to say I have a beautiful copy which contains, unmutilated, the account
of the murder of Thomas A. Becket, as a friend of mine once wrote it,
which has been entirely deleted from most copies.
[Illustration:
BIBLIA
SACRA
CUM PROLOCIS
S. HIERONIMI
PRESBYTERI
SPECIAL DEDICATION PAGE TO SIXTUS IV, OF JENSON’S BIBLE, VENICE, 1479]
[Illustration: WOODCUT, “JUDITH AND HOLOFERNES,” FROM CAXTON’S “GOLDEN
LEGEND,” 1483]
Of course almost everyone knows that the first complete Bible in the
English language was the work of Miles Coverdale. He finished his
translation in 1535, and it was printed that same year at Zurich.
Although as a work of scholarship it may not rank particularly
high,--it is “translated out of Douche and Latyn,” according to the
title,--you will find many of Coverdale’s memorable and sonorous
phrases preserved in the authorized version in use to-day.
Ten years previous to the appearance of Miles Coverdale’s work, a
contemporary of his, William Tyndale, had made a valiant effort to
translate and have printed certain portions of the Bible. Perhaps he
was inspired by some spiritual force within himself; at any rate he
believed he could best serve his fellow countrymen by translating the
New Testament into their language. His ambition grew when one day in
heated dispute with an eminent churchman of England he was appalled
at that worthy’s ignorance of the Scriptures. His vow, made then and
there, has triumphantly echoed in the ears of all theological students
ever since. “If God spare my life,” said Tyndale, “ere many years I
will cause a boy that driveth his plough to know more of the Scriptures
than thou dost.”
But Tyndale’s radical project naturally needed strong financial and
political backing. He went to London, where he believed he had a
powerful ally in his friend, Bishop Cuthbert Tunstall. In this he soon
found he was mistaken; nor could he find any patron with a sympathetic
ear and a sympathetic purse as well. This circumstance was not strange,
however, because it was just about this time that the powerful Cardinal
Wolsey began to lay plans to prevent the “invasion of England by the
Word of God.” Discouraged, Tyndale decided there was little hope of
accomplishing his work in his own land, and made up his mind to try his
luck abroad, even though it meant exile.
In Hamburg, Tyndale completed his translation of the New Testament
into English from the original Greek. He went on to Cologne, where he
hoped to find a printer. It is believed that work on the book was then
really started, but that the Senate of Cologne grew suddenly enraged
and shocked at the thought of so profane a business going on within its
gates. An order was issued to Peter Quentel, the printer, to prohibit
its continuance, but before it could be carried out Tyndale had fled in
panic to Worms. He took with him his beloved translation, and perhaps
certain pages of the printed work as well. In Worms, Luther was then
at the very height of his popularity. This must have been a relief to
Tyndale, to find himself in a place where he would have to undergo no
further religious persecution. And so the New Testament was printed for
the first time in English in a little German city.
Tyndale’s followers doubtless smuggled it into the home country,
because almost immediately this New Testament began to appear in
England. It filled the clergy with fury, and Bishop Tunstall, Tyndale’s
former friend, even went so far as to have it burned publicly at St.
Paul’s Cross in London. It was destroyed in other places as well,
before gatherings of ignorant, superstitious, and infuriated people.
Indeed, the public burning by the churchmen of Tyndale’s New Testament
became a popular if serious pastime. And the destruction of Tyndale’s
precious books was a prophetic prelude to his own martyrdom at the
stake a few years later.
All the earliest English Bibles are extraordinarily rare and worth
almost any amount. It is strange to speak of money in connection
with the greatest spiritual work of all time, but as Bibles are the
cornerstones of any outstanding collection it follows that they must be
bought at a price.
Only a fragment exists of the first edition of Tyndale’s translation of
the New Testament, from the press of Peter Quentel in Cologne, in 1525.
