The _Handbook_ of 1867 and Its Fruits--Mr Henry Huth--His Beneficial
Influence on My Bibliographical Labours--He invites Me to co-operate
in the Formation of His Library--I edit Books for Him--He declines to
entertain the Notion of a Librarian--My Advantages and Risks--A Few
Heavy Plunges--A _Barnaby's Journal_--A _Book of Hours of the
Virgin_--The Butler MSS.--Archbishop Laud--Montaigne--Mr Huth
answerable for My Conversion into a Speculator--The Immense Value of
the Departure to My Progress as a Bibliographer--A Caxton from the
Country--Why I had to pay so Much for It--Mr Huth's Preferences--His
_Americana_--Deficiencies of His Library gradually supplied--His
Dramatic Series--Beaumont and Fletcher and Ben Jonson--Mr Huth a
Linguist and a Scholar--His First Important Purchase--Contrasted with
Heber--The Drawer at Mr Quaritch's kept for Mr Huth--His Uncertainty
or Caprice explained by Himself--His Failing Health becomes an
Obstacle--The Fancy a Personal One.
The appearance of the _Handbook_ introduced me to the late Mr Henry Huth,
and gave me the free range for years of his fine library, with the
incidental advantage of assisting in its enlargement, and in the
preparation of the catalogue. I had written to Mr Huth in the winter of
1866, soliciting the title and collation of a unique book in his hands,
and he wrote back, furnishing the information not quite correctly, but
stating that he was always, when in town, at home on Sunday afternoons.
This slight incident produced a ten years' intimacy, and was instrumental
in inaugurating a new era in my bibliographical career.
It was when I had reached the letter K in the alphabet that I added Mr
Huth to my acquaintance, and thenceforward my book, as it appeared in
parts, reflected in its pages the beneficial fruit of weekly visits to
that gentleman's house, and his friendly co-operation in an enterprise
which more or less interested him personally.
Our constant intercourse and my widening knowledge of certain classes of
books, for which we had a common liking, naturally led to Mr Huth, in the
most delicate manner, suggesting after a while, that he should be obliged
if I would let him hear of any with which I might meet; and during many
years I was in the habit of sending to him single volumes or parcels which
fell in my way, and which he had the option of rejecting if he did not
care for them, or they happened to be duplicates. I very soon, too,
persuaded him to allow me to carry out small literary undertakings for
him, for the sake of distributing the very limited number of copies
printed among his friends and my own. I became sensible of the
inconvenience and awkwardness attendant on the completion of his library,
as it involved commercial relations distasteful to us both, and I
ventured, as soon as I could, to propose to him a yearly allowance for my
help and advice. This idea he was unwilling to entertain, however, because
he thought that it would involve something like my domestication on the
premises, and the library, as usual, was almost personal to himself. I
therefore most reluctantly continued to add to his collection on my own
terms, and, with the books which I edited for him and for the publishers,
and the general exercise of my bibliographical experience elsewhere, I was
in a position to develop by steady degrees my large, yet still rather
loosely-defined, project for a general catalogue of early English
literature.
My _Handbook_ was brought to an end in 1867, about a twelvemonth
subsequent to the fortuitous meeting with Mr Huth. But every day, when the
more powerful motive for book-hunting existed, seemed to do its part in
opening my eyes to the illimitable magnitude of the field on which I had
entered, and in compelling me to pass my pen through some article which I
had been tempted to borrow from a secondary authority. In other words, the
_Handbook_ was no sooner bound, than I began to convert a considerable
proportion of it into waste-paper.
My relations with Mr Huth were, on the whole, as agreeable as they were
advantageous. Many and many a rarity in his catalogue passed through my
hands, and even when he acquired books elsewhere, he grew into the habit
of asking me to go and look through them before they were sent home. My
improving familiarity with his tastes and wants placed me in a favoured
position, when I stumbled on items in the book-shops and the sale-rooms.
