The bookselling fraternity had, however, obtained no definite footing until shortly after the middle of the eighteenth century, when James Almon began to acquire notoriety, his political fearlessness more than once bringing him at loggerheads with the authorities. When he first came to London, he worked as a printer at Watts', in Wild's Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields, where he had the frame which had been occupied by Benjamin Franklin. His shop was opposite Burlington House, and for many years this was the meeting-place of the leading Whig politicians. He died in 1805, and was succeeded by J. Debrett, a name still associated with publishing.

During the last few years of the last century, and probably in consequence of the greatly improved condition of the place, Piccadilly and neighbourhood became favourite spots with booksellers, the more notable being James Ridgway, whose 'repository of loyalty' was in York Street, St. James's Square, who died in 1838, aged eighty-three years; T. Hookham, Old Bond Street; and Stockdale, whose name will be for ever associated with that of Erskine in connection with the liberty of the press. Stockdale's shop, No. 178, Piccadilly, was for a long time in the possession of Thomas Thorpe; the place has since been rebuilt. R. Faulder, of New Bond Street, also deserves mention as being one of forty booksellers against whom actions were brought for selling the 'Baviad and Maeviad.' He is the Cunning Bookseller of Beloe, and appears to have been one of the most assiduous frequenters of 'forced' sales of household furniture, etc., where he often happened on books of rarity and value. He 'accumulated a very large property and retired,' but the auri sacra fames pursued him to the end. William Clarke, of New Bond Street, best remembered as the compiler of that very valuable work, 'Repertorium Bibliographicum,' 1819, was established as a bookseller in 1793. During the second half of the last century Samuel Parker and Walter Shropshire were selling second-hand books in New Bond Street. Thomas Beet, who retired from business ten years ago, was a well-known bookseller of Bond Street and Conduit Street, and was a considerable purchaser at the leading auction sales. He frequently had the honour of submitting various special old books for the inspection of the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and other members of the Royal Family, whilst his shop in Conduit Street was a very popular resort of bookish men.

Robert Dodsley, of Tully's Head, is one of the most famous of the Pall Mall booksellers. His shop was next to the passage leading into King Street, and now known as Pall Mall Place. He is perhaps better remembered as an author and compiler than as a bookseller, and best of all as a friend of Dr. Johnson, Pope, Spence, and other literary celebrities; he it was who first urged Johnson to start the famous 'Dictionary.' Dodsley died in 1764, and his business was taken over by his brother James, who survived the founder thirty-three years. The celebrated firm of G. and W. Nicol, booksellers to his Majesty, for many years carried on in Pall Mall in Dodsley's shop, originated with David Wilson and his nephew George Nicol, who started in the Strand about 1773, and who sold, inter alia, the library of Dr. Henry Sacheverell. George Nicol married the niece of the first Alderman Boydell, and was one of the executors of James Dodsley, who left him a legacy of L1,000. He is described as 'a most agreeable companion,' as a member of many of the literary clubs of his day, and enjoyed the friendly confidence of the Duke of Roxburghe, Duke of Grafton, and other eminent book-lovers. He died in Pall Mall, 1829, aged eighty-eight years. Nicol's stock was sold by auction at Evans's in 1825.