The second edition, printed also on the Continent, by Peter Schöffer
at Worms, probably late in 1525, is almost equally rare, as only two
imperfect copies survive. I would cheerfully give more than $50,000 for
a copy of the first appearance in print of this portion of the English
Scriptures. Perhaps some book scout will eventually unearth another. Of
the Tyndale Pentateuch, probably printed at Malborow by Hans Lufft in
1530, only three perfect copies have resisted the sharp usages of time.
The finest of these is in the Pierpont Morgan Library.
As to the first complete Bible in the English language, translated by
Coverdale and printed in 1535, not a single absolutely perfect copy
exists. There are two or three almost perfect examples in England,
none so good in America. There are, however, copies of this book,
more or less defective, in libraries in this country, such as in the
collections of Pierpont Morgan and Henry E. Huntington, the New York
Public Library, the Free Library of Philadelphia, Carl H. Pforzheimer,
and A. Edward Newton. This great volume is not of excessive rarity, but
of excessive importance. I would risk my chances in this world and the
next to obtain a perfect copy.
Of the so-called Great Bible, seven editions were issued within two
years, 1539-41. They are all valuable, but not nearly so much so as the
earlier English Bibles. Splendid examples of printing, they are much in
demand by collectors, especially when perfect.
One of the great monuments of our civilization, the first edition of
the Authorized Version, printed in London by Robert Barker in 1611, is
in every respect one of the finest things a collector can ever hope
to acquire. The influence of this Book upon the world has been simply
enormous. There were two editions in 1611, known as the He and She
Bible, the He (quite naturally!) being the earlier and more in demand.
No stones, fair ladies! The distinction comes from a variant reading
in the Book of Ruth, iii, 15. In the first version it reads “He went
into the citie,” in the second, the later printing, “She went into the
citie.” This change of a single letter makes all the difference in
the world to the collector, and he has to pay for it. The first issue
is worth several thousands more than the second. This is a rare and
momentous thing, a perfect He bringing more than a perfect She! It can
only occur in the case of the Bible. I am quite sure that in this even
clergymen will agree with me.
The price of the first edition of the Authorized, or King James,
Bible, has not been large in the past. The Huth copy sold at auction in
1911 for only £164, or about $820, but the future, I feel sure, will
tell another story. Indeed, I think the time when the collector will
give $8000 or $10,000 for a really fine copy is hovering dangerously
near. It is truly a volume so dear and precious to everyone that it
must soon take its place among the stars.
I remember one day when I was visiting the late J. P. Morgan many years
ago. We sat and talked in his office in the old building at the corner
of Wall and Broad streets, which in those ancient days bore the sign,
Drexel, Morgan, and Company. Of course, we vied with each other in a
genial way, relating stories of our quests in discovering rare books,
of purchases we had made at what we considered the proper prices then,
and in general confiding to each other those tales of adventure so dear
to the heart of the bookman. We talked about old Bibles, especially
those which had belonged to celebrated people. Of these Mr. Morgan
already had a remarkable collection. His nephew, Mr. Junius Spencer
Morgan, had from the first been a great help to his uncle, with his
genuine flair for really fine books and works of art generally, and his
uncle often took his advice. The elder Mr. Morgan was a man of great
imagination, who enjoyed book collecting as much as anyone I have ever
known. Suddenly, during our conversation, his face clouded, and he
turned to me and said in a regretful tone, “Doctor, there is one Bible
I have missed. The last time I was in London, Quaritch told me about
it. He sold it, he said, on his first trip to this country in 1890. It
is the great He issue of 1611, and is enriched with the annotations of
the translators of the King James version. The explanations of the Holy
Text were probably made for the use of Prince Henry. What would I give
to have it!”
Now I knew of this Bible, but hadn’t the faintest idea at the moment
where it was or who owned it. It had been extended to five volumes and
bore on the binding the feathers of the young Prince of Wales. But when
I secured the library of Clarence S. Bement, one year later, there
it was. What luck! Mr. Morgan, it is unnecessary to state, bought it
immediately.
Among the hundreds of Bibles offered to me each year there is one type
which blooms eternal. It is the bullet-hole Bible: the Bible which
saved grandpa’s life in the Civil War, or the Revolution--as you will.