Sometimes I had to incur rather formidable risks, and to buy for the
library very expensive works, subject to them being approved, and merely
on the certainty that they were not duplicates, and were clear
_desiderata_. Such was the case with the extraordinary copy of George
Turbervile's _Poems_, 1570, in the original sheep binding, as clean and
spotless as when it left the first vendor three centuries prior, and
nearly the only one known. John Pearson, of York street, Covent Garden,
had obtained it of a retired dealer at Shrewsbury for £30, and he asked me
£105, with the proviso that it was not returnable as imperfect. I collated
it on the spot, and F. S. Ellis very kindly and liberally lent me the
money to pay for it. Luckily Mr Huth took to it, and gave me fifty guineas
for my trouble. It is one of the chief Elizabethan gems in a library
abounding in them.
I remember being in Boone's shop, in Bond Street, one day, and seeing
there a marvellous and matchless copy of Brathwaite's _Barnaby's Journal_,
almost uncut, and beautifully bound in red morocco. Boone demanded £18,
18s. for it. I put it in my pocket. The following Sunday I saw Mr Huth,
and inquired what sort of a copy of Barnaby he had. He replied that his
was as good an one as could be desired, and he opened the case where it
lay, and handed it to me. I took mine out, and handed it to him. He
smiled. Of course, there was no comparison. His went as a duplicate to
Lilly. He did not judge Boone's dear at twenty-five guineas; it would
bring twice that sum now.
I was so much accustomed to frequent the booksellers, and I was so well
known and trusted that I overlooked the circumstance, in my earlier
visits to Bond Street, that I had not dealt quite so regularly or largely
there as elsewhere, and one day when Boone shewed me a fine _Book of
Hours_, of which the price was £150, I coolly placed it under my arm, and
walked out of the place, with an intimation that I should like to have it.
I suppose that the firm was reassured when I called, a day or so after,
and gave them my cheque for the amount. We became very good friends, and I
took several things off Boone's hands for Mr Huth. The _Hours_ I have just
mentioned was bound in old velvet; and the owner rather unwisely, as I
thought, let Bedford give it a new morocco livery.
One offer on the part of this house to me I was unable to entertain--the
Butler MSS. formerly in the hands of the poet's editor, Thyer, and
containing matter not printed by him. Boone spoke of £250; but I declined.
What became of them, I never heard; they were not sold with his stock.
His retirement destroyed a link between the old school and the new. He had
many curious stories to relate about those whom his uncle and himself had
known--about Libri and Dibdin. He (the younger B.) was fairly shrewd and
experienced, but thoroughly straightforward. I recollect picking off his
shelf one morning an old tract of no particular value, but, as it
happened, not in the British Museum, to which I transferred it, bearing on
the title the unrecognised autograph, _W. Bathon_; it was the copy which
belonged to Archbishop Laud, when he occupied the See of Bath and Wells.
There was a somewhat parallel incident at the sale of Lord Selsey's books
at Sotheby's in 1871. I took down from a shelf at random an old Italian
book, and perceived at the foot of the title the signature of Montaigne
the essayist. I instantaneously closed it, and put it back, for I saw Mr
Toovey approach. I waited to see it sold; it fell to me at 2s. F. S. Ellis
came into the room a moment after, and heard of the find. He explained to
me that he had a Montaigne client, and wished me to let him have my
bargain, which I surrendered for a consideration.
I consider Mr Huth answerable for my conversion from a pure amateur into a
commercial speculator in books. He was the prime mover in producing the
change in my views and arrangements--one which certainly responded to my
convenience in working out my great project as a bibliographer, by
supplying me in the interval, where the direct practical result was _nil_,
with ways and means, rather than to my natural feeling, which would have
kept me outside the market as a buyer and seller. My unconquerable and
boundless ambition to become the creator of an entirely new
bibliographical system, so far as the early literature of Great Britain
and Ireland was concerned, reconciled me, to some extent, to the
unwelcome, though profitable, labour of utilising for my own purposes the
stores which I accumulated and distributed from year to year, commencing
with that which immediately succeeded my introduction to Mr Huth.
I had already fulfilled that gentleman's own express desire, that I should
co-operate in the extension of his library in the direction which I was
beginning to study in earnest; but my first notable achievement was a
purchase which found another destination. Jeffreys of Bristol sent me up,
in the winter of 1868, a beautiful copy of Caxton's _Golden Legend_,
wanting sixteen leaves, which were supplied from one by Wynkyn de Worde.