The most ancient book-business in Piccadilly is that of Hatchard's, which dates back to 1797. It was started by John Hatchard, who had been an assistant at Tom Payne's. Hatchard was patronized by Queen Charlotte, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Canning, and Dr. Keate. Hatchard is the Godly Bookseller of Beloe; he was a Conservative, dressed like a bishop, and published for Hannah More and the Evangelicals. Zachary Macaulay, Wilberforce, and the other opponents of slavery, once involved Hatchard in a libel action, in which he was found guilty. Hatchard published for Crabbe and for Tupper, and, according to Mr. Humphreys' interesting 'Piccadilly Bookmen,' Liston, Charles Kemble, and other actors, frequented the shop. So did the Duke of Wellington, who, 'when the library of the Duke's brother was sold at Evans's Auction Rooms in Pall Mall, where now stands the Carlton Club . . . sent several open commissions for books which he wished secured. Among these was a shilling pamphlet by A. G. Stapleton, with the late owner's notes in pencil. This was put up at 2s. 6d., and ultimately knocked down for L93 to Hatchard, the under-bidder being Sir A. Alison. The Duke, though very much astonished at the price such a mere fragment had fetched, yet admired the obedience to his orders.' The Horticultural Society took its rise in a meeting at Hatchard's, and he also seems to have lent his premises to the 'Outinian Society,' a species of matrimonial agency, which did not last long; but the wonder is how so respectable and cautious a personage ever harboured it. Among his assistants were Fraser, afterwards noted for his magazine, and Tilt.



The two great second-hand booksellers of the Piccadilly of the latter half of the present century are James Toovey and Bernard Quaritch. Toovey's shop at 177, Piccadilly (once occupied by William Pickering, the famous publisher), was for about forty years a favourite haunt of booksellers, for Toovey was a bibliophile as well as a bibliopole. His whole life was spent among books. He was apprenticed at fourteen to a bookseller, and for some time had a shop of his own in St. James's Street. He published Newman's 'Lives of the English Saints,' and other works by the leaders of the Tractarian movement, in addition to a very fine reprint of the 'Aberdeen Breviary,' of the original of which only four imperfect copies exist. An obituary notice describes him as 'very particularly the great authority on bindings. He made a strong speciality in old French red morocco bindings, and during his frequent visits to France brought back large buyings of them. Toovey bought notable books, but unless they had the second qualification of being in a good state, and the bindings valuable, he was less anxious about them. Given a notable book in a notable binding, he would buy it at almost any cost. When the present Mr. James Toovey—James Toovey fils—came into the business, he made a feature of those quaint sport and pastime books which every stroller along the south side of Piccadilly has been wont to stay and look at in Toovey's window. Ten years before his death the old man retired from the business in favour of his son, but his devotion to rare books and rare bindings was his ruling passion to the last. Toovey's, during its career, has known all the prominent book-hunters and a legion of eminent people who have been more than book-collectors. In the leisured times, Toovey's, like Hatchard's further along the street, was something of a resort for literary folk generally, and many people we who are younger are familiar with have been accustomed to find their way across Toovey's doorstep. Mr. Gladstone has visited the shop, and so has Cardinal Manning, and Prince Lucien Bonaparte, and Henry Huth often.' Having acquired a considerable fortune in business, he was able to indulge in the luxury, rare amongst booksellers, of collecting a private library for his own entertainment. He retired from active business several years ago, and passed his remaining days in the ever-delightful society of his bibliographical treasures. He died in September, 1893, in his eightieth year, and his stock of books came under the hammer at Sotheby's in March, 1894, when 3,200 lots realized just over L7,090. His very choice private library is still in the possession of his son, and among its chief cornerstones is the finest First Folio Shakespeare known. Toovey, like the elder Boone, secured many excessively rare books during his personal visits to the Continent. Pickering's son, Basil Montagu Pickering, remained with Toovey for a few years after his father retired, but eventually opened a shop on his own account at 196, Piccadilly, next to St. James's Church, and possessed at one time and another many exceedingly rare books. The name is still continued under the title of Pickering and Chatto, of 66, Haymarket, who continue to use the Aldine device employed both by William Pickering and his son. There is no Pickering in the present firm.



