty hunter, not only of books, but of deer and
wild swans. So far as books are concerned, his great specialities were
Old English literature, Italian poetry, and romances of the Round Table;
and as the first and last of these have increased in value as years have
gone by, it will be seen that the Duke was wise in his generation.
Indeed, we have it on the best authority that the aggregate outlay on
the Roxburghe Library did not exceed £4,000, whilst in the course of
little more than twenty years it produced over £23,397, the sale taking
place in June, 1812. The Duke of Roxburghe and Lord Spencer were not
averse to a little understanding of the nature of a 'knock-out,' for in
one of the Althorp Caxtons Lord Spencer has written: 'The Duke and I had
agreed not to oppose one another at the [George Mason] sale, but after
the book [a Caxton] was bought, to toss up who should win it, when I
lost it. I bought it at the Roxburghe sale on the 17 of June, 1812, for
£215 5s.'
[Illustration: _A corner in the Althorp Library._]
Yet another distinguished book-collector of the same period calls for
notice. George III. formed a splendid library out of his own private
purse and at a cost of £130,000. This library is now a part of the
British Museum. A library such as that of George III. gives very little
idea of a man's real tastes for books. The King availed himself of the
accumulated wisdom, not only of Barnard (who was his librarian for
nearly half a century), but of three or four other experts, among whom
was Dr. Johnson. The King's everyday tastes, however, may be gathered
from the subjoined list of books, which he wished to have on his visit
to Weymouth in 1795. He desired what he called 'a closet library' for a
watering-place; he wrote to his bookseller for the following works: the
Bible; the 'Whole Duty of Man'; the 'Annual Register,' 25 volumes;
Rapin's 'History of England,' 21 volumes, 1757; Millot's 'Elémens de
l'Histoire de France,' 1770; Voltaire's 'Siècles' of Louis XIV. and
Louis XV.; Blackstone's 'Commentaries,' 4 volumes; R. Burn's 'Justice of
Peace and Parish Officer,' 4 volumes; an abridgment of Dr. Johnson's
Dictionary; Boyer's 'Dictionnaire François et Anglais'; Johnson's
'Poets,' 68 volumes; Dodsley's 'Poems,' 11 volumes; Nichols' 'Poems,' 8
volumes; Steevens' 'Shakespeare'; 'Oeuvres' of Destouches, 5 volumes;
and the 'Works' of Sir William Temple, 4 volumes; of Addison, 4 volumes,
and Swift, 24 volumes. These books can scarcely be regarded as light
literature, and, if anything, calculated to add to the deadly dulness of
a seaside retreat at the end of the last century. However, the selection
is George III.'s, and must be respected as such.
The number of men who were prowling about London during the middle and
latter part of the last century after books is only less great than the
variety of tastes which they evinced. We have, for example, two such
turbulent spirits as John Horne Tooke and John Wilkes, M.P. Parson
Horne's (he subsequently assumed the name of his patron, William Tooke)
collection did not, as Dibdin has observed, contain a single edition of
the Bible; but it included seven examples of Wynkyn de Worde's press and
many other rare books. Eight hundred and thirteen lots realized the then
high amount of £1,250 when sold at King and Lochée's in 1813. John
Wilkes' books were sold at Sotheby's in 1802. If less notorious, many
equally enthusiastic book-collectors were hunting the highways and
byways of London. Here, for example, is a little anecdote relative to
one of these:
When the splendid folio edition of Cæsar's 'Commentaries,' by Clarke,
published for the express purpose of being presented to the great Duke
of Marlborough, came under the hammer at the sale (in 1781) of Topham
Beauclerk's library for £44, it was accompanied by an anecdote relating
to the method in which it had been acquired. Upon the death of an
officer to whom the book belonged, his mother, being informed that it
was of some value, wished to dispose of it, and, being told that Mr.
Topham Beauclerk (who is said to have but once departed from his
inflexible rule of never lending a book) was a proper person to offer it
to, she waited on him for that purpose. He asked what she required for
it, and, being answered £4 4s., took it without hesitation, though
unacquainted with the real value of the book. Being desirous, however,
of information with respect to the nature of the purchase he had made,
he went to an eminent bookseller's, and inquired what he would give for
such a book. The bookseller replied £17 17s. Mr. Beauclerk went
immediately to the person who sold him the book, and, telling her that
she had been mistaken in its value, not only gave her the additional 13
guineas, but also generously bestowed a further gratuity on her. Few
bargain-hunters would have felt called upon to act as Beauclerk[55:A]
did. Here is another anecdote of a contemporary book-hunter:
Nichols states that Mr. David Papillon (who died in 1762), a gentleman
of fortune and literary taste, as well as a good antiquary, contracted
with Osborne to furnish him with £100 worth of books, at 3d. apiece. The
only conditions were, that they should be perfect, and that there
should be no duplicate. Osborne was highly pleased with his bargain,
and the first great purchase he made, he sent Mr. Papillon a large
quantity; but in the next purchase he found he could send but few, and
the next still fewer. Not willing, however, to give up, he sent books
worth 5s. apiece, and at last was forced to go and beg to be let off the
contract. Eight thousand books would have been wanted!
An interesting collector, at once the type of a country gentleman and of
a true bibliophile, was Sir John Englis Dolben (1750-1837), of Finedon
Hall, Northamptonshire. He was educated at Westminster School,
proceeding thence to Christ Church in 1768. Previously to his final
retirement into the country, he lingered with much affection about the
haunts of his youthful studies. He carried so many volumes about with
him in his numerous and capacious pockets that he appeared like a
walking library, and his memory, particularly in classical quotations,
was equally richly stored. This is one side of the picture. This is the
other side, in which we get a view of the man-about-town collector in
the person of Alexander Dalrymple (1737-1808), the hydrographer to the
Admiralty and to the East India Company: 'His yellow antiquarian chariot
seemed to be immovably fixed in the street, just opposite the
entrance-door of the long passage leading to the sale-room of Messrs.
King and Lochée, in King Street, Covent Garden; and towards the bottom
of the table, in the sale-room, Mr. Dalrymple used to sit, a cane in his
hand, his hat always upon his head, a thin, slightly-twisted queue, and
silver hairs that hardly shaded his temple. . . . His biddings were
usually silent, accompanied by the elevation and fall of his cane, or by
an abrupt nod of the head.'