It was an edition of which the Althorp copy was the only perfect one
known. The owner asked £85. I hardly understood why he sent it to me, as
I had never had any transaction with him. It was on a Friday. I called at
B. M. Pickering's the next morning, and casually stated that I had had
such a book offered to me, and that I intended, on the Sunday, to name the
matter to Mr Huth, who did not then possess the volume. Pickering begged
to see it first; he came down to my house the same evening, and took it
away under his arm at £150. If it had not been for John Pearson persuading
Jeffrey to raise his price, I should have had it £40 cheaper. Mr Huth
subsequently procured another imperfect copy, and at my request Lord
Spencer very kindly forwarded his own to London to enable a facsimilist to
complete both.
Mr Huth had some very strong preferences--favourite authors and topics.
Anything by Wither or Quarles, with curious woodcuts, on an educational
theme, or in exceptionally fine state, was sure game. He did not care for
theology, unless it was by such a man as Fuller or Jeremy Taylor; and of
folios he was shy, in the absence of a valid reason; there were so many
which it was imperative to tolerate, commencing with the four Shakespears.
To _Americana_ he became at last a convert, but I knew him when he put
the question--a pertinent question, too--what he had to do with that sort
of book? Henry Stevens, however, and then others, made the interest
clearer to him, and he gave way till, in the end, he was master of a
fairly good collection, including such capital features as Hariot's
_Virginia_, 1588, and such unique _morçeaux_ as Rich's _News from
Virginia_, 1610. I was fortunate enough to enter on the scene, when in
numerous respects his shelves were very deficient, and when some of the
leading poets of the seventeenth century were conspicuous by their
absence. He had not, at the time I refer to, even Beaumont and Fletcher,
or Jonson, or Carew, or Lovelace, by way of example. As I run through his
catalogue, I notice hundreds and hundreds of volumes which he had been
quietly and patiently waiting to receive from someone, as he never went in
quest of anything in his life, beyond calling at Lilly's, Ellis's, or
Quaritch's, on his way home; and nearly all his dramatic acquisitions,
except the quarto Shakespears and other rarities from the Daniel and
Charlemont sales in 1864-5, were late additions, obtained for him by
myself, as scarcely a second individual would have dreamed of him not
having them, or being willing to take them. All his Shirleys, Massingers,
Fords, and the rest, came to him at prices which, compared with current
figures, make them appear almost nominal. Massinger's _Virgin Martyr_,
1622, cost him most; for B. M. Pickering charged me £7, 7s. for the copy,
and I have not met with another since that time.
His Beaumont and Fletcher, 1647, which has been lately trotted up to a
startling figure by the Americans, cost me 30s. and is one of the finest I
ever saw; one leaf was torn, and a second copy was bought for £1 to make
the defect good. In the same way his Ben Jonson, 1616-31, the most
complete one in existence, with a duplicate title and a cancel leaf, was
obtained from Stibbs for 36s. It had been Colonel Cunningham's, and was
spotless in the original calf binding.
Mr Huth was not a Heber; but he liked to look into his books, and of many
he had a fair knowledge. He was a linguist and a scholar, and was led by
the circumstances of his origin (his father being a German and his mother
a Spaniard) to contract a partiality for the literature of those two
countries. The ancient Spanish romance, the early German book with
woodcuts, were well represented. One of the former, in its pristine
stamped livery, was among his earliest purchases, when he frequented Payne
& Foss's establishment with his brother Louis, just toward the close of
the career of that distinguished firm, which supplied Heber and his
contemporaries--Grenville, Hibbert, the Freelings, and others--and the
price was £8. It might at present be £80, if Mr Quaritch were in the right
cue.
Although Mr Huth cannot be said to have been a mere amasser of old books,
without an interest in their characteristics and literary value, it is
curious that he never, so far as I am aware, inserted a MS. note of any
kind in a volume, or his autograph, or a bookplate or _ex libris_. He
seemed to shrink from asserting his personality in these respects, and was
so far the reverse of Heber, whose memoranda accompanied thousands of the
items in his immense library, and manifested his earnestness and
indefatigability in obtaining and perpetuating information--nothing else.