Of all second-hand booksellers, living or dead, Bernard Quaritch is generally conceded to be the king. Mr. Quaritch was born in 1819 at Worbis, Prussia, and after serving an apprenticeship to a bookseller came over to England in 1842, and obtained employment at H. G. Bohn's, with whom he remained (exclusive of two years in Paris) until 1847. He left Bohn's in April of that year, with the observation: 'Mr. Bohn, you are the first bookseller in England, but I mean to be the first bookseller in Europe.' Quaritch started with only his savings as capital, and his first catalogue was nothing more than a broadside, with the titles of about 400 books, the average price of which ranged from 1s. 6d. to 2s. His first big move was made in 1858, when the Bishop of Cashel's library was sold, when he purchased a copy of the Mazarin Bible for L595. In the same year appeared his first large catalogue of books, which comprised nearly 5,000 articles; two years later his catalogue had increased from 182 to 408 pages, and included close on 7,000 articles; in 1868 his complete catalogue consisted of 1,080 pages, and 15,000 articles; in 1880 it had extended to 2,395 pages, describing 28,000 books; but seven years later his General Catalogue consisted of 4,500 pages, containing 40,000 articles. As a purchaser, Mr. Quaritch puts the whilom considered gigantic purchases of Thomas Thorpe entirely into the shade. In July, 1873, he purchased the non-scientific part of the Royal Society's Norfolk Library; a few weeks later at the Perkins sale he bought books and manuscripts to the extent of L11,000; at the sale of Sir W. Tite's books in 1874 the Quaritch purchases amounted to L9,500; at the two Didot sales in 1878 and 1879 his purchases exceeded L11,000 in value; at the Beckford sale in 1882 a little more than half of the total (L86,000) was secured by Mr. Quaritch; at the Sunderland sale, 1881-83, Mr. Quaritch's bill came to over L33,000; at all the other great sales of the past twenty years the largest buyer has invariably been 'B. Q.' In an announcement 'To Book Lovers in all Parts of the World,' the Napoleon of bibliophiles makes the following statement: 'I am desirous of becoming recognised as their London agent by all men outside of England who want books. The need of such an agent is frequently felt abroad by the heads of literary institutions, librarians, and book-lovers generally. They shrink from giving trouble to a bookseller in matters which require more attention and effort than the mere furnishing of some specific article in his stock, and they must often wish that it were possible to have the services of a man of ability and experience at their constant command. Such services I freely offer to anyone who chooses to employ them; no fee is required to obtain them, and not a fraction will be added to the cost of the supplies. The friendly confidence which is necessarily extended to one's agent at a distance will undoubtedly in time bring an ample return for my labours, but so far as the present is concerned, I ask for nothing but the pleasure of attending to the wants of those who are as yet without an agent in London. Whether the books to be procured through my intervention be rare or common, single items or groups, the gems of literature and art or the popular books of the day, I shall be happy to work in every way for book-lovers of every degree. Commissions of any kind may be entrusted to me; I will venture to guarantee satisfaction in every case, even in the delicate matter of getting books appropriately bound. It may likewise be well to state that my offer of agency extends to the selling of foreign books here, as well as to the supply of English books hence.' There is not much that is architecturally beautiful about Mr. Quaritch's shop at 15, Piccadilly, but its interest to the book-lover needs but little emphasis after what has been said. Like all great men, Bernard Quaritch has his little eccentricities, into which we need not now enter. We apologize to him for publishing the following extract, which is, however, not our own, but comes (of course) from an American source: 'Bernard Quaritch's antiquated hat is a favourite theme with London and other bookmen. A committee of the Grolier Club once made a marvellous collection of newspaper clippings about it, and a member of the Societe des Bibliophiles Contemporains wrote a tragedy which was a parody of AEschylus. In this tragedy Power and Force and the god Hephaistos nail the hat on Mr. Quaritch's head, like the Titan on the summit of overhanging rocks. Divinities of the Strand and Piccadilly, in the guise of Oceanidae, try to console the hat; but less fortunate than Prometheus, the hat knows it is for ever nailed, and not to be rescued by Herakles. However, tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse, as Dumas said, for Mr. Quaritch has bought a new hat, and a journal of London announces that the epic hat is enshrined in glass in the bibliopole's drawing-room.'

