III.



Sic transit gloria mundi might well be the motto of a History of Book-Collectors, for in by far the majority of cases great private libraries have been formed in one generation by genuine bookworms, only to be scattered in the next by needy legatees or in consequence of impoverished estates. There can be no doubt that several famous libraries have derived their origin from the mere vanity of emulating a fashionable pursuit. Into this matter, however, it is not necessary for us to enter, except to hazard the suggestion that if the money had not been spent in that direction it would doubtless have been squandered in some less worthy and enduring manner. One of the most interesting and valuable contributions to the history of private collections of the seventeenth century is embedded in the long and entertaining letter which John Evelyn addressed to Mr. Pepys in August, 1689. This letter is so accessible that it may seem superfluous to quote any part of it; but a few of the leading points are necessary to the proper sequence of our story. 'The Bishop of Ely has a very well-stored library, but the very best is what Dr. Stillingfleet has at Twickenham, ten miles out of town. . . . Our famous lawyer, Sir Edward Coke, purchased a very choice library of Greek and other MSS., which were sold him by Dr. Meric Casaubon, son of the learned Isaac; and these, together with his delicious villa, Durdens, came into the possession of the present Earl of Berkeley from his uncle, Sir Robert Cook. . . . I have heard that Sir Henry Savill was master of many precious MSS., and he is frequently celebrated for it by the learned Valesius, almost in every page of that learned man's Annotations on Eusebius, and the Ecclesiastical Historians published by him. The late Mr. Hales, of Eton, had likewise a very good library; and so had Dr. Cosin, late Bishop of Duresme [and afterwards of Durham], a considerable part of which I had agreed with him for myself during his exile abroad, as I can show under his own hand; but his late daughter, since my Lady Garret, thought I had not offered enough, and made difficulty in delivering them to me till near the time of his Majesty's restoration, and after that the Dean, her father, becoming Bishop of that opulent See, bestowed them on the library there. But the Lord Primate Usher was inferior to none I have named among the clergy for rare MSS., a great part of which, being brought out of Ireland, and left his son-in-law, Sir Timothy Tyrill, was disposed of to give bread to that incomparable Prelate during the late fanatic war. Such as remained yet at Dublin were preserved, and by a public purse restored and placed in the college library of that city. . . . I forbear to name the late Earl of Bristol's and his kinsman's, Sir Kenelm Digby's, libraries, of more pompe than intrinsic value, as chiefly consisting of modern poets, romances, chymical, and astrological books. . . . As for those of Sir Kenelm, the catalogue was printed and most of them sold in Paris, as many better have lately been in London. The Duke of Lauderdale's[27:A] is yet entire, choicely bound, and to be sold by a friend of mine, to whom they are pawned; but it comes far short of his relation's, the Lord Maitland's, which was certainly the noblest, most substantial and accomplished library that ever passed under the speare, and heartily it grieved me to behold its limbs, like those of the chaste Hippolytus, separated and torn from that so well chosen and compacted a body. The Earl of Anglesey's, and several others since, by I know not what invidious fate, passed the same fortune, to whatever influence and constellation now reigning malevolent to books and libraries, which can portend no good to the future age.'



It is interesting to note that of the several libraries enumerated by Evelyn three have become, partly or wholly, public property. That of Dr. John Moore, Bishop of Ely, was purchased after his death by George I. for L6,000, and presented to the University of Cambridge, where it now is.[27:B] Evelyn himself was, as will have been gathered, an ardent book-collector. He began forming a library very early in life, whilst that of his brother came to him by bequest. At the time of his death he had a very extensive collection of books at Wotton, which has been considerably augmented by his successors. In the early part of the present century William Upcott, of the London Institution, drew up a complete catalogue. Upcott's appearance on the scene synchronized with the disappearance of a number of volumes from the Evelyn Library; it has been suggested that Lady Evelyn presented them to him 'or something of that sort,' although the circumstance has never been officially explained. Certain it is that a large number of books formerly in the possession of the diarist have at times appeared in the auction-room. The most important which occurred during the last few years are two beautifully-written MSS., the work of Richard Hoare, one having the title 'Instructions Oeconomiques,' 1648, with a dedication 'To the present mistress of my youth, the hopeful companion of my riper years, and the future nurse of my old age, Mrs. May Evelyn, my deare wife,' etc. The second was a book of Private Devotions, 1650. Evelyn was also unfortunate in his lifetime, inasmuch as the Duke of Lauderdale 'came to my house, under pretence of a visit,' but in reality to borrow 'for a few days' certain valuable MSS., which this aristocratic thief never returned. So, too, he lent Burnet a quantity of MS. material for his 'History of the Reformation,' which, like other borrowed books, never came back. A large number of first editions of the works of J. Evelyn, together with some books from his library, illustrated with his autograph notes, occurred in the sale of the library of the late Arthur Davis, of Deptford and East Farleigh, July, 1857, many of which were doubtless purloined at some time or other.



Of all the seventeenth-century book-collectors, perhaps the most interesting is that other diarist, Samuel Pepys. Samuel was not a man of great learning, but his wit, his knowledge of the world, and his humanity were unbounded. He welcomed almost anything in the shape of a book, from a roguish French novel to a treatise on medals, from a loose Restoration play to a maritime pamphlet, and from lives of the saints to books on astrology or philosophy. Not a great man, perhaps, but one of the most delightful and entertaining that one could wish. The Secretary's 'Diary' is full of allusions to men and events of bookish interest, and gives frequent illustrations of his amiable passion for book-collecting. Fortunately, we have not to grope in the dark to get an accurate portrait of the genial Samuel as a book-collector, for his entire library is preserved, almost in the same state as he left it, at Magdalen College, Oxford, 'as curious a medley of the grave and gay' as any person of catholic tastes could wish for. The library consists of almost 3,000 volumes, preserved in eleven mahogany bookcases. The books are all arranged in double rows, the small ones in front being sufficiently low to permit of the titles of the back row of larger ones being easily read. The library is a remarkably accurate reflection of the tastes of the founder. In addition to what is termed ordinary useful books, there are many rarities, including no less than nine Caxtons, and several from the press of Wynkyn de Worde and Pynson. The celebrated collection of ballads, commenced by Selden and continued by Pepys, is second only in importance to the famous Roxburghe collection now in the British Museum. The manuscripts of various kinds form a very valuable part of this celebrated collection.



John Bagford, the biblioclast (1675-1716), also finishes us, like Evelyn, with a list of book-collectors who were contemporaneous with him. Besides Bishop Moore, already mentioned, there were Sir Hans Sloane, Lords Carbery (Duke of Kent), Pembroke, Somers, Sunderland, and Halifax. Among the commoners who emulated their 'betters' were Messrs. Huckle, Chichely, Bridges, Walter Clavell, Rawlinson, Slaughter, Topham, Wanley, Captain Hatton, 'Right Hon. Secretary Harley,' and Dr. Salmon, whose collection is said to have consisted of 1,700 folios. Edwards, in his most valuable work on libraries, mentions yet a third list, which is anonymous, and is apparently almost contemporaneous with Bagford's. The list is introduced with the remark that 'the laudable emulation which is daily increasing amongst the nobility of England, vying with each other in the curiosities and other rich furniture of their respective libraries, gives cheerful hope of having the long-hidden monuments of ancient times raised out of their present dust and rubbish,' and then makes special mention of the libraries of the Duke of Kent, Lords Derby, Denbigh, Longueville, Willoughby de Broke, Sunderland, Somers, and Halifax.

