Chapter 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.

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.'

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.

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.

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.'

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.'

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.