One of the most modern of book-thoroughfares deserves a brief reference here. Charing Cross Road has for some years been a popular and successful resort of booksellers and book-hunters. It is within convenient reach of both the Strand and Holborn, and is only two or three minutes' walk from Piccadilly Circus. The books offered for sale here are, for the most part, priced at exceedingly moderate rates. Mr. Bertram Dobell may be regarded as the chief of the trade here, possessing, as he does, two large shops well filled with books of all descriptions. Mr. Dobell's catalogues are very carefully compiled, and possess a literary flavour by no means common; his lists of privately-printed books form a most valuable contribution to the bibliography of the subject. Mr. John Lawler, for many years chief cataloguer at Puttick's, and more recently at Sotheby's, had a shop in Charing Cross Road, which he has just given up; and Mr. A. E. Cooper, who makes a speciality of first editions of modern authors and curious and out-of-the-way books, both French and English.



FOOTNOTES:

[176:A] Sewell, Cornhill, and Becket and De Hondt, Strand, were among the last to use these curious trade signs.

[192:A] The identical book with which Johnson knocked down Osborne, 'Biblia Graeca Septuaginta,' folio, 1594, Frankfort, was at Cambridge in February, 1812, in the possession of J. Thorpe, bookseller, who afterwards catalogued it.

[192:B] Timbs, writing in the Gentleman's Magazine in 1868, identified the house at which Tonson probably lived, and this house was in Timbs's time a bookseller's. Gray's Inn Lane has become so thoroughly renovated and improved that it is no longer possible to point to any particular spot where any celebrity lived.

[201:A] 'One day [writes Lytton] three persons were standing before an old bookstall in a passage leading from Oxford Street into Tottenham Court Road. Two were gentlemen; the third, of the class and appearance of those who more habitually halt at old bookstalls.

'"Look," said one of the gentlemen to the other; "I have discovered here what I have searched for in vain the last ten years—the Horace of 1580, the Horace of the Forty Commentators—a perfect treasury of learning, and marked only fourteen shillings!"

'"Hush, Norreys," said the other, "and observe what is yet more worth your study;" and he pointed to the third bystander, whose face, sharp and attenuated, was bent with an absorbed, and, as it were, with a hungering attention over an old worm-eaten volume.

'"What is the book, my lord?" whispered Mr. Norreys.

'His companion smiled, and replied by another question: "What is the man who reads the book?"

'Mr. Norreys moved a few paces, and looked over the student's shoulder. "'Preston's Translation of Boethius,' 'The Consolations of Philosophy,'" he said, coming back to his friend.

'"He looks as if he wanted all the consolations philosophy could give him, poor boy!"

* * * * *

'When Mr. Norreys had bought the Horace, and given an address where to send it, Harley (the second gentleman) asked the shopman if he knew the young man who had been reading Boethius.

'"Only by sight. He has come here every day the last week, and spends hours at the stall. When once he fastens on a book, he reads it through."

'"And never buys?" said Mr. Norreys.

'"Sir," said the shopman, with a good-natured smile, "they who buy seldom read. The poor boy pays me twopence a day to read as long as he pleases. I would not take it, but he is proud."'

[202:A] It was in one of these alleys or tributaries that a lawyer's clerk, returning from his office, carried home in triumph to Camden Town a copy of Marlowe's 'Tragical History of Doctor Faustus,' 1663, which he bought for 1s.

[217:A] Concerning the Hande and Starre, Fleet Street, and the renowned Richard Tottell, 'printer by special Patentes of the bokes of the Common Lawe in the several Reigns of King Edw. VI. and of the quenes Marye and Elizabeth,' it may be pointed out that this house, 7, Fleet Street, exists as before, the only modern addition being the half-brick front which was placed there more than a hundred years ago. Jaggard, the bookseller, lived there after Tottell, and from thence he issued the first edition of Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet,' actually printed in the rear (now Dick's Coffee-house), and the possibility of Shakespeare having often called to correct the proof-sheets is conjured up. The house was in turn occupied by many eminent law publishers and booksellers, and of late years by the late Mr. Henry Butterworth, who became himself the Queen's law publisher.