[Illustration: _Michael Wodhull, Book-collector._]
The Osterley Park Library, sold by order of the seventh Earl of Jersey
at Sotheby's in 1885, was commenced in the last century, the original
founder being Bryan Fairfax, who died in 1747. His books came into the
hands of Alderman Child, who was not only a book-collector, but
inherited Lord Mavor Child's books. The fifth Earl of Jersey married
Mr. Child's grand-daughter in 1804. Two mighty hunters of the old
school may be here briefly mentioned--John Towneley and Michael Wodhull,
the poet, both of whose collections were dispersed in several portions,
partly at the beginning of the present century, and partly within quite
recent times. The founder of the 'Bibliotheca Towneleiana' was for a
long period of years an ardent collector, his favourite studies being
English history, topography, and portraits. The great gem of his
collection was the splendid 'Vita Christi,' gorgeously ornamented with
full-page paintings, and with miniatures superbly executed in colours,
heightened with gold, by Giulio Clovio, in the finest style of Italian
art. This MS. was executed for Alexander, Cardinal Farnese, and
presented to Pope Paul III. It was purchased abroad by a Mr. Champernoun
for an inconsiderable sum, and cost Mr. Towneley 400 guineas. At its
sale in 1883 it realized £2,050. Two portions of the Towneley Library
were dispersed by Evans in 1814-15 (seventeen days), and realized over
£8,597, and other portions were sold in 1816 and 1817. Towneley himself
died in May, 1813, aged eighty-two. The remainder of his extensive
collection was sold at Sotheby's in 1883 (ten days). Wodhull, who died
November 10, 1816, aged seventy-six, had two sales during his lifetime,
first in 1801 (chiefly duplicates), and secondly in 1803 (chiefly Greek
and Roman classics). He, however, reserved for himself a library of
about 4,000, which, passing into the possession of Mr. F. E. Severne,
M.P., was sold at Sotheby's in January, 1886, and realized a total of
£11,973 4s. 6d. He is the Orlando of Dibdin's 'Bibliomania.' The Greek
and Roman classics formed the chief attraction of this _post-mortem_
sale, which is generally regarded as one of the most important of its
kind held during recent years. Most of the prizes were picked up in
France after 1803, and it was during one of his book-hunting expeditions
in Paris that Wodhull was detained by Napoleon.
Two other 'fashionable' or titled collectors may be here grouped
together. The fine library formed by William, Marquis of Lansdowne was
dispersed by Leigh and Sotheby in thirty-one days, beginning with
January 6, 1806, the 6,530 lots realizing £6,701 2s. 6d. The highest
amount paid for a single lot was for a very rare collection of tracts,
documents, and pamphlets, in over 280 volumes, illustrating the history
of the French Revolution, together with forty-nine volumes relative to
the transactions in the Low Countries between the years 1787 and 1792,
and their separation from the House of Austria. Wynkyn de Worde's
'Rycharde Cure de Lyon,' 1528, sold for £47 5s.; and a curious
collection of 'Masks' and 'Triumphs,' of the early seventeenth century,
mostly by Ben Jonson, realized £40. As a book-collector Sir Mark
Masterman Sykes is a much better remembered figure in the annals of
book-hunting than that of the Marquis of Lansdowne. The Sykes library
contained a number of the _editiones principes_ of the classics, some on
vellum, and also a number of Aldines in the most perfect condition.
There were also many highly curious and very rare pieces of early
English poetry. The collection was sold at Evans's in 1824, and the gems
of the collection were a copy of the Mazarin Bible, and the Latin
Psalter, 1459, to which full reference is made in a subsequent chapter.
II.
The history of literature, it is said, teaches us to consider its
decline only as the development of a great principle of succession by
which the treasures of the mind are circulated and equalized; as shoots
by which the stream of improvement is forcibly directed into new
channels, to fertilize new soils and awaken new capabilities. The
history of book-collecting teaches us a similar lesson. The love which
so often amounted to a positive passion for the exquisite productions of
the Age of Illuminated Manuscripts, all but died with the introduction
of the printing-press, which in reality was but a continuation of the
old art in a new form. And so on, down through the successive decades
and generations of the past four centuries, the decline--but not the
death, for such a term cannot be applied to any phase of
book-collecting--of one particular aspect of the hobby has synchronized
with the birth of several others, sometimes more worthy, and at others
less. An exhaustive inquiry into the various and manifold changes
through which the human mind passed alone might account for these
various developments, which it is not the intention of the present
writer on this occasion to analyze.
The rise and progress of what Sir Egerton Brydges calls 'the
black-letter mania' gave the death-blow to the long-cherished school of
poetry of which Pope may be taken as the most distinguished exponent.
'Men of loftier taste and bolder fancy early remonstrated against this
chilling confinement of the noblest, the most aspiring, and most
expansive of all the Arts. . . . It was not till the commotion of Europe
broke the chain of indolence and insipid effeminacy that the stronger
passions of readers required again to be stimulated and exercised and
soothed, and that the minor charms of correctness were sacrificed to the
ardent efforts of uncontrolled and unfearing genius. The authors of this
class began to look back for their materials to an age of hazardous
freedom, and copious and untutored eloquence: an age in which the world
of words and free and native ideas was not contracted and blighted by
technical critics and cold and fastidious scholars.' To abandon the
abstract for the more matter-of-fact details of sober history, the mania
to which Brydges alludes may be said to date itself from the spring of
1773. The occasion was the sale in London of the library of James West,
President of the Royal Society. George Nicol, the bookseller, was an
extensive purchaser at this sale for the King, for whom, indeed, he
acted in a similar capacity up to the last. Nicol told Dibdin 'with his
usual pleasantry and point, that he got abused in the public papers, by
Almon and others, for having purchased nearly the whole of the Caxtonian
volumes in this collection for his Majesty's library. It was said abroad
that a Scotchman had lavished away the King's money in buying old
black-letter books.' The absurdity of this report was soon proved at
subsequent sales. Dibdin adds, as a circumstance highly honourable to
the King, that 'his Majesty, in his directions to Mr. Nicol, forbade any
competition with those purchasers who wanted books of science and
_belles lettres_ for their own progressive or literary pursuits; thus
using the power of his purse in a manner at once merciful and wise.'