For a time I was shown such a succession of these that my very dreams
were haunted by them. Many a night my rest would be broken when whole
armies charged me, each soldier wearing a protecting copy of the Holy
Scriptures over his heart.
Some people have fondly believed that a tale of sentiment, plus a dash
of bravery, mixed with their own simulated reverence, would bring value
to the family Bible. The bullet-hole Bible has become such an old story
that every time I hear a shot I think it is someone aiming at the old
family Scriptures in the back yard.
But this is nothing to the Genevan, or Breeches, Bible, the commonest
of all. It is so named because of the seventh verse in the third
chapter of Genesis:--
Then the eyes of them bothe were opened & they knewe that they were
naked; and they sewed figtre leaves together, and made themselves
breeches.
The first edition was printed at Geneva in 1560 and copies in good
condition are scarce and valuable. In fact, they are really worth more
than the price they sell for to-day. It was for years the household
Bible of the English race. Although translated by the English exiles
at Geneva during Queen Mary’s reign, it was dedicated “To the Moste
Vertuous and Noble Quene Elisabet, Quene of England, France, and
Ireland.”
At least two hundred editions of the Bible and New Testament were
issued before 1630, consequently for centuries it was in almost every
home. The later editions of this Bible have therefore become the
_bête noir_ of every bookseller. They turn up everywhere, their proud
possessors asking fortunes for copies hardly worth the value of old
paper. The copies published after 1600 are the worst offenders. It is
a pity, for the peace of mind of the booksellers, that they were not
all destroyed in the Great Fire of London. They still exist to torment
the souls of bookmen, and although the language of the Genevan Bible
has always been considered good, homely English, the language of the
biblio-fiend, when he receives one on approval, with charges collect,
is certainly more vigorous and expressive.
Not long ago a woman came to my Philadelphia library with a Breeches
Bible. True, it was rather ancient, authentically dated 1629. From the
moment I met her I realized she suffered from suppressed emotions
of some sort. Although I am accustomed to prospective sellers with
queer symptoms, I was rather alarmed. Her hands shook violently,
she was deadly white one moment and a flaming pink the next. When I
inquired what she wanted for her Bible she replied in quick, nervous
tones, “Fifty thousand dollars!” Now I am always amazed at these grand
ideas of value evinced by the layman. I hope I do not always show my
surprise. Indeed, some people accuse me of having a poker face. This
Bible was certainly worth no more than twenty dollars. But before I
apprised her of the distressing news, which I always hate to impart, I
was cautious enough to call in one of my assistants to aid me should
she collapse on my hands.
It is to the eternal credit of bookmen that the sense of humor has
been the ruling passion with them all. They all see the joyous, the
fantastic, the capricious side. They are never _sérieux_, never unduly
bowed down with the gravity of their calling. Although they are
ardent, nay, passionate lovers, they always remain gay and debonair.
The history of old Bibles bears eloquent witness on this point. Why
do Bug Bibles, Vinegar Bibles, Wicked Bibles, tickle the fantasy of
collectors? For instance, Matthew’s Bible of 1551 contains the reading
in Psalm xci, 5: “So that thou shalt not nede to be afraid for any
bugges by nighte, nor for the arrow that flyeth by day.” Or think how
the Christian world would have been disrupted if it had followed the
Commandments of the 1631 Bible, which leaves out entirely the “not”
in the Seventh. This terrible, wicked book reads: “Thou shalt commit
adultery.” Only four copies escaped the public executioner, and the
poor printer was fined £300 by Archbishop Laud.
Baskett’s Oxford Bible of 1717 is a mine of magnificent errors, the
most amusing being that of “the parable of the vinegar,” instead of
“vineyard.”
There are three tremendously important American Bibles: the Eliot
Indian Bible, the Saur, and the Aitken Bible. John Eliot, Apostle
to the Indians, translated the Bible into their language and had it
printed in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1661-63. Thus the first Bible
issued on this continent was, appropriately, in the tongue of its
natives. And the second was in German, the first in a European language
printed in America, from the press of Christopher Saur, at Germantown,
Pennsylvania, in 1743. The third, at last in English, was printed in
1782 by R. Aitken “at Pope’s Head, three doors above the Coffee House,
in Market Street,” Philadelphia. The great demand for early Americana
will surely raise these three treasures to heights at present undreamed
of in the bookman’s philosophy.
