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!