[Illustration: _George Nicol, the King's Bookseller._]
The impetus which book-collecting, and more particularly the section to
which we have just referred, received by the dispersal of the West
Library gathered in force as time went on, reaching its climax with the
Roxburghe sale thirty-nine years afterwards. The enthusiasm culminated
in a club--the Roxburghe, which still flourishes. The warfare (at
Roxburghe House, St. James's Square), as Mr. Silvanus Urban has
recorded, was equalled only by the courage and gallantry displayed on
the plains of Salamanca about the same period. 'As a pillar, or other
similar memorial, could not be conveniently erected to mark the spot
where so many bibliographical champions fought and conquered, another
method was adopted to record their fame, and perpetuate this brilliant
epoch in literary annals. Accordingly, a phalanx of the most hardy
veterans has been enrolled under the banner of the far-famed Valdarfer's
Boccaccio of 1471. . . . The first anniversary meeting of this noble
band was celebrated at the St. Alban's Tavern [St. Alban's Street, now
Waterloo Place] on Thursday, June 17, 1813, being the memorable day on
which the before-mentioned Boccaccio was sold for £2,260. The chair was
taken by Earl Spencer (perpetual president of the club), supported by
Lords Morpeth and Gower, and the following gentlemen,[61:A] viz., Sir E.
Brydges, Messrs. W. Bentham, W. Bolland, J. Dent, T. F. Dibdin
(vice-president), Francis Freeling, Henry Freeling, Joseph Hazlewood,
Richard Heber, Thomas C. Heber, G. Isted, R. Lang, J. H. Markland, J. D.
Phelps, T. Ponton, junior, J. Towneley, E. V. Utterson, and R.
Wilbraham. Upon the cloth being removed, the following appropriate
toasts were delivered from the chair:
1. The cause of Bibliomania all over the world.
2. The immortal memory of Christopher Valdarfer,
the printer of the Boccaccio of 1471.
3. The immortal memory of William Caxton, first
English printer.
4. The immortal memory of Wynkyn de Worde.
5. The immortal memory of Richard Pynson.
6. The immortal memory of Julian Notary.
7. The immortal memory of William Faques.
8. The immortal memory of the Aldine family.
9. The immortal memory of the Stephenses.
10. The immortal memory of John, Duke of Roxburghe.
'After these the health of the noble president was proposed, and
received by the company standing, with three times three. Then followed
the health of the worthy vice-president (proposed by Mr. Heber),
which, it is scarcely necessary to observe, was drunk with similar
honours. . . . The president was succeeded in the chair by Lord Gower,
who, at midnight, yielded to Mr. Dent; and that gentleman gave way to
the Prince of Bibliomaniacs, Mr. Heber. Though the night, or rather the
morning, wore apace, it was not likely that a seat so occupied would be
speedily deserted; accordingly, the "regal purple stream" ceased not to
flow till "Morning oped her golden gates," or, in plain terms, till past
four o'clock.' Such is a brief account of the Roxburghe Club, which is
limited to thirty-one members, one black ball being fatal to the
candidate who offers himself for a vacancy, and each member in his
annual turn has to print a book or pamphlet, and to present to his
fellow-members a copy. Before making any further reference to the
_personnel_ of the Roxburghe Club, we quote, from a literary journal of
1823, the following trenchant paragraph, _à propos_ of a similar club in
Scotland:
'BIBLIOMANIA.--This most ridiculous of all the affectations of the day
has lately exhibited another instance of its diffusion, in the
establishment of a _Roxburghe[62:A] Club_ in Edinburgh. Its object, we
are told, "is the republication of scarce and valuable tracts,
especially poetry."--"Republication!" In what manner? Commonsense forbid
that the system of the London Roxburghe Club be adopted. Of this there
are some four-and-twenty members or so, who dine together a certain
number of times in the year, and each member in his turn republishes
some old tract at his own expense. There are just so many copies printed
as there are members of the club, and one copy is presented to each. It
is evident that no sort of good can be effected by this system, and,
indeed, there has not yet resulted any benefit to the literature of the
country from the Roxburghe Club. They have not published a single book
of any conceivable merit. The truth is that the members, for the most
part, are a set of persons of no true taste, of no proper notion of
learning and its uses--very considerable persons in point of wealth, but
very _so-so_ in point of intellect.'
[Illustration: _Thomas Frognall Dibdin, Bibliographer._]
The primary aim and object of the Roxburghe Club were clearly enough
indicated in the first list of members, for the association of men with
kindred tastes is at all times a highly commendable one. The Roxburghe
Club might have sustained its _raison d'être_, if it had drawn the line
at such men as Thomas Frognall Dibdin and Joseph Hazlewood. The
foregoing extract from the _Museum_ of 1823 exactly indicates the
position which the club at that time held in public estimation. It had
degenerated into a mere drinking and gormandizing association, alike a
disgrace to its more respectable members and an insult to the nobleman
whose name it was dragging through the mire. Those who have an
opportunity of consulting the _Athenæum_ for 1834 will find, in the
first four issues of January, one of the most scathing exposures to
which any institution has ever been subjected. Hazlewood had died, and
his books came into the sale-room. Never had the adage of 'Dead men tell
no tales' been more completely falsified. Hazlewood, who does not seem
to have been unpleasantly particular in telling the truth when living,
told it with a vengeance after his death; for among his papers there was
a bundle entitled 'Roxburghe Revels,' which Thorpe purchased for £40,
the editor of the _Athenæum_ being the under-bidder. A few days
afterwards, and for the weighty consideration of a £10 note profit, the
lot passed into the hands of Mr. Dilke, and the articles to which we
have referred followed.[64:A] If anything could have made the deceased
Joseph turn in his grave, it would have been the attention which he
received at the unsparing hands of Mr. Dilke. The excellent Mr. Dibdin
survived the exposure several years. The castigation proved beneficial
to the club; and if its revelries were no less boisterous than
heretofore, it at all events circulated among its members books worthy
of the name of Roxburghe, and edited in a scholarly manner. The club
still flourishes, with the Marquis of Salisbury as its president, and
the list of its members will be found in our chapter on 'Modern
Collectors.'