VIII
WHY AMERICA BUYS ENGLAND’S BOOKS
During my frequent visits to England I have often been asked why
Americans are so persistent, even voracious, in acquiring the great
literary treasures of Great Britain. I have been accused in its public
prints of being the greatest offender. I have been likened unto the
ogre of ancient times. Perhaps it is pertinent, therefore, to know the
reason why Americans are so anxious to obtain, at almost any price, not
only the choicest English books and manuscripts, but the outstanding
contemporary documents that chronicle so faithfully and so inexorably
the political and literary history of England.
According to some of the English newspapers that bewail the loss to
England of her great monuments of the past, it is a new thing, this
interest in things English on the part of the American public. On the
contrary, it has been going on, increasing in volume, it is true,
from about the year 1840. Before the Civil War those two farsighted
collectors, John Carter Brown of Providence, Rhode Island, and James
Lenox of New York, were scouring England for volumes relating to the
early history of this country, and incidentally gobbling up such
rarities as the first folio of Shakespeare. They were ably assisted in
their raids by an American who had taken up his residence in London,
Henry Stevens of Vermont, the Green Mountain Boy, who, among the
string of titles after his name, included the cryptic letters, BLK BLD,
ATHM CLB, meaning “Blackballed by the Athenæum Club!”
It is extremely gratifying to note the extraordinary love of books
persisting in one American family for almost a century. In England the
Huths and many others have shown the tendency, the collector’s instinct
passed on from father to son for many generations. In this country
it is rare. The remarkable exception, however, is evidenced by the
Browns of Providence. The great library founded by John Carter Brown,
with its glittering array of superb volumes--among the finest in the
world--bears eloquent testimony to a continual devotion to books and
learning. The family of the original founder has never for a moment
flagged in its interest, and the volumes added to the collection since
its establishment bear silent witness, unequaled in America, of a
loving regard for books.
In 1847, James Lenox brought to this country from England the first
Gutenberg Bible. The earliest first folio of Shakespeare in America was
purchased in London about 1836. Since then they have flowed to us in a
constant and ever widening stream, until to-day there are far more of
them in the United States than in the British Empire.
England need not complain, however, or consider it such a serious loss,
as some of her statesmen do. She has within her narrow boundaries
superb volumes that America can never hope to possess. The British
Museum and the great libraries of Oxford and Cambridge, to say nothing
of the wonderful Spencer collection, now in the John Rylands Library in
Manchester, are treasure houses that luckily can never be despoiled.
They will be able to resist the American invader and they will remain
always at the service of students and scholars. It is not generally
known that the libraries of England have left no stone unturned to
increase their already stupendous hoards. The British Museum has added
constantly to its collections and to-day it is a greater library, in
many respects, than the Bibliothèque Nationale, which long held the
leadership. I think it is actually the largest and most important
library in the world.
Under the able direction of Mr. Alfred W. Pollard, formerly Keeper of
Printed Books, the British Museum acquired many books and manuscripts
of great intrinsic value, and it is to the extraordinary genius of this
man that the British public owes much. Not only is he a bibliographer
of remarkable ability, but, when in charge of the books, he developed
the rare faculty of finding the very volumes that would complete a
certain series; he was, therefore, ever on the alert to secure for
the Museum the things that were most needed. And this in the face of
American competition! As to the latter, it is worthy of note that the
late J. P. Morgan, and his son as well, in forming their memorable
collection, whenever possible never bid against the Museum. If the
authorities particularly desired a certain manuscript that belonged of
right to the Museum, the Morgans gracefully refrained from bidding.
In fact, Englishmen have always taken a greater pride in their national
library than Americans in theirs. Ever since its foundation, the
British Museum has received important bequests from collectors, such
as the superb gifts of George III and the Honorable Thomas Grenville.