When good Mr. Evelyn described Sir Kenelm Digby's library as 'of more pomp than intrinsic value,' and as 'chiefly consisting of modern poets, romances, chemical and astrological books,' he did not contemplate the future possibility of such despised trifles becoming fashionable and in greater request than the accumulations of the collectors to whom the classics were daily food. As Edwards has pointed out, the portion which Digby gave to the Bodleian was in reality the fruit of the researches of his tutor, Thomas Allen. The portion which was of his own collecting, and consequently the only portion which accurately mirrored his own tastes, he took with him to France when driven into exile. When he died there, it apparently passed into the possession of Digby, Earl of Bristol, on whose account it was sold in London in 1680, fifteen years after its owner's death. The catalogue enumerated 3,878 items, of which 69 were manuscripts, the total of the sale being L904 4s.

Among the most famous of the seventeenth-century collectors were the two brothers Francis, Baron Guilford, Lord Keeper (1637-1685), and Dr. John North, master of Trinity College (1645-1683). Of these two there are some very entertaining facts in Roger North's 'Lives of the Norths' (1742-44). Dr. John North, we are told, 'very early in his career began to look after books and to lay the foundation of a competent library . . . buying at one lift a whole set of Greek classics in folio, in best editions. This sunk his stock [of money] for the time; but afterwards for many years of his life all that he could (as they say) rap or run went the same way. But the progress was small, for such a library as he desired, compared with what the pittance of his stock would purchase, allowing many years to the gathering, was of desperate expectation. . . . He courted, as a fond lover, all best editions, fairest characters, best-bound and preserved. . . . He delighted in the small editions of the classics by Seb. Gryphius, and divers of his acquaintance, meeting with any of them, bought and brought them to him, which he accepted as choice presents, although, perhaps, he had one or two of them before. . . . His soul was never so staked down as in an old bookseller's shop. . . . He was for the most part his own factor, and seldom or never bought by commission, which made him lose time in turning over vast numbers of books, and he was very hardly pleased at last. I have borne him company in shops for many hours together, and, minding him of the time, he hath made a dozen proffers before he would quit. By this care and industry, at length he made himself master of a very considerable library, wherein the choicest collection was Greek.' At his death the collection came to his brother, the Lord Keeper.

As with Dr. John North, book-hunting was the consuming passion of the life of a very different man—Richard Smyth or Smith (of whom there is a very fine and rare engraving by W. Sherwin), one of the Secondaries or Under-Sheriffs from 1644 to 1655. Having sufficient wealth, he resigned his municipal appointment, which was worth L700 a year, in order to devote himself entirely to book-hunting. Anthony a Wood describes him as 'infinitely curious and inquisitive after books,' and states that 'he was constantly known every day to walk his rounds amongst the booksellers' shops (especially in Little Britain).' Richard Chiswell, the bookseller who drew up a catalogue of Smith's books, which subsequently came into his possession en bloc, tells us that his skill and experience enabled him 'to make choice of such books that were not obvious to every man's eye. . . . He lived in times which ministered peculiar opportunities of meeting with books that were not every day brought into public light, and few eminent libraries were bought where he had not the liberty to pick and choose. Hence arose, as that vast number of his books, so the choiceness and rarity of the greatest part of them, and that of all kinds, and in all sorts of learning.' This collection was sold by auction in May, 1682, the catalogue of it occupying 404 closely-printed pages in large quarto. There were fourteen Caxtons, 'the aggregate produce' of which was L3 14s. 7d.; the 'Godfrey of Bulloigne' selling for 18s., 'being K. Edwarde the IVth's owne booke,' and the 'Booke of Good Manners,' for 2s.; the highest price in the entire sale being given for Holinshed's 'Chronicle,' 'with the addition of many sheets that were castrated, being . . . not allowed to be printed,' L7. Smith left an interesting and valuable obituary list of certain of his bibliopolic friends (which is reprinted in Willis' Current Notes, February, 1853), one of whom, according to him, was 'buried at St. Bartholomew's, without wine or wafers, only gloves and rosemary.'



Dr. Francis Bernard, chief physician to James II., was an indefatigable book-hunter; being 'a person who collected his books, not for ostentation or ornament, he seemed no more solicitous about their dress than his own, and, therefore, you'll find that a gilt back or a large margin was very seldom an inducement for him to buy. 'Twas sufficient for him that he had the book.' His library was sold in 1698, and realized the then enormous sum of L2,000. John Bridges, of Lincoln's Inn, the historian of Northamptonshire, was a collector who read as well as bought books; his collection was sold at auction in 1726, when 4,313 lots realized L4,001. Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, was a collector with comprehensive tastes and almost unlimited means. His collection is now in the British Museum, and is computed to have numbered about 26,000 volumes, on the binding of only a portion of which he is said to have expended L18,000, besides a mass of 350,000 pamphlets. Thomas Baker (1625-1690) bequeathed a portion of his library to St. John's College, Cambridge, notwithstanding the fact that he was ejected therefrom. He was an unceasing collector, but his finances were scanty, and, worst of all, he had to contend with collectors of greater wealth, or 'purse-ability' as Bodley calls it. Writing to Humfrey Wanley, he says: 'I begin to complain of the men of quality who lay out so much for books, and give such prices that there is nothing to be had for poor scholars, whereof I have found the effects. When I bid a fair price for an old book, I am answered, the "quality" will give twice as much, and so I have done. I have had much ado to pick up a few old books at tolerable prices, and despair of any more.' About 2,000 of his books went to St. John's College, and the others were sold by auction, many bearing the inscription 'Thomas Baker, socius ejectus,' etc. The library of another collector who, like Baker, had more of the kicks than of the ha'pence of this life, Thomas Hearne (1678-1735), may be mentioned briefly in this paragraph, for both were men of great learning. Hearne's collection was sold in February, 1736, by Osborne the bookseller, 'the lowest price being marked in each book.' On the title-page of the catalogue, and beneath a poor portrait of Hearne, is the well-known couplet:

'Quoth Time to Thomas Hearne, "Whatever I forget, you learn."'

Humphrey Dyson is another book-collector of this period, and is described by Hearne as 'a very curious man in collecting books.' The Wesleys were book-lovers and readers, but have perhaps but little claim to rank as collectors pur sang. However, it is interesting to point out that Lilly's catalogue for 1863 included a copy of Purcell's 'Orpheus Britannicus,' 1706, with an inscription on the fly-leaf: 'C. Wesley, junior. The valuable gift of his much-honor'd Father.'

The Restoration poets, like those of the Elizabethan period, had a sufficiently hard fight to keep themselves in food; books were luxuries which they could only venture to enjoy at long and uncertain intervals. Dryden and Congreve, however, appear to have been addicted to the pleasant pastime.