[Illustration: _Rev. C. Mordaunt Cracherode, M.A., Book-collector._]
One of the mighty book-hunters of the last century was the Rev. Clayton
Mordaunt Cracherode (whose father went out as a commander of marines in
Anson's ship, and whose share in the prize-money made him a wealthy
man), who died on April 6, 1799, in his seventieth year. His splendid
library now forms a part of the British Museum. It contains the most
choice copies in classical and Biblical literature, and many of these
are on vellum. His collection of editions of the fifteenth century Mr.
Cracherode used modestly to call a 'specimen' one; 'they form perhaps
the most perfect _collana_ or necklace ever strung by one man.' Several
of the books formerly belonged to Grolier. His library was valued at
£10,000 at or about the time of his death; it would probably now realize
considerably over ten times that amount if submitted to auction. The
value of his prints was placed at £5,000. Cracherode was an excellent
scholar, and an amiable; his passion for collecting was strong even in
death, for whilst he was at the last extremity his agent was making
purchases for him. He was one of the most constant habitués of Tom
Payne's, and at his final visit he put an Edinburgh Terence in one
pocket and a large-paper Cebes in the other. His house was in Queen
Square, Westminster, overlooking St. James's Park.
Reverting once more to the change which had been effected in the fancies
of book-collectors, James Bindley, whose library was sold after his
decease in 1819, and James Perry, who died in 1821, may be regarded as
typical collectors of the transition period. Both are essentially London
book-hunters--the former was an official in the Stamp Office, and the
latter was, _inter alia_, the editor of the _Morning Chronicle_.
Bindley, to whom John Nichols dedicated his 'Literary Anecdotes,' was a
book-hunter who made very practical use of his scholarly tastes and
ample means. He haunted the bookstalls and shops with the pertinacity of
a tax-gatherer, and if his original expenditure were placed by the side
of the total which his collection of books brought after his death, no
more convincing arguments in favour of book-hunting could possibly be
needed. Bindley is the 'Leontes' of Dibdin's 'Bibliographical
Decameron,' and his collection of poetical rarities of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries was one of the most remarkable which had ever been
got together. Not many of the items had cost him more than a few
shillings each, and they realized almost as many pounds as he had paid
shillings. Perry was a journalist first and a book-collector afterwards,
but in many respects there was a great similarity in the tastes of the
two rival bibliophiles. Perry's was the more extensive collection--it
was sold in four parts, 1822-23--and perhaps on the whole much more
generally interesting. Evans, the auctioneer, described it as 'an
extraordinary assemblage of curious books, Early English poetry, old
tracts and miscellaneous literature.' The _cheval de bataille_ of the
fourth part consisted of 'a most Curious, Interesting and
Extraordinarily Extensive Assemblage of Political and Historical
Pamphlets of the Last and Present Century.' This collection was
comprised in thirty-five bundles. Perry made a speciality of facetiæ,
pamphlets on the French Revolution, and Defoe's works, but the two
cornerstones of his library were a copy of the Mazarin Bible and a First
Folio Shakespeare.
Among the many book-collectors whose careers link the past century with
the present, few are more worthy of notice than Francis Douce, who died
in the spring of 1834, aged seventy-seven. He was for a short time
Keeper of the MSS. in the British Museum. His fortune was much increased
by being left one of the residuary legatees of Nollekens, the
sculptor--to the extent, in fact, of £50,000. Dibdin, who was for many
years a near neighbour and intimate friend at Kensington, describes
Douce's library as 'eminently rich and curious . . . not a book but what
had its fly-leaf written upon. In short, no man ever lived so much with,
and so entirely for, his books as did he.' Douce is the Prospero of the
'Bibliomania.' His books he bequeathed to the Bodleian, and his MSS. to
the British Museum, the stipulation in the latter case being that they
are not to be opened until 1900! In manners and appearance Douce was
singular and strange, rough to strangers, but gentle and kind to those
who knew him intimately. He was of the old school as regards dress,
wearing as he did a little flaxen wig, an old-fashioned square-cut coat,
with what M. Jacob calls 'quarto pockets.' Several of his letters are
printed in Dibdin's 'Literary Recollections.'
Two other distinguished book-collectors, contemporary with Douce, and,
like him, benefactors to the Bodleian, may be mentioned here--Richard
Gough (1739-1809), the antiquary; and Edmond Malone (1741-1812), the
Shakespearian scholar. Gough's gift consisted of the topographical
portion of his library; the remainder, comprising 4,373 lots, realizing
the total of £3,552, came under the hammer at Leigh and Sotheby's in
1810, realizing what were then considered very fancy prices (a selection
of which are given in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, lxxx., part ii.). The
Malone collection, which became the property of the Bodleian through the
influence of Lord Sunderlin in 1815, comprised what the collector
himself describes as 'the most curious, valuable, and extensive
collection ever assembled of ancient English plays and poetry.' It would
probably be impossible now to form another such collection. Malone told
Caldwell, who repeats the remarkable fact, that he had procured every
dramatic piece mentioned by Langbaine, excepting four or five--the
advantage, observes that gentleman, of living in London. The number of
volumes amounts to about 3,200. As his biographer, Sir James Prior, has
pointed out, his collection in the Bodleian remains distinct, and is
creditable 'alike to the industry, taste, and patience by which it was
brought together.' And further: 'None of his predecessors have attempted
what he accomplished. Few of his successors have, on most points, added
materially to our knowledge.' Yet a third benefactor to the Bodleian may
be conveniently mentioned here. Thomas Caldecott, who was born in 1744,
and died in 1833, was a Fellow of New College, Oxford, and afterwards a
Bencher of the Middle Temple. He resided chiefly at Dartford, and formed
a choice library of black-letter books, and the productions of the
Elizabethan period. He attacked with considerable asperity and ability
Shakespearian commentators, such as Steevens and Malone; and his rivals
did not spare his edition of two of Shakespeare's plays when they came
out. He presented the gems of his library, the Shakespeare quartos, to
the Bodleian; but the remainder of his books, including many excessively
rare and several unique pieces, came up for sale at Sotheby's in 1833,
and realized a total of £1,210 6s. 6d.