Recently when it was found that there was in the Museum no first folio
containing the portrait of Shakespeare in its first state, several
patriotic and discerning Englishmen secured it for the Nation.
True, a few citizens have made noteworthy gifts to our national library
in Washington, but in the main it has been sadly neglected. Americans
have given wisely and well to their own local foundations, but the
Congressional Library, which should be the pride of every American,
has never received the encouragement it deserves. Dr. Herbert Putnam,
the gifted Librarian of Congress, is making every effort to remedy
this glaring defect in our national armor. The Right Honorable Ramsay
MacDonald told me, during his recent visit to Philadelphia, that an
organized effort was being made by friends of the British Museum to
secure the invaluable things that the Museum required. Why not form a
society of friends of the Library of Congress, in order to purchase for
it, while we have still the opportunity, the many volumes of Americana
and the precious holograph documents that bear directly upon our
country’s history?
[Illustration: “JACK JUGGLER,” 1555--THE ONLY COPY KNOWN]
It is a curious thing that rare books and the precious things of the
collector follow the flow of gold. When the United States became the
great creditor nation, taking the place of England, at least for the
time being, it was but natural that the various objects of art and
interest should gravitate to this side. During the last twenty years
rare books and literary documents have left the shores of Albion at an
alarming rate (for England). Most of them are now in the private and
public libraries of the United States. I should hate to state how much
I assisted in this magic exodus.
England was the great offender in this same sort of thing a century
ago. It is the old threadbare saying, which must have first been
uttered by Methuselah, that history repeats itself. In the eighteenth
century, Italy, France, and Spain were complaining of the raids made
on their artistic resources by Englishmen, as England is complaining
of us to-day. The extraordinary increase in gold in England during
the Napoleonic Wars was responsible for this. It was the era when the
great collectors, Richard Heber, Earl Spencer, the Duke of Roxburghe,
the Duke of Sussex, the Duke of Devonshire, Sir Mark Sykes, and Robert
Stayner Holford were making the Grand Tour and buying in the great
emporiums in Rome and in Florence, in Paris and Madrid, their choicest
objects. It is true that the Grand Tour has been the fashion in England
ever since the days of Chaucer and that great libraries were formed in
the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries, but it was during
the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries that the greatest
collections were made. In those days Sir Richard Wallace could purchase
the finest Watteau in Paris at the price of an etching to-day. The
best eighteenth-century paintings, drawings, bibelots, furniture, so
dear to the heart of Frenchmen, were transferred from the Rue St.
Honoré to Carlton House Terrace, or to grace the drawing-rooms of the
elegant country homes of Great Britain.
The wheel of time, however, turns.
It is really unfortunate for England that she is compelled now to give
up some of her possessions. No nation has a finer appreciation of great
works of the imagination. She receives payment for them, it is true,
but money is a thing that can be had; it passes in cycles from one
nation to another; a rare book or a manuscript, if it once goes into a
public institution, can never be regained. Whether England, to protect
her historical and literary relics, should make laws, as Italy has
done, is no concern of mine. In her wisdom she probably knows the most
expedient procedure. It is an economic as well as cultural question,
and of economics I am glad to say I know absolutely nothing. There are,
however, masters of the subject in Great Britain; they will probably
solve this difficult problem.
The wisest among the collectors in England do not look upon this
exchange as a total loss to England. I shall never forget my last
conversation with the late Sir George Holford in Dorchester House,
London, after I had purchased some of his dearest possessions. He said,
“The world is growing smaller--Englishmen are great travelers; they
can see these very books some day in an American institution far more
readily than in the private collections in England. I know, myself,
how difficult it is to throw open private homes to students. You recall
as well as I do that the finest library of English poetry was never
at the beck and call of students. I am glad that most of it has gone
to America where it will be accessible to scholars of all nations.”
Broadminded men, like that erudite scholar, Lord Crawford, know that
these books will have tender and loving care in America, and that they
will be an inspiration to our students.