An exceedingly interesting copy of Spenser's 'Works,' folio, 1679, was once in the possession of Mr. F. S. Ellis. On the fly-leaf occurred this note: 'The corrections made in this book are of Mr. Dryden's own handwriting. J. Tonson.' The volume occurred in an auction, where its value was not detected. The 'corrections,' Mr. Ellis states, extend through the whole of the volume, and bear witness to the care and diligence with which Dryden had studied Spenser's poems. Several of the notes are in explanation of the text, but for the most part are careful and curious corrections of the text and press. The pedigree of this volume is well established by its having in the cover the bookplate of Thomas Barrett, of Lee, celebrated by Dibdin as a 'bibliomaniacal and tasteful gentleman.' Though Barrett died in 1757, his library was not dispersed till a few years since. Izaak Walton was a collector, and took the wise precaution of writing his autograph in each volume, as the very interesting score of examples now at Salisbury prove. His friend, Charles Cotton, of cheerful memory, was much more of a book-collector, although from the 'Angler' it would seem that his whole library was contained in his hall window. Like Walton, Cotton wrote his autograph in most of his books, which occur in the auction-room at irregular intervals. The extent or variety of the Cotton correction may be gathered from the following 'epigram' which Sir Aston Cokaine wrote (1658) 'To my Cousin, Mr. Charles Cotton the Younger':

'D'Avila, Bentivoglio, Guicciardine, And Machiavil, the subtle Florentine, In their originals I have read through, Thanks to your library, and unto you, The prime historians of later times; at least In the Italian tongue allow'd the best. When you have more such books, I pray vouchsafe Me their perusal, I'll return them safe. Yet for the courtesy, the recompense That I can make you will be only thanks. But you are noble-soul'd, and had much rather Bestow a benefit than receive a favour.'



One of the most remarkable collections of books ever made by a private individual was that known as the Sunderland Library. It was formed, not only in the short space of twelve years, but at a time when many books, now of almost priceless value, and scarcely to be had at any price, were comparatively common, and certainly not costly. Neither money nor pains was spared, 'and the bibliographical ardour of the founder soon began to be talked of in the bookshops of the chief cities of Europe.' The founder, Charles, third Earl of Sunderland, lived at Althorp, his town house being in Piccadilly, on the site of which the Albany now stands. At the latter place this library was lodged for several years. In Macky's 'Journey through England,' 1724, Sunderland House is there described as being separated from the street of Piccadilly 'by a wall with large grown trees before the gate. . . . The greatest beauty of this palace is the library, running from the house into the garden; and I must say is the finest in Europe, both for the disposition of the apartments, and of the books. The rooms, divided into five apartments, are fully 150 feet long, with two stories of windows, and a gallery runs round the whole in the second story for the taking down books. No nobleman in any nation hath taken greater care to make his collection complete, nor does he spare any cost for the most valuable and rare books. Besides, no bookseller in Europe hath so many editions of the same book as he, for he hath all, especially of the classicks.' The founder of this famous library died on April 19, 1722. Evelyn has left a few very interesting facts concerning this collection. Under the date March 10, 1695, we read: 'I din'd at the Earl of Sunderland's with Lord Spencer. My Lord shew'd me his library, now again improv'd by many books bought at the sale of Sir Charles Scarborough, an eminent physician, which was the very best collection, especially of mathematical books, that was I believe in Europe, once design'd for the King's library at St. James's, but the Queen dying, who was the greate patroness of the designe, it was let fall, and the books were miserably dissipated.' Four years later, April, 1699, we have another entry, to the effect that Lord Spencer purchased 'an incomparable library,' until now the property of 'a very fine scholar, whom from a child I have known,' whose name does not transpire [? Hadrian Beverland], but in whose library were many 'rare books . . . that were printed at the first invention of that wonderful art.' In reference to Macky's incidental allusion to the Earl of Sunderland's indifference to cost in forming his library, Wanley confirms this. Writing in December, 1721, the diarist observes that the books in Mr. Freebairn's library 'in general went low, or rather at vile rates, through a combination of the booksellers against the sale. Yet some books went for unaccountably high prices, which were bought by Mr. Vaillant, the bookseller, who had an unlimited commission from the Earl of Sunderland.' Among the items was an edition of Virgil, printed by Zarothus circa 1475: 'It was noted that when Mr. Vaillant had bought the printed Virgil at L46, he huzza'd out aloud, and threw up his hat, for joy that he had bought it so cheap.' When this famous book-collector died, Wanley observes that 'by reason of his decease some benefit may accrue to this library [Lord Oxford's], even in case his relations will part with none of his books. I mean, by his raising the price of books no higher now; so that, in probability, this commodity may fall in the market; and any gentleman be permitted to buy an uncommon old book for less than forty or fifty pounds.' The third son of this famous book-collector, Charles, fifth Earl of Sunderland, and second Duke of Marlborough, greatly enlarged the collection formed by his father; and it was removed to Blenheim probably in 1734. This famous library remained practically intact until it came under the hammer at Puttick and Simpson's, occupying fifty-one days in the dispersal at intervals from December 1, 1881, to March 22, 1883, the total being L55,581 6s. It is stated that the library originally cost about L30,000.

Dr. David Williams, who from 1688 to the end of his life was minister of a Presbyterian congregation which met at Hand Alley, Bishopsgate Street, was a contemporary book-collector and book-hunter. His special line was theology, and his library, which absorbed that of Dr. Bates, once Rector of St. Dunstan's-in-the-East, is still preserved intact, and is now, to a certain degree, a free library. Archbishop Tenison was another great book-hunter of this period, and his library was preserved more or less intact until 1861, when it was dispersed at Sotheby's, under an order of the Charity Commissioners.

The brothers Thomas and Richard Rawlinson were, probably, the most omnivorous collectors of the earlier part of the last century. Everything in the shape of a book was welcomed. The former (1681-1725), whose 'C. & P.' (collated and perfect) appears on the frontispiece, title-page, or fly-leaf of books, when he lived in Gray's Inn, had so filled his set of four rooms with books that he was obliged to sleep in the passage. He is said to be the original study for the 158th Tatler, in which 'Tom Folio' and other soi-disant scholars are trounced. 'He has a greater esteem for Aldus and Elzevir than for Virgil and Horace.' It is very doubtful whether Addison (who wrote this particular Tatler) really had Thomas Rawlinson in mind, whom he describes as 'a learned idiot.' Swift has declared that some know books as they do lords; learn their titles exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance. But neither description is applicable to Rawlinson, who, for all that, may have known much more about Aldus or the Elzevirs than about Virgil or Horace. With a pretty taste for epithets, in which our forefathers sometimes indulged, Hearne has defended his friend from Addison's sarcasms by declaring that the mistake could only have been made by a 'shallow buffoon.' That Rawlinson was a bibliomaniac there can be no question, for if he had a score copies of one book, he would purchase another for the mere gratification of possessing it. When he removed to the large mansion in Aldersgate Street, which had been the palace of the Bishops of London, and which he shared with his brother, 'the books still continued to be better lodged than their owner.' He died, at the comparatively early age of forty-four, as he had lived, among dust and cobwebs, 'in his bundles, piles and bulwarks of paper.' The catalogue of his huge mass of books was divided into nine parts; the sale of the MSS. alone occupied sixteen days. Richard Rawlinson (died 1755) survived his brother thirty years, and continued to collect books with all his brother's enthusiasm, but without his sheer book-greed. His MSS. are at Oxford, and the extent and richness of his accumulations may be gathered from the fact that the collector laid nearly thirty libraries under contribution. His printed books were sold in 1756 by Samuel Baker (now Sotheby's), the sale occupying forty-nine days, and the total amounting to L1,155 1s.; a second sale included 20,000 pamphlets, and a third sale consisted of prints.