The splendid library of John Dent, of Hertford Street, sold by Evans in
1827, producing the sum of £15,040, had a curious history. The nucleus
of it was formed towards the close of the last century by Haughton
James, who, in a moment of conviviality, and without a due consideration
of its true value, transferred it to Robert Heathcote,[68:A] who made
several additions, and from whose possession it passed about 1807 into
that of John Dent. The sale of the Dent library is described by Dibdin
as exhibiting the 'first grand melancholy symptoms of the decay of the
Bibliomania.' The chief attraction was the Sweynheym and Pannartz Livy,
1469, on vellum, which fell (in more senses than one) under the hammer
for £262, Dent having paid £903 for it at Sir Mark Sykes' sale. Both the
purchasers, Payne and Foss, and Dibdin, made strenuous efforts to
persuade the Earl of Spencer to purchase it, but unsuccessfully; it
subsequently became the property of Grenville, and passed with his
collection into the British Museum. Dent is the Pontevallo of the
'Bibliomania,' and Baroccio of the 'Bibliographical Decameron,' and does
not seem to have been an altogether amiable specimen of the fraternity.
Canning used to say that he once found Dent deep in the study of an open
book which was upside down!
A much more genial bibliomaniac, Sir William Bolland, calls for notice;
he was one of the original members of the Roxburghe Club, which, in
fact, was first suggested at a dinner-party at his house, June 4, 1812.
He died May 14, 1840, aged sixty-eight, and his library, which comprised
2,940 lots, and realized £3,019, was sold by Evans, and included many
choice books. One of the greatest bargains which this distinguished
collector secured during his career became his property through the
medium of Benjamin Wheatley, who purchased a bundle of poetical tracts
from the Chapter Library at Lincoln for 80 guineas. When the inevitable
sale came, one of these trifles, 'The Rape of Lucrece,' alone realized
100 guineas.
George Chalmers (1742-1825), who is described as 'the most learned and
the most celebrated of all the antiquaries and historians of Scotland,'
was also one of the giant book-collectors of the present century, and
differed from the majority of collectors in being a prolific and
versatile author. At his death his nephew became the possessor of his
extensive library, but on the death of the nephew the books were placed
in the hands of Evans, who sold them in two parts, September, 1841, and
February, 1842, and realized over £4,100. The second part was very rich
in Shakespeariana, and included the 'Sonnets,' 1609, £105; 'Midsummer
Night's Dream,' 1600 (second edition), £105; and many other important
items. In the first part of the sale, Marlowe's 'Tragedie of Richard,
Duke of York,' 1595 (believed to be unique), sold for £131; and the only
perfect copy then known of Patrick Hannay's 'Nightingale,' 1622, from
the libraries of Bindley, Perry, Sykes and Rice, £13 5s. The third part
of Chalmers' library, which consisted for the most part of works
relative to Scotland, particularly in illustration of the History of
Printing in that Country, was also sold by Evans in 1842. Among other
book-collectors of this period we may mention particularly the Rev.
Henry Joseph Thomas Drury, whose library was rich in classics, all for
the most part finely bound; it came under the hammer at Evans's in 1827
(4,729 lots); Dr. Isaac Gosset, who died in 1812, in his sixty-eighth
year, and whose library, comprising 5,740 lots, realized £3,141 7s. 6d.
at Leigh and Sotheby's in 1813; the Rev. Jonathan Boucher (1738-1804),
Vicar of Epsom, who, like George Chalmers, for many years resided in
America, was, also like him, an inveterate book-collector to whom
everything in the shape of a book was welcome: his sale occupied Leigh
and Sotheby thirty-nine days, in 1806, the total being over £4,510.
III.
The history of the second and third quarters of the present century
makes mention of very few collectors of the first rank. Among the more
important of those whose libraries came under the hammer within that
period, we may specially refer to the following: William Upcott, who
started early in life as an assistant to R. H. Evans, but who in 1806
became sub-librarian of the London Institution. He was one of the first
to take up autograph-collecting, of which, indeed, he has been termed
the pioneer. He certainly collected with great advantage and knowledge,
and his vast accumulations were sold at Sotheby's in four batches
during 1846, he having died in September, 1845; John Hugh Smyth Piggott,
whose library, in three portions, was sold at the same place, 1847-54;
W. Y. Ottley, the prolific writer of books on art, 1849; W. Holgate, of
the Post Office, whose library included a number of Shakespeariana,
June, 1846; Hanrott, 1857; Sir Thomas Bernard, 1855; Isaac D'Israeli,
the author of 'Curiosities of Literature,' in 1849, and his unsparing
critic, Bolton Corney, in 1871; S. W. Singer, in four parts, 1860; J.
Orchard Halliwell (afterwards Halliwell-Phillipps), in 1856, 1857, and
1859; and the Rev. Dr. Hawtrey, part of whose books were sold, far below
their worth, in 1853, and the rest nine years later. Many of the
foregoing were literary men, who aimed rather at getting together a
useful library than one of rarities. The sale of all such libraries
makes a very sorry show beside that of the more ostentatious
collections. For instance, the books which Macaulay used with such
brilliant effect, and including among them an extraordinary number of
tracts, many excessively rare, only realized £426 15s. 6d., when sold in
1863 in 1,011 lots. Douglas Jerrold's little library, sold in August,
1859, in 307 lots, only fetched £173 3s. In very strong contrast to
these is the remarkable little library, formed between 1820 and 1830 by
Henry Perkins, of Hanworth Park, Feltham, a member of the brewing firm.
This collection comprised only 865 lots, but when sold at Sotheby's in
June, 1873, the total was found to be close on £26,000! There was a
copy each of the 42-line and 40-line Gutenberg Bible--the former is now
in the Huth Library, and the latter in the Ashburnham Library; several
other very early printed Bibles, including Coverdale's, Matthews', and
Cranmer's, two works printed by Caxton, with many other important books
were sold.
[Illustration: _J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps._]
The late George Daniel (who was born about 1790) may be regarded as the
connecting link between the collectors of the early part of the present
century and those of to-day. When, for example, Perry and Bindley left
off, Daniel commenced. There was no great rush after Shakespeare quartos
in the earlier part of the present century, and book-collecting for a
time ceased to be the pet hobby of wealthy members of the peerage. When
George Daniel, a critic and bibliographer of exceptional abilities,
began to collect, he soon made Shakespeare, as well as the earlier
English poets, objects of solicitude. He resided for many years in the
historic old red-brick tower at Canonbury.[72:A] The sale of Daniel's
extraordinary collection was held at Sotheby's in July, 1864, when a
First Folio, one of the finest in the world--now in the possession of
Baroness Burdett-Coutts--sold for £716 2s., and when twenty of the
Shakespeare quartos realized a total of about £3,000.