Of conceit or pedantry no one ever had less.
Toward the last, while the catalogue was in course of preparation by Mr
F. S. Ellis and myself, an unpleasant _contretemps_ produced a coolness
between Mr Huth and the writer, and I saw nothing farther of him, although
we occasionally corresponded down to the period of his death in 1878, the
melancholy circumstances of which I have narrated in my _Four Generations
of a Literary Family_. He made additions to his library rather languidly
in later years; but he bought here and there to fill up gaps or otherwise,
and some of the entries belonging to the earlier letters of the alphabet
form an appendix to the above-mentioned work. There used to be a little
drawer at Quaritch's, where any book thought to be acceptable to Mr Huth
was deposited day by day against his arrival about five in the afternoon.
Once it was an unique tract of _King Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of
Tamworth_, for which he was asked £16, 16s., and he held it up between two
fingers, and exhibited it to an acquaintance with him as rather a dear
pennyworth. But he took it, and at the same time he rejected an equally
unique and far more curious metrical account of the martyrdom of two
churchmen in the time of Henry VIII., which the British Museum was glad
enough to secure. As he has said to me frankly enough, it was a toss up,
whether he bought or did not buy; of course it was a mere fancy, and it is
only a piece of history at present that one or two of the booksellers,
acquainted with his peculiarity, passed on volumes now and then from one
to the other, and what had not pleased in King Street, caught the fish in
Garrick Street at an advanced quotation.
Mr Huth was not only vacillating in his pursuit of books, and so missed
many which he ought to have secured, but his health began to fail some
time prior to his decease, and he was either abroad or in a frame of mind
unequal to the discussion of literary questions and the transaction of
unnecessary business. His library, as it appears from the printed
catalogue, is a very different monument from that which he might have
left, had he been more consistent or been more willing to repose
confidence in others. The precious volumes, which went elsewhere through
his periodical apathy or indisposition, are barely numerable, and it was
the more to be regretted, since the outlay was immaterial and the grand
_nucleus_ was there.
I suspect that the cause of wavering was one which is common to so many
collectors in all departments, and leads in a majority of instances to
the abrupt dispersion of the property. I allude to the almost ostentatious
indifference of relatives and friends to the treasures, unless, perhaps,
they are pictures or china, which a man gathers round him. In this
instance £120,000 had been expended in books, MSS., drawings and prints,
and the worthy folks who came to the house, what did they know about them?
what did they care? A man might well hesitate and wonder whether there was
any good in persevering with a hobby personal to himself.
I do not know whether Mr Huth suspected me of extravagance in the purchase
of curiosities, but I remember that he one day, at Prince's Gate, when we
were together, rather gravely, yet with his usual gentleness, observed
that it was very important to husband one's resources--to use his own
phrase. He entered more with me than with any other stranger into trivial
and ordinary matters; and apropos of expenditure I recall his allusion to
the habit of some of his clerks in the city laying out a larger sum on
their luncheons than he did. Possibly they went home, not to dinner, but
to tea. I have mentioned in _Four Generations of a Literary Family_
farther particulars of Mr Huth, which I of course do not here reproduce.
I recollect being at Prince's Gate one Sunday, when Professor ---- called,
and began to eulogise the palatial residence, the splendid book-room, the
noble cases, and so forth; and I at once saw that he was making our host
rather uncomfortable by his _gaucherie_. On some pretext I induced the
Professor to accompany me, when I took my leave, and I am sure that Mr
Huth was grateful. I do not know that I grudged Huth anything, for he was
worthy of his fortune. Perhaps I was a little envious of his knowledge of
the notes of birds, which he told me that he possessed, and of which I
have the most imperfect and inaccurate idea. I judge that he was reticent
even to his family about his affairs, for, after his sudden death, his
widow, to whom he left everything, found to her surprise, I was told, that
there was more even than she had expected. So that he had acted up to his
own maxim. A man may be frugal with £100,000 a year as he may be with the
thousandth part of it--more so indeed, as there is a so much wider
margin.