Among the wisest and most distinguished book-collectors of the first half of the last century is Dr. Richard Mead (1673-1754), a physician by profession, but a bibliophile by instinct, and whom Dr. Johnson described as having 'lived more in the broad sunshine of life than almost any other man.' As Dr. Mead's fine library was 'picked up at Rome,' it scarcely comes within our purview; but it may be mentioned that so long as this fine collection remained intact in London, it was ipso facto a free library; it was especially rich in the classics, sciences and history. The first part was sold by Samuel Baker in 1754, and the second in the following year, the 6,592 lots occupying fifty-seven days, the total of the books being L5,496 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 L500, realized, when sold by auction by King in 1798, upwards of L2,000. 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 L2,740 15s.; whilst that of Reed, sold seven years later, contained 8,957 articles, and realized L4,387.

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 L20. The first, second, third and fourth folios realized L22, L18 18s., L8 8s., and L2 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.'



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.



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.



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 L57,000, 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 L330,000, 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 facetiae. 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 L30,000 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 L73,551 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 L12,892 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 L70,000. 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 L15,189 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 L1,500—a London bookseller once offered L5,000 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 L1,700. 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 L2,500, 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 L100,000; it is generally understood that the price paid for it in 1892 was not far short of L250,000.



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 L4,000, whilst in the course of little more than twenty years it produced over L23,397, 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 L215 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 L130,000. 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 'Elemens de l'Histoire de France,' 1770; Voltaire's 'Siecles' 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 Francois 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 L1,250 when sold at King and Lochee'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 Caesar'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 L44, 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 L4 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 L17 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 L100 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 Lochee, 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 L2,050. Two portions of the Towneley Library were dispersed by Evans in 1814-15 (seventeen days), and realized over L8,597, 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 L11,973 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 L6,701 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 L47 5s.; and a curious collection of 'Masks' and 'Triumphs,' of the early seventeenth century, mostly by Ben Jonson, realized L40. As a book-collector Sir Mark Masterman Sykes is a much better remembered figure in the annals of book-hunting than that of the Marquis of Lansdowne. The Sykes library contained a number of the editiones principes of the classics, some on vellum, and also a number of Aldines in the most perfect condition. There were also many highly curious and very rare pieces of early English poetry. The collection was sold at Evans's in 1824, and the gems of the collection were a copy of the Mazarin Bible, and the Latin Psalter, 1459, to which full reference is made in a subsequent chapter.

II.

The history of literature, it is said, teaches us to consider its decline only as the development of a great principle of succession by which the treasures of the mind are circulated and equalized; as shoots by which the stream of improvement is forcibly directed into new channels, to fertilize new soils and awaken new capabilities. The history of book-collecting teaches us a similar lesson. The love which so often amounted to a positive passion for the exquisite productions of the Age of Illuminated Manuscripts, all but died with the introduction of the printing-press, which in reality was but a continuation of the old art in a new form. And so on, down through the successive decades and generations of the past four centuries, the decline—but not the death, for such a term cannot be applied to any phase of book-collecting—of one particular aspect of the hobby has synchronized with the birth of several others, sometimes more worthy, and at others less. An exhaustive inquiry into the various and manifold changes through which the human mind passed alone might account for these various developments, which it is not the intention of the present writer on this occasion to analyze.

The rise and progress of what Sir Egerton Brydges calls 'the black-letter mania' gave the death-blow to the long-cherished school of poetry of which Pope may be taken as the most distinguished exponent. 'Men of loftier taste and bolder fancy early remonstrated against this chilling confinement of the noblest, the most aspiring, and most expansive of all the Arts. . . . It was not till the commotion of Europe broke the chain of indolence and insipid effeminacy that the stronger passions of readers required again to be stimulated and exercised and soothed, and that the minor charms of correctness were sacrificed to the ardent efforts of uncontrolled and unfearing genius. The authors of this class began to look back for their materials to an age of hazardous freedom, and copious and untutored eloquence: an age in which the world of words and free and native ideas was not contracted and blighted by technical critics and cold and fastidious scholars.' To abandon the abstract for the more matter-of-fact details of sober history, the mania to which Brydges alludes may be said to date itself from the spring of 1773. The occasion was the sale in London of the library of James West, President of the Royal Society. George Nicol, the bookseller, was an extensive purchaser at this sale for the King, for whom, indeed, he acted in a similar capacity up to the last. Nicol told Dibdin 'with his usual pleasantry and point, that he got abused in the public papers, by Almon and others, for having purchased nearly the whole of the Caxtonian volumes in this collection for his Majesty's library. It was said abroad that a Scotchman had lavished away the King's money in buying old black-letter books.' The absurdity of this report was soon proved at subsequent sales. Dibdin adds, as a circumstance highly honourable to the King, that 'his Majesty, in his directions to Mr. Nicol, forbade any competition with those purchasers who wanted books of science and belles lettres for their own progressive or literary pursuits; thus using the power of his purse in a manner at once merciful and wise.'



The impetus which book-collecting, and more particularly the section to which we have just referred, received by the dispersal of the West Library gathered in force as time went on, reaching its climax with the Roxburghe sale thirty-nine years afterwards. The enthusiasm culminated in a club—the Roxburghe, which still flourishes. The warfare (at Roxburghe House, St. James's Square), as Mr. Silvanus Urban has recorded, was equalled only by the courage and gallantry displayed on the plains of Salamanca about the same period. 'As a pillar, or other similar memorial, could not be conveniently erected to mark the spot where so many bibliographical champions fought and conquered, another method was adopted to record their fame, and perpetuate this brilliant epoch in literary annals. Accordingly, a phalanx of the most hardy veterans has been enrolled under the banner of the far-famed Valdarfer's Boccaccio of 1471. . . . The first anniversary meeting of this noble band was celebrated at the St. Alban's Tavern [St. Alban's Street, now Waterloo Place] on Thursday, June 17, 1813, being the memorable day on which the before-mentioned Boccaccio was sold for L2,260. The chair was taken by Earl Spencer (perpetual president of the club), supported by Lords Morpeth and Gower, and the following gentlemen,[61:A] viz., Sir E. Brydges, Messrs. W. Bentham, W. Bolland, J. Dent, T. F. Dibdin (vice-president), Francis Freeling, Henry Freeling, Joseph Hazlewood, Richard Heber, Thomas C. Heber, G. Isted, R. Lang, J. H. Markland, J. D. Phelps, T. Ponton, junior, J. Towneley, E. V. Utterson, and R. Wilbraham. Upon the cloth being removed, the following appropriate toasts were delivered from the chair:

1. The cause of Bibliomania all over the world.

2. The immortal memory of Christopher Valdarfer, the printer of the Boccaccio of 1471.

3. The immortal memory of William Caxton, first English printer.

4. The immortal memory of Wynkyn de Worde.

5. The immortal memory of Richard Pynson.

6. The immortal memory of Julian Notary.

7. The immortal memory of William Faques.

8. The immortal memory of the Aldine family.

9. The immortal memory of the Stephenses.

10. The immortal memory of John, Duke of Roxburghe.

'After these the health of the noble president was proposed, and received by the company standing, with three times three. Then followed the health of the worthy vice-president (proposed by Mr. Heber), which, it is scarcely necessary to observe, was drunk with similar honours. . . . The president was succeeded in the chair by Lord Gower, who, at midnight, yielded to Mr. Dent; and that gentleman gave way to the Prince of Bibliomaniacs, Mr. Heber. Though the night, or rather the morning, wore apace, it was not likely that a seat so occupied would be speedily deserted; accordingly, the "regal purple stream" ceased not to flow till "Morning oped her golden gates," or, in plain terms, till past four o'clock.' Such is a brief account of the Roxburghe Club, which is limited to thirty-one members, one black ball being fatal to the candidate who offers himself for a vacancy, and each member in his annual turn has to print a book or pamphlet, and to present to his fellow-members a copy. Before making any further reference to the personnel of the Roxburghe Club, we quote, from a literary journal of 1823, the following trenchant paragraph, a propos of a similar club in Scotland:

'BIBLIOMANIA.—This most ridiculous of all the affectations of the day has lately exhibited another instance of its diffusion, in the establishment of a Roxburghe[62:A] Club in Edinburgh. Its object, we are told, "is the republication of scarce and valuable tracts, especially poetry."—"Republication!" In what manner? Commonsense forbid that the system of the London Roxburghe Club be adopted. Of this there are some four-and-twenty members or so, who dine together a certain number of times in the year, and each member in his turn republishes some old tract at his own expense. There are just so many copies printed as there are members of the club, and one copy is presented to each. It is evident that no sort of good can be effected by this system, and, indeed, there has not yet resulted any benefit to the literature of the country from the Roxburghe Club. They have not published a single book of any conceivable merit. The truth is that the members, for the most part, are a set of persons of no true taste, of no proper notion of learning and its uses—very considerable persons in point of wealth, but very so-so in point of intellect.'



The primary aim and object of the Roxburghe Club were clearly enough indicated in the first list of members, for the association of men with kindred tastes is at all times a highly commendable one. The Roxburghe Club might have sustained its raison d'etre, if it had drawn the line at such men as Thomas Frognall Dibdin and Joseph Hazlewood. The foregoing extract from the Museum of 1823 exactly indicates the position which the club at that time held in public estimation. It had degenerated into a mere drinking and gormandizing association, alike a disgrace to its more respectable members and an insult to the nobleman whose name it was dragging through the mire. Those who have an opportunity of consulting the Athenaeum for 1834 will find, in the first four issues of January, one of the most scathing exposures to which any institution has ever been subjected. Hazlewood had died, and his books came into the sale-room. Never had the adage of 'Dead men tell no tales' been more completely falsified. Hazlewood, who does not seem to have been unpleasantly particular in telling the truth when living, told it with a vengeance after his death; for among his papers there was a bundle entitled 'Roxburghe Revels,' which Thorpe purchased for L40, the editor of the Athenaeum being the under-bidder. A few days afterwards, and for the weighty consideration of a L10 note profit, the lot passed into the hands of Mr. Dilke, and the articles to which we have referred followed.[64:A] If anything could have made the deceased Joseph turn in his grave, it would have been the attention which he received at the unsparing hands of Mr. Dilke. The excellent Mr. Dibdin survived the exposure several years. The castigation proved beneficial to the club; and if its revelries were no less boisterous than heretofore, it at all events circulated among its members books worthy of the name of Roxburghe, and edited in a scholarly manner. The club still flourishes, with the Marquis of Salisbury as its president, and the list of its members will be found in our chapter on 'Modern Collectors.'



One of the mighty book-hunters of the last century was the Rev. Clayton Mordaunt Cracherode (whose father went out as a commander of marines in Anson's ship, and whose share in the prize-money made him a wealthy man), who died on April 6, 1799, in his seventieth year. His splendid library now forms a part of the British Museum. It contains the most choice copies in classical and Biblical literature, and many of these are on vellum. His collection of editions of the fifteenth century Mr. Cracherode used modestly to call a 'specimen' one; 'they form perhaps the most perfect collana or necklace ever strung by one man.' Several of the books formerly belonged to Grolier. His library was valued at L10,000 at or about the time of his death; it would probably now realize considerably over ten times that amount if submitted to auction. The value of his prints was placed at L5,000. Cracherode was an excellent scholar, and an amiable; his passion for collecting was strong even in death, for whilst he was at the last extremity his agent was making purchases for him. He was one of the most constant habitues of Tom Payne's, and at his final visit he put an Edinburgh Terence in one pocket and a large-paper Cebes in the other. His house was in Queen Square, Westminster, overlooking St. James's Park.

Reverting once more to the change which had been effected in the fancies of book-collectors, James Bindley, whose library was sold after his decease in 1819, and James Perry, who died in 1821, may be regarded as typical collectors of the transition period. Both are essentially London book-hunters—the former was an official in the Stamp Office, and the latter was, inter alia, the editor of the Morning Chronicle. Bindley, to whom John Nichols dedicated his 'Literary Anecdotes,' was a book-hunter who made very practical use of his scholarly tastes and ample means. He haunted the bookstalls and shops with the pertinacity of a tax-gatherer, and if his original expenditure were placed by the side of the total which his collection of books brought after his death, no more convincing arguments in favour of book-hunting could possibly be needed. Bindley is the 'Leontes' of Dibdin's 'Bibliographical Decameron,' and his collection of poetical rarities of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was one of the most remarkable which had ever been got together. Not many of the items had cost him more than a few shillings each, and they realized almost as many pounds as he had paid shillings. Perry was a journalist first and a book-collector afterwards, but in many respects there was a great similarity in the tastes of the two rival bibliophiles. Perry's was the more extensive collection—it was sold in four parts, 1822-23—and perhaps on the whole much more generally interesting. Evans, the auctioneer, described it as 'an extraordinary assemblage of curious books, Early English poetry, old tracts and miscellaneous literature.' The cheval de bataille of the fourth part consisted of 'a most Curious, Interesting and Extraordinarily Extensive Assemblage of Political and Historical Pamphlets of the Last and Present Century.' This collection was comprised in thirty-five bundles. Perry made a speciality of facetiae, pamphlets on the French Revolution, and Defoe's works, but the two cornerstones of his library were a copy of the Mazarin Bible and a First Folio Shakespeare.

Among the many book-collectors whose careers link the past century with the present, few are more worthy of notice than Francis Douce, who died in the spring of 1834, aged seventy-seven. He was for a short time Keeper of the MSS. in the British Museum. His fortune was much increased by being left one of the residuary legatees of Nollekens, the sculptor—to the extent, in fact, of L50,000. Dibdin, who was for many years a near neighbour and intimate friend at Kensington, describes Douce's library as 'eminently rich and curious . . . not a book but what had its fly-leaf written upon. In short, no man ever lived so much with, and so entirely for, his books as did he.' Douce is the Prospero of the 'Bibliomania.' His books he bequeathed to the Bodleian, and his MSS. to the British Museum, the stipulation in the latter case being that they are not to be opened until 1900! In manners and appearance Douce was singular and strange, rough to strangers, but gentle and kind to those who knew him intimately. He was of the old school as regards dress, wearing as he did a little flaxen wig, an old-fashioned square-cut coat, with what M. Jacob calls 'quarto pockets.' Several of his letters are printed in Dibdin's 'Literary Recollections.'

Two other distinguished book-collectors, contemporary with Douce, and, like him, benefactors to the Bodleian, may be mentioned here—Richard Gough (1739-1809), the antiquary; and Edmond Malone (1741-1812), the Shakespearian scholar. Gough's gift consisted of the topographical portion of his library; the remainder, comprising 4,373 lots, realizing the total of L3,552, came under the hammer at Leigh and Sotheby's in 1810, realizing what were then considered very fancy prices (a selection of which are given in the Gentleman's Magazine, lxxx., part ii.). The Malone collection, which became the property of the Bodleian through the influence of Lord Sunderlin in 1815, comprised what the collector himself describes as 'the most curious, valuable, and extensive collection ever assembled of ancient English plays and poetry.' It would probably be impossible now to form another such collection. Malone told Caldwell, who repeats the remarkable fact, that he had procured every dramatic piece mentioned by Langbaine, excepting four or five—the advantage, observes that gentleman, of living in London. The number of volumes amounts to about 3,200. As his biographer, Sir James Prior, has pointed out, his collection in the Bodleian remains distinct, and is creditable 'alike to the industry, taste, and patience by which it was brought together.' And further: 'None of his predecessors have attempted what he accomplished. Few of his successors have, on most points, added materially to our knowledge.' Yet a third benefactor to the Bodleian may be conveniently mentioned here. Thomas Caldecott, who was born in 1744, and died in 1833, was a Fellow of New College, Oxford, and afterwards a Bencher of the Middle Temple. He resided chiefly at Dartford, and formed a choice library of black-letter books, and the productions of the Elizabethan period. He attacked with considerable asperity and ability Shakespearian commentators, such as Steevens and Malone; and his rivals did not spare his edition of two of Shakespeare's plays when they came out. He presented the gems of his library, the Shakespeare quartos, to the Bodleian; but the remainder of his books, including many excessively rare and several unique pieces, came up for sale at Sotheby's in 1833, and realized a total of L1,210 6s. 6d.

The splendid library of John Dent, of Hertford Street, sold by Evans in 1827, producing the sum of L15,040, had a curious history. The nucleus of it was formed towards the close of the last century by Haughton James, who, in a moment of conviviality, and without a due consideration of its true value, transferred it to Robert Heathcote,[68:A] who made several additions, and from whose possession it passed about 1807 into that of John Dent. The sale of the Dent library is described by Dibdin as exhibiting the 'first grand melancholy symptoms of the decay of the Bibliomania.' The chief attraction was the Sweynheym and Pannartz Livy, 1469, on vellum, which fell (in more senses than one) under the hammer for L262, Dent having paid L903 for it at Sir Mark Sykes' sale. Both the purchasers, Payne and Foss, and Dibdin, made strenuous efforts to persuade the Earl of Spencer to purchase it, but unsuccessfully; it subsequently became the property of Grenville, and passed with his collection into the British Museum. Dent is the Pontevallo of the 'Bibliomania,' and Baroccio of the 'Bibliographical Decameron,' and does not seem to have been an altogether amiable specimen of the fraternity. Canning used to say that he once found Dent deep in the study of an open book which was upside down!

A much more genial bibliomaniac, Sir William Bolland, calls for notice; he was one of the original members of the Roxburghe Club, which, in fact, was first suggested at a dinner-party at his house, June 4, 1812. He died May 14, 1840, aged sixty-eight, and his library, which comprised 2,940 lots, and realized L3,019, was sold by Evans, and included many choice books. One of the greatest bargains which this distinguished collector secured during his career became his property through the medium of Benjamin Wheatley, who purchased a bundle of poetical tracts from the Chapter Library at Lincoln for 80 guineas. When the inevitable sale came, one of these trifles, 'The Rape of Lucrece,' alone realized 100 guineas.

George Chalmers (1742-1825), who is described as 'the most learned and the most celebrated of all the antiquaries and historians of Scotland,' was also one of the giant book-collectors of the present century, and differed from the majority of collectors in being a prolific and versatile author. At his death his nephew became the possessor of his extensive library, but on the death of the nephew the books were placed in the hands of Evans, who sold them in two parts, September, 1841, and February, 1842, and realized over L4,100. The second part was very rich in Shakespeariana, and included the 'Sonnets,' 1609, L105; 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' 1600 (second edition), L105; and many other important items. In the first part of the sale, Marlowe's 'Tragedie of Richard, Duke of York,' 1595 (believed to be unique), sold for L131; and the only perfect copy then known of Patrick Hannay's 'Nightingale,' 1622, from the libraries of Bindley, Perry, Sykes and Rice, L13 5s. The third part of Chalmers' library, which consisted for the most part of works relative to Scotland, particularly in illustration of the History of Printing in that Country, was also sold by Evans in 1842. Among other book-collectors of this period we may mention particularly the Rev. Henry Joseph Thomas Drury, whose library was rich in classics, all for the most part finely bound; it came under the hammer at Evans's in 1827 (4,729 lots); Dr. Isaac Gosset, who died in 1812, in his sixty-eighth year, and whose library, comprising 5,740 lots, realized L3,141 7s. 6d. at Leigh and Sotheby's in 1813; the Rev. Jonathan Boucher (1738-1804), Vicar of Epsom, who, like George Chalmers, for many years resided in America, was, also like him, an inveterate book-collector to whom everything in the shape of a book was welcome: his sale occupied Leigh and Sotheby thirty-nine days, in 1806, the total being over L4,510.

III.

The history of the second and third quarters of the present century makes mention of very few collectors of the first rank. Among the more important of those whose libraries came under the hammer within that period, we may specially refer to the following: William Upcott, who started early in life as an assistant to R. H. Evans, but who in 1806 became sub-librarian of the London Institution. He was one of the first to take up autograph-collecting, of which, indeed, he has been termed the pioneer. He certainly collected with great advantage and knowledge, and his vast accumulations were sold at Sotheby's in four batches during 1846, he having died in September, 1845; John Hugh Smyth Piggott, whose library, in three portions, was sold at the same place, 1847-54; W. Y. Ottley, the prolific writer of books on art, 1849; W. Holgate, of the Post Office, whose library included a number of Shakespeariana, June, 1846; Hanrott, 1857; Sir Thomas Bernard, 1855; Isaac D'Israeli, the author of 'Curiosities of Literature,' in 1849, and his unsparing critic, Bolton Corney, in 1871; S. W. Singer, in four parts, 1860; J. Orchard Halliwell (afterwards Halliwell-Phillipps), in 1856, 1857, and 1859; and the Rev. Dr. Hawtrey, part of whose books were sold, far below their worth, in 1853, and the rest nine years later. Many of the foregoing were literary men, who aimed rather at getting together a useful library than one of rarities. The sale of all such libraries makes a very sorry show beside that of the more ostentatious collections. For instance, the books which Macaulay used with such brilliant effect, and including among them an extraordinary number of tracts, many excessively rare, only realized L426 15s. 6d., when sold in 1863 in 1,011 lots. Douglas Jerrold's little library, sold in August, 1859, in 307 lots, only fetched L173 3s. In very strong contrast to these is the remarkable little library, formed between 1820 and 1830 by Henry Perkins, of Hanworth Park, Feltham, a member of the brewing firm. This collection comprised only 865 lots, but when sold at Sotheby's in June, 1873, the total was found to be close on L26,000! There was a copy each of the 42-line and 40-line Gutenberg Bible—the former is now in the Huth Library, and the latter in the Ashburnham Library; several other very early printed Bibles, including Coverdale's, Matthews', and Cranmer's, two works printed by Caxton, with many other important books were sold.