[Illustration: _Canonbury Tower, George Daniel's Residence._]
George Daniel is now remembered by but few book-collectors. Mr. W. Carew
Hazlitt knew him very well, and describes him as a retired accountant,
whose idiosyncrasy consisted of _rares morçeaux_, _bonnes bouches_,
uniques--copies of books with a _provenance_, or in jackets made for
them by Roger Payne--nay, in the original parchment or paper wrapper, or
in a bit of real mutton which certain men call sheep. He was a person
of literary tastes, and had written books in his day. But his chief
celebrity was as an acquirer of those of others, provided always that
they were old enough or rare enough. An item never passed into his
possession without at once _ipso facto_ gaining new attributes, almost
invariably worded in a holograph memorandum on the fly-leaf. Daniel was
in the market at a fortunate and peculiar juncture, just when prices
were depressed, about the time of the great Heber sale. His marvellous
gleanings came to the hammer precisely when the quarto Shakespeare, the
black-letter romance, the unique book of Elizabethan verse, had grown
worth ten times their weight in sovereigns. Sir William Tite, J. O.
Halliwell, and Henry Huth were to the front. It was in 1864. What a
wonderful sight it was! No living man had ever witnessed the like.
Copies of Shakespeare, printed from the prompters' MSS. and published at
fourpence, fetched £300 or £400. I remember old Joseph Lilly, when he
had secured the famous Ballads, which came from the Tollemaches of
Helmingham Hall, holding up the folio volume in which they were
contained in triumph as someone whom he knew entered the room. Poor
Daniel! he had no mean estimate of his treasures--what he had was always
better than what you had. Books, prints, autographs--it was all the
same. I met him one morning in Long Acre. I had bought a very fine copy
of Taylor, the Water Poet. "Oh, yes, sir," he said, "I saw it; but not
quite so fine as mine." He went up to Highgate to look through the
engravings of Charles Matthews the elder. They were all duplicates--of
course inferior ones. "Damn him, sir!" cried Matthews afterwards to a
friend; "I should like him to have had a duplicate of my wooden leg."
John Payne Collier, who was born a year before Daniel, but who lived
until 1883, was a collector with very similar tastes. He had been a
reporter on the _Morning Chronicle_, and in all probability imbibed some
of his book-collecting zeal from Perry. His book-buying and literary
career commenced, according to his own account, in 1804 or 1805, when
his father took him into the shop of Thomas Rodd, senior, on which
occasion he purchased his 'first Old English book of any value,' namely,
Wilson's 'Art of Logic,' printed by Grafton, 1551; from this he
ascertained that 'Ralf Roister Doister' was an older play than 'Gammer
Gurton's Needle,' and also that it was by Nicholas Udal, Master of Eton
School. When in Holland, in the winter of 1813-14, Collier purchased
among other books an imperfect copy of Tyndale's 'Gospel of St.
Matthew,' to which, as he says in his 'Diary,' 'the date of 1526 [1525]
has been assigned, and which seems to be the very earliest translation
into English of any portion of the New Testament. Many years
afterwards--I think in the spring of 1832--I happened to show it to
Rodd, the learned bookseller. I was at that time ignorant on the
subject, and Rodd offered me books to the value of two or three pounds
for it. I gladly accepted them.' This fragment, for which Collier paid a
florin, was sold to Mr. Grenville by Rodd for £50, and is now in the
British Museum. Writing in the _Athenæum_, January 31, 1852, he gives an
account of the origin of events which led to one of the fiercest
literary quarrels of modern times: 'A short time before the death of the
late Mr. Rodd, of Newport Street [_i.e._ early in 1849], I happened to
be in his shop when a considerable parcel of books arrived from the
country. He told me that they had been bought for him at an auction--I
think in Bedfordshire. . . . He unpacked them in my presence . . . and
there were two which attracted my attention, one being a fine copy of
Florio's "Italian Dictionary," of the edition of 1611, and the other a
much-thumbed, abused, and imperfect copy of the Second Folio of
Shakespeare, 1632. The first I did not possess, and the last I was
willing to buy, inasmuch as I apprehended it would add some missing
leaves to a copy of the same impression which I had had for some time on
my shelves. As was his usual course, Mr. Rodd required a very reasonable
price for both; for the first I remember I gave 12s. and for the last
only £1 10s. . . . On the outside of one of the covers was inscribed,
"Tho. Perkins, his booke."' Collier was vexed at finding that the volume
contained no leaves which would help him in completing the volume he
already had. He had employed another person to do the collating, and it
was not until some considerable time after, and on examining thoroughly
the volume himself, that he discovered it to contain a large series of
emendations, which Collier included in his 'Notes and Emendations to the
Text of Shakespeare's Plays,' 1853, which set the whole town by the
ears. Collier's library was dispersed at Sotheby's in 1884; it was an
unusually interesting sale, and included many very rare and curious
books.
[Illustration: _Samuel Taylor Coleridge._
From the Portrait by G. Dawe, R.A., 1812.]
Southey, Coleridge, Charles Lamb, Wordsworth, and William Hazlitt were
book-collectors of a type which deserves a niche to itself. Writing to
Coleridge in 1797, Lamb says: 'I have had thoughts of turning Quaker,
and have been reading, or am, rather, just beginning to read, a most
capital book, good thoughts in good language, William Penn's "No Cross,
no Crown." I like it immensely.' Lamb's ideas of book-marking are to be
found in his correspondence with Coleridge, in which he states that a
book reads the better when the topography of its plots and notes is
thoroughly mastered, and when we 'can trace the dirt in it, to having
read it at tea with buttered muffins, or over a pipe.' Lamb's library
consisted for the most part of tattered volumes in a dreadful state of
repair. Lamb, like Young, the poet, dog-eared his books to such an
extent that many of them would hardly close at all. From the
correspondence of Bernard Barton we get a glimpse at Lamb's cottage in
Colebrook Row, Islington--a white house with six good rooms. 'You enter
without passage into a cheerful dining-room, all studded over and rough
with old books.' Barton also writes: 'What chiefly attracted me was a
large old book-case full of books. I could but think how many long walks
must have been taken to bring them home, for there were but few that
did not bear the mark of having been bought at many a bookstall--brown,
dark-looking books, distinguished by those white tickets which told how
much their owner had given for each.'