[237:A] One of the reviewers of Nichols' 'Literary Anecdotes' says: 'How often have we seen him standing betwixt these, bidding "his friends good-morrow with a cheerful face," and pulling down his ruffles, already too long, till they covered his fingers. Davies had, even while in common conversation, as much of the old school of acting in his manner as his friend Gibson had upon the stage; though he is said not to have been so pompous as Berry, to whose parts he succeeded; and Berry, in this respect, was thought to have declined from Bridgewater.'

[237:B] Now covered by Charing Cross Hospital. At the commencement of the third quarter of the sixteenth century, Thomas Colwell, a bookseller, had a shop at the sign of 'St. John the Evangelist,' in St. Martin's parish, near Charing-Cross, and a shop with the same sign in Fleet Street, near the Conduit. It must be remembered that at this period Holborn and Charing Cross were quite suburban villages, the former noteworthy as the thoroughfare from Newgate to Tyburn, and the latter as a sort of halfway place of stoppage between the City and Westminster.

[241:A] Not quite so unprecedented as Mr. Dibdin thought. The Grub Street Journal of February 3, 1731, contained an entire page devoted to the books advertisement of Tom Osborne, a much more remarkable feat, all things considered, than Thorpe's.



WOMEN AS BOOK-COLLECTORS.

IT seems a curiously contradictory fact that, although Englishwomen are on the whole greater readers than men, they are, as book-collectors or bibliophiles, an almost unknown quantity. In France this is not the case, and several books have been published there on the subject of les femmes bibliophiles. An analysis of their book-possessions, however, leads one to the conclusion that with them their sumptuously-bound volumes partake more of the nature of bijouterie than anything else. Many of the earlier of these bibliophiles were unendowed with any keen appreciation for intellectual pursuits, and they collected pretty books just as they would collect pretty articles of feminine decoration. They therefore form a little community which can scarcely be included in the higher category of intellectual book-collectors. It would be much easier to assert that Englishwomen differ from Frenchwomen in this respect than it would be to back up the assertion with material proof. Indeed, after all that could possibly be said in favour of our own countrywomen as book-collectors, we fear that it would not amount to very much. It is certain that our history does not afford any name of the first importance, certainly none which can be classed with Anne of Austria (wife of Louis XIII.), the Duchesse de Berry, Catherine de Medicis, Christina of Sweden, Diane de Poitiers, the Comtesse Du Barry, Marie Antoinette, the Marquise de Pompadour, or of at least a dozen others whose names immediately suggest themselves. The only English name, in fact, worthy to be classed with the foregoing is that of Queen Elizabeth, who, in addition to her passion for beautiful books, may also be regarded as a genuine book-lover and reader.

There were, however, Englishwomen who collected books long before Elizabeth's time. In the year 1355, Elizabeth de Burgh, Lady of Clare—the foundress of Clare Hall, Cambridge—bequeathed to her foundation 'Deux bons antiphoners chexun ove un grayel (Gradule) en mesme le volum, 1 bone legende, 1 bone messale, bien note, 1 autre messale coverte de blank quir, 1 bone bible coverte de noir quir, 1 hugueion [? Hugh de Voraeillis on the Decretals], 1 legende sanctorum, 1 poire de decretals, 1 livre des questions, et xxii quaires d'un livre appella, De causa Dei contra Pelagianos.'

About seventy years after Elizabeth de Burgh's bequest, we learn that in 1424 the Countess of Westmoreland presented a petition to the Privy Council representing that the late King Henry had borrowed from her a book containing the Chronicles of Jerusalem and the Expedition of Godfrey of Boulogne, and praying that an order might be issued under the Privy Seal for the restoration of the said book. With much formality the petition was granted. But we might go back several hundred years prior to either of these dates, for the Abbess Eadburga not only transcribed books herself and kept several scholars for a similar purpose, but fed