The late George Daniel (who was born about 1790) may be regarded as the connecting link between the collectors of the early part of the present century and those of to-day. When, for example, Perry and Bindley left off, Daniel commenced. There was no great rush after Shakespeare quartos in the earlier part of the present century, and book-collecting for a time ceased to be the pet hobby of wealthy members of the peerage. When George Daniel, a critic and bibliographer of exceptional abilities, began to collect, he soon made Shakespeare, as well as the earlier English poets, objects of solicitude. He resided for many years in the historic old red-brick tower at Canonbury.[72:A] The sale of Daniel's extraordinary collection was held at Sotheby's in July, 1864, when a First Folio, one of the finest in the world—now in the possession of Baroness Burdett-Coutts—sold for L716 2s., and when twenty of the Shakespeare quartos realized a total of about L3,000.



George Daniel is now remembered by but few book-collectors. Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt knew him very well, and describes him as a retired accountant, whose idiosyncrasy consisted of rares morceaux, bonnes bouches, uniques—copies of books with a provenance, or in jackets made for them by Roger Payne—nay, in the original parchment or paper wrapper, or in a bit of real mutton which certain men call sheep. He was a person of literary tastes, and had written books in his day. But his chief celebrity was as an acquirer of those of others, provided always that they were old enough or rare enough. An item never passed into his possession without at once ipso facto gaining new attributes, almost invariably worded in a holograph memorandum on the fly-leaf. Daniel was in the market at a fortunate and peculiar juncture, just when prices were depressed, about the time of the great Heber sale. His marvellous gleanings came to the hammer precisely when the quarto Shakespeare, the black-letter romance, the unique book of Elizabethan verse, had grown worth ten times their weight in sovereigns. Sir William Tite, J. O. Halliwell, and Henry Huth were to the front. It was in 1864. What a wonderful sight it was! No living man had ever witnessed the like. Copies of Shakespeare, printed from the prompters' MSS. and published at fourpence, fetched L300 or L400. I remember old Joseph Lilly, when he had secured the famous Ballads, which came from the Tollemaches of Helmingham Hall, holding up the folio volume in which they were contained in triumph as someone whom he knew entered the room. Poor Daniel! he had no mean estimate of his treasures—what he had was always better than what you had. Books, prints, autographs—it was all the same. I met him one morning in Long Acre. I had bought a very fine copy of Taylor, the Water Poet. "Oh, yes, sir," he said, "I saw it; but not quite so fine as mine." He went up to Highgate to look through the engravings of Charles Matthews the elder. They were all duplicates—of course inferior ones. "Damn him, sir!" cried Matthews afterwards to a friend; "I should like him to have had a duplicate of my wooden leg."

John Payne Collier, who was born a year before Daniel, but who lived until 1883, was a collector with very similar tastes. He had been a reporter on the Morning Chronicle, and in all probability imbibed some of his book-collecting zeal from Perry. His book-buying and literary career commenced, according to his own account, in 1804 or 1805, when his father took him into the shop of Thomas Rodd, senior, on which occasion he purchased his 'first Old English book of any value,' namely, Wilson's 'Art of Logic,' printed by Grafton, 1551; from this he ascertained that 'Ralf Roister Doister' was an older play than 'Gammer Gurton's Needle,' and also that it was by Nicholas Udal, Master of Eton School. When in Holland, in the winter of 1813-14, Collier purchased among other books an imperfect copy of Tyndale's 'Gospel of St. Matthew,' to which, as he says in his 'Diary,' 'the date of 1526 [1525] has been assigned, and which seems to be the very earliest translation into English of any portion of the New Testament. Many years afterwards—I think in the spring of 1832—I happened to show it to Rodd, the learned bookseller. I was at that time ignorant on the subject, and Rodd offered me books to the value of two or three pounds for it. I gladly accepted them.' This fragment, for which Collier paid a florin, was sold to Mr. Grenville by Rodd for L50, and is now in the British Museum. Writing in the Athenaeum, January 31, 1852, he gives an account of the origin of events which led to one of the fiercest literary quarrels of modern times: 'A short time before the death of the late Mr. Rodd, of Newport Street [i.e. early in 1849], I happened to be in his shop when a considerable parcel of books arrived from the country. He told me that they had been bought for him at an auction—I think in Bedfordshire. . . . He unpacked them in my presence . . . and there were two which attracted my attention, one being a fine copy of Florio's "Italian Dictionary," of the edition of 1611, and the other a much-thumbed, abused, and imperfect copy of the Second Folio of Shakespeare, 1632. The first I did not possess, and the last I was willing to buy, inasmuch as I apprehended it would add some missing leaves to a copy of the same impression which I had had for some time on my shelves. As was his usual course, Mr. Rodd required a very reasonable price for both; for the first I remember I gave 12s. and for the last only L1 10s. . . . On the outside of one of the covers was inscribed, "Tho. Perkins, his booke."' Collier was vexed at finding that the volume contained no leaves which would help him in completing the volume he already had. He had employed another person to do the collating, and it was not until some considerable time after, and on examining thoroughly the volume himself, that he discovered it to contain a large series of emendations, which Collier included in his 'Notes and Emendations to the Text of Shakespeare's Plays,' 1853, which set the whole town by the ears. Collier's library was dispersed at Sotheby's in 1884; it was an unusually interesting sale, and included many very rare and curious books.



Southey, Coleridge, Charles Lamb, Wordsworth, and William Hazlitt were book-collectors of a type which deserves a niche to itself. Writing to Coleridge in 1797, Lamb says: 'I have had thoughts of turning Quaker, and have been reading, or am, rather, just beginning to read, a most capital book, good thoughts in good language, William Penn's "No Cross, no Crown." I like it immensely.' Lamb's ideas of book-marking are to be found in his correspondence with Coleridge, in which he states that a book reads the better when the topography of its plots and notes is thoroughly mastered, and when we 'can trace the dirt in it, to having read it at tea with buttered muffins, or over a pipe.' Lamb's library consisted for the most part of tattered volumes in a dreadful state of repair. Lamb, like Young, the poet, dog-eared his books to such an extent that many of them would hardly close at all. From the correspondence of Bernard Barton we get a glimpse at Lamb's cottage in Colebrook Row, Islington—a white house with six good rooms. 'You enter without passage into a cheerful dining-room, all studded over and rough with old books.' Barton also writes: 'What chiefly attracted me was a large old book-case full of books. I could but think how many long walks must have been taken to bring them home, for there were but few that did not bear the mark of having been bought at many a bookstall—brown, dark-looking books, distinguished by those white tickets which told how much their owner had given for each.'



In an edition of Donne [? 1669] which belonged to Lamb, Coleridge scrawled: 'I shall die soon, my dear Charles Lamb, and then you will not be vexed that I have be-scribbled your book. S. T. C., 2nd May, 1811.' Lamb was too good-natured to be a book-collector. On one occasion William Hazlitt[77:A] sent Martin Burney to Lamb to borrow Wordsworth's 'Excursion,' and Lamb being out, Burney took it, a high-handed proceeding which involved the borrower in a blowing-up. Coleridge at another time helped himself to Luther's 'Table-Talk,' and this also called forth a great outcry. A copy of Chapman's Homer, which passed through the hands of Wordsworth and S. T. Coleridge, eventually turned up in one of Lilly's catalogues. This identical copy is noticed in an account of Rydal Mount which appeared in the first volume of Once a Week. Coleridge, of course, has made a number of notes in it, and in one of these he describes the translation as 'an exquisite poem, spite of its frequent and perverse quaintness and harshnesses, which are, however, amply repaid by almost unexampled sweetness and beauty of language.'



The difference between a bibliophile and a bibliomaniac has been described as between one who adorns his mind, and the other his book-cases. Of the bibliomaniac as here characterized, we can suggest no better type than Thomas Hill, the original of Poole's 'Paul Pry,' and of Hull in Hook's novel, 'Gilbert Gurney.' Devoid as Hill was of intellectual endowments, he managed to obtain and secure the friendship of many eminent men—of Thomas Campbell, the poet, Matthews and Liston, the comedians, Hook, Dubois, John and Leigh Hunt, James and Horace Smith, John Taylor, editor of the Sun, Horace Twiss, Baron Field, Sir George Rose, Barnes, subsequently editor of the Times, Cyrus Redding, and many others. That he was kind-hearted and hospitable nearly everyone has testified, and his literary parties at his Sydenham Tusculum were quite important events, in spite of the ponderosity of his well-worn stories. During the more acute stages of bibliomania in this country at the latter part of the last century and the beginning of this, 'when the Archaica, Heliconia, and Roxburghe Clubs were outbidding each other for old black-letter works . . . when books, in short, which had only become scarce because they were always worthless, were purchased upon the same principle as that costly and valueless coin, a Queen Anne's farthing,' Hill had been a constant collector of rare and other books which were in demand. That he knew nothing of the insides of his books is very certain; but he knew how much each copy would bring at an auction, and how much it had brought at all previous sales. When the bibliomania had reached its height, Messrs. Longman and Co. determined upon embarking in such a lucrative branch of the trade; they applied to Hill for advice and assistance, offering to begin by the purchase of his entire collection, a proposition which he embraced with alacrity. He drew up a catalogue raisonne of his books, affixing his price for each volume. The collection was despatched in three or four trunks to Paternoster Row, and he received in payment the acceptances of the firm for as many thousand pounds. From some cause or other, the purchasers soon repented of their bargain, but the only terms which Horace Smith could obtain for the Longmans was an extension in the term of payment. Hill declared that the collection was worth double the price he had been paid for it. For many years Hill assisted Perry, of the Morning Chronicle, in making selections of rare books for his fine library at Tavistock House, particularly in the department of facetiae. After leaving Sydenham, Hill took chambers in James Street, Adelphi, where he resided until his death. The walls of his rooms were completely hidden by books, and his couch was 'enclosed in a lofty circumvallation of volumes piled up from the carpet.' He was never married, had no relations, and even his age was a source of mystery to his friends. James Smith once said to him: 'The fact is, Hill, the register of your birth was destroyed in the Great Fire of London, and you take advantage of the accident to conceal your real age.' Hook went further by suggesting that he might originally have been one of the little hills recorded as skipping in the Psalms. Hill died in 1840, his age being placed at eighty-three years. Horace Smith said 'he could not believe that Hill was dead, and he could not insult a man he had known so long; Hill would reappear.'



Samuel Rogers, the banker poet, was also a book-collector, but not in the sense of one who aims at number. His house at 22, St. James's Place, overlooking Green Park, was for over half a century—he had removed here from the Temple about 1803—one of the most celebrated meeting-places of literature and art in London. Byron, in his 'Diary,' says, 'If you enter his house—his drawing-room, his library—you of yourself say, This is not the dwelling of a common mind. There is not a gem, a coin, a book, thrown aside on his chimney-piece, his sofa, his table, that does not bespeak an almost fastidious elegance in the possessor.' A writer in the Athenaeum of December 29, 1855, a few days after the poet's death, describes the library as 'lined with bookcases surmounted by Greek vases, each one remarkable for its exquisite beauty of form. Upon the gilt lattice-work of the bookcases are lightly hung in frames some of the finest original sketches by Raphael, Michelangelo, and Andrea del Sarto; and finished paintings by Angelico da Fiesole, and Fouquet of Tours.' Among the treasures of the library were the MSS. of Gray, in their perfect calligraphy, and the famous agreement between Milton and the publisher Simmonds, for the copyright of 'Paradise Lost.'



Tom Moore the poet, and his friend and fellow-countryman, Thomas Crofton Croker, were both book-collectors. The library of the former was, in 1855, presented by his widow to the Royal Irish Academy, 'as a memorial of her husband's taste and erudition.' Croker's books, which were dispersed after his death, contain an exceedingly curious book-plate, either indicating the possessor's residence, 'Rosamond's Bower, Fulham,' or '3, Gloucester Road, Old Brompton,' the various learned societies to which he belonged, with the additional information that he was founder and president (1828-1848) of the Society of Novimagus. Charles Dickens, Thackeray, W. Harrison Ainsworth (the collection of the last was sold at Sotheby's in 1882, and realized L469 19s. 6d.), and Charles Lever were not book-collectors in the usual sense of the word.



Among the more notable literary men who were also book-collectors of this period, whose libraries are still preserved intact, are Alexander Dyce and John Forster. Their collections, now at South Kensington, are perhaps more particularly notable for the extraordinary number of books which were once the property of famous men. Mr. Dyce, who was born in Edinburgh, June, 1798, and died in 1869, bequeathed to the Museum 14,000 books, whilst the library of his friend and executor, John Forster (1812-1876), contained upwards of 18,000 books, in addition to a number of autographs, pictures, etc. The more interesting books of a 'personal' nature in these two libraries are the following: Drayton's 'Battaile of Agincourt,' 1627, a presentation copy to Sir Henry Willoughby, with inscription in Drayton's autograph; a French cookery-book, with Gray's autograph on the title; Ben Jonson's copy (with his autograph) of the first collected edition of Marston's plays, 1633; a copy of Steele's 'Christian Hero,' with some verses in his autograph addressed to Dr. Ellis, Head-master of the Charterhouse when Steele was at school. Sheridan's plays include a presentation copy of 'The Rivals,' with an inscription to David Garrick. The foregoing are all in the Dyce Collection.