[Illustration: _Lamb's Cottage at Colebrook Row, Islington._]
In an edition of Donne [? 1669] which belonged to Lamb, Coleridge
scrawled: 'I shall die soon, my dear Charles Lamb, and then you will not
be vexed that I have be-scribbled your book. S. T. C., 2nd May, 1811.'
Lamb was too good-natured to be a book-collector. On one occasion
William Hazlitt[77:A] sent Martin Burney to Lamb to borrow Wordsworth's
'Excursion,' and Lamb being out, Burney took it, a high-handed
proceeding which involved the borrower in a blowing-up. Coleridge at
another time helped himself to Luther's 'Table-Talk,' and this also
called forth a great outcry. A copy of Chapman's Homer, which passed
through the hands of Wordsworth and S. T. Coleridge, eventually turned
up in one of Lilly's catalogues. This identical copy is noticed in an
account of Rydal Mount which appeared in the first volume of _Once a
Week_. Coleridge, of course, has made a number of notes in it, and in
one of these he describes the translation as 'an exquisite poem, spite
of its frequent and perverse quaintness and harshnesses, which are,
however, amply repaid by almost unexampled sweetness and beauty of
language.'
[Illustration: _William Hazlitt._]
The difference between a bibliophile and a bibliomaniac has been
described as between one who adorns his mind, and the other his
book-cases. Of the bibliomaniac as here characterized, we can suggest no
better type than Thomas Hill, the original of Poole's 'Paul Pry,' and of
Hull in Hook's novel, 'Gilbert Gurney.' Devoid as Hill was of
intellectual endowments, he managed to obtain and secure the friendship
of many eminent men--of Thomas Campbell, the poet, Matthews and Liston,
the comedians, Hook, Dubois, John and Leigh Hunt, James and Horace
Smith, John Taylor, editor of the _Sun_, Horace Twiss, Baron Field, Sir
George Rose, Barnes, subsequently editor of the _Times_, Cyrus Redding,
and many others. That he was kind-hearted and hospitable nearly everyone
has testified, and his literary parties at his Sydenham Tusculum were
quite important events, in spite of the ponderosity of his well-worn
stories. During the more acute stages of bibliomania in this country at
the latter part of the last century and the beginning of this, 'when the
Archaica, Heliconia, and Roxburghe Clubs were outbidding each other for
old black-letter works . . . when books, in short, which had only become
scarce because they were always worthless, were purchased upon the same
principle as that costly and valueless coin, a Queen Anne's farthing,'
Hill had been a constant collector of rare and other books which were in
demand. That he knew nothing of the insides of his books is very
certain; but he knew how much each copy would bring at an auction, and
how much it had brought at all previous sales. When the bibliomania had
reached its height, Messrs. Longman and Co. determined upon embarking in
such a lucrative branch of the trade; they applied to Hill for advice
and assistance, offering to begin by the purchase of his entire
collection, a proposition which he embraced with alacrity. He drew up a
_catalogue raisonné_ of his books, affixing his price for each volume.
The collection was despatched in three or four trunks to Paternoster
Row, and he received in payment the acceptances of the firm for as many
thousand pounds. From some cause or other, the purchasers soon repented
of their bargain, but the only terms which Horace Smith could obtain for
the Longmans was an extension in the term of payment. Hill declared that
the collection was worth double the price he had been paid for it. For
many years Hill assisted Perry, of the _Morning Chronicle_, in making
selections of rare books for his fine library at Tavistock House,
particularly in the department of facetiæ. After leaving Sydenham, Hill
took chambers in James Street, Adelphi, where he resided until his
death. The walls of his rooms were completely hidden by books, and his
couch was 'enclosed in a lofty circumvallation of volumes piled up from
the carpet.' He was never married, had no relations, and even his age
was a source of mystery to his friends. James Smith once said to him:
'The fact is, Hill, the register of your birth was destroyed in the
Great Fire of London, and you take advantage of the accident to conceal
your real age.' Hook went further by suggesting that he might originally
have been one of the little hills recorded as skipping in the Psalms.
Hill died in 1840, his age being placed at eighty-three years. Horace
Smith said 'he could not believe that Hill was dead, and he could not
insult a man he had known so long; Hill would reappear.'
[Illustration: _Thomas Hill, after Maclise._]
Samuel Rogers, the banker poet, was also a book-collector, but not in
the sense of one who aims at number. His house at 22, St. James's Place,
overlooking Green Park, was for over half a century--he had removed
here from the Temple about 1803--one of the most celebrated
meeting-places of literature and art in London. Byron, in his 'Diary,'
says, 'If you enter his house--his drawing-room, his library--you of
yourself say, This is not the dwelling of a common mind. There is not a
gem, a coin, a book, thrown aside on his chimney-piece, his sofa, his
table, that does not bespeak an almost fastidious elegance in the
possessor.' A writer in the _Athenæum_ of December 29, 1855, a few days
after the poet's death, describes the library as 'lined with bookcases
surmounted by Greek vases, each one remarkable for its exquisite beauty
of form. Upon the gilt lattice-work of the bookcases are lightly hung in
frames some of the finest original sketches by Raphael, Michelangelo,
and Andrea del Sarto; and finished paintings by Angelico da Fiesole, and
Fouquet of Tours.' Among the treasures of the library were the MSS. of
Gray, in their perfect calligraphy, and the famous agreement between
Milton and the publisher Simmonds, for the copyright of 'Paradise Lost.'
[Illustration: _Samuel Rogers's House in St. James's Place._]
[Illustration: Sam{l} Rogers]
Tom Moore the poet, and his friend and fellow-countryman, Thomas
Crofton Croker, were both book-collectors. The library of the former
was, in 1855, presented by his widow to the Royal Irish Academy, 'as a
memorial of her husband's taste and erudition.' Croker's books, which
were dispersed after his death, contain an exceedingly curious
book-plate, either indicating the possessor's residence, 'Rosamond's
Bower, Fulham,' or '3, Gloucester Road, Old Brompton,' the various
learned societies to which he belonged, with the additional information
that he was founder and president (1828-1848) of the Society of
Novimagus. Charles Dickens, Thackeray, W. Harrison Ainsworth (the
collection of the last was sold at Sotheby's in 1882, and realized £469
19s. 6d.), and Charles Lever were not book-collectors in the usual sense
of the word.
[Illustration: _Alexander Dyce, Book-collector._]
Among the more notable literary men who were also book-collectors of
this period, whose libraries are still preserved intact, are Alexander
Dyce and John Forster. Their collections, now at South Kensington, are
perhaps more particularly notable for the extraordinary number of books
which were once the property of famous men. Mr. Dyce, who was born in
Edinburgh, June, 1798, and died in 1869, bequeathed to the Museum 14,000
books, whilst the library of his friend and executor, John Forster
(1812-1876), contained upwards of 18,000 books, in addition to a number
of autographs, pictures, etc. The more interesting books of a 'personal'
nature in these two libraries are the following: Drayton's 'Battaile of
Agincourt,' 1627, a presentation copy to Sir Henry Willoughby, with
inscription in Drayton's autograph; a French cookery-book, with Gray's
autograph on the title; Ben Jonson's copy (with his autograph) of the
first collected edition of Marston's plays, 1633; a copy of Steele's
'Christian Hero,' with some verses in his autograph addressed to Dr.
Ellis, Head-master of the Charterhouse when Steele was at school.
Sheridan's plays include a presentation copy of 'The Rivals,' with an
inscription to David Garrick. The foregoing are all in the Dyce
Collection.
[Illustration: Ben: Jonson]
[Illustration:
To
My Lord Tutour D{r}. Ellis
With Secret impulse thus do Streams return
To that Capacious Ocean whence they're born:
Oh Would but Fortune come w{th}. bounty fraught
Proportion'd to y{e} mind w{ch}. thou hast taught!
Till then let these unpolish'd leaves impart
The Humble Offering of a Gratefull Heart
Rich{d}. Steele]
[Illustration: David Garrick Esq{r}.
From The Author.]
That of John Forster includes a copy of Addison's 'Travels in Italy,'
with an autograph inscription by the author: 'To Dr. Jonathan Swift, the
most Agreeable Companion, the Truest Friend, and the Greatest Genius of
his age, this Book is presented by his most Humble Servant the Author.'
Among the many books on America, there is one with John Locke's
autograph. The copy of the fourth edition of Byron's 'English Bards and
Scotch Reviewers,' 1811, is that which was given by the author to Leigh
Hunt, and contains the poet's autograph and many corrections; a
presentation copy of Flatman's 'Poems and Songs,' 1682, to Izaak Walton,
who has inscribed his autograph in it; Gay's copy of Horace; some
proof-sheets of Johnson's 'Lives of the Poets;' a copy of Keats's
'Lamia,' 1820, with an autograph inscription and a sonnet 'On the
Grasshopper and the Cricket,' also in the poet's handwriting; Gray's
copy of Locke's 'Essay concerning Human Understanding,' a copy of the
'Dunciad,' 1729, with the inscription 'Jonath: Swift, 1729, amicissimi
autoris donum'; and Isaac Newton's copy of Wheare's 'Method and Order of
Reading Histories,' 1685.
[Illustration: John Locke]
[Illustration:
Izaak Walton July 3{o}
1682 given me, by
the author.]
[Illustration: E Libris I. Newton.]
Apropos of books of distinguished ownership, the collecting of them
sometimes takes an eccentric turn; for example, the third Lord Holland
brought together all the various copies (now at Holland House) upon
which he could lay hands of Fox's 'History of the Reign of James II.,'
which belonged to distinguished people, and amongst these former owners
were Sir James Mackintosh, Sir Philip Francis, C. E. Jerningham, Rogers,
and General Fitzpatrick; and as many of the copies contained MS. notes,
the interest of the collection will be readily understood.
A brief review of the principal book-collectors whose libraries--formed
for the most part by men who lived in London--have been dispersed during
the past dozen years will not be without interest; those which have been
already referred to are, of course, omitted here. James Comerford,
F.S.A., by profession a notary public, who inherited from his father a
love of books, and also a considerable collection, had an exceedingly
fine library, which consisted for the most part of topographical works,
many of them on large paper with proof-plates. He was in his
seventy-sixth year when he died, and his books, which were sold at
Sotheby's in November, 1882 (thirteen days), realized a total of £8,327
13s. Frederic Ouvry, who died in June, 1881, was partner in the firm of
Farrer, Ouvry, and Co., of Lincoln's Inn; he was elected a Fellow of the
Society of Antiquaries in 1848, and for twenty years was the society's
treasurer, and succeeded Earl Stanhope as president. He was a man of
considerable means, and formed one of the most interesting and most
choice of modern libraries. Many of his books fetched far higher sums
than he had paid for them; for example, Drummond of Hawthornden's 'Forth
Fasting,' 1617, cost him in 1858 £8 15s.--at his sale it fetched £60;
and Lodge's 'Rosalynd,' 1598, advanced from £5 10s. to £63. Mr. Ouvry
was an intimate friend of both Mr. Gladstone and Charles Dickens; a copy
of the former's 'Gleanings of Past Years' was a presentation one from
the author, and had the following inscription, 'Frederic Ouvry, Esq.,
from W. E. G., in memory of the work we have done together for fourteen
years in full harmony of thought and act.' There were 177 autograph
letters from Dickens, which sold for £150. The four folio Shakespeares
sold for £420, £46, £116, £28; a copy of the first edition of Spenser's
'Faërie Queene,' 1590-96, £33; a copy of Daniel's 'Delia,' 1592, with
corrections, supposed to be by the author, £88. The total of the six
days' sale was £6,169 2s.
A very remarkable library came under the hammer at Sotheby's on March
21-25, 1884, when the unique collection of the late Francis Bedford, the
eminent binder, was sold. The beauty of the bindings was naturally the
most striking feature of the library, but there were many books which
were rare or historically interesting apart from their coverings. For
example, there was the identical Prayer-Book that was found in the
pocket of Charles I. immediately after his execution; a copy of the
Breeches Bible printed in Scotland, 1579; one of the Pearl Bible, 1653;
a very fine copy of the 'Chronicon Nurembergense,' 1493. Bedford's own
_chef d'oeuvre_, a magnificent copy of Rogers' 'Italy' and 'Poems,' in
olive morocco, super extra, realized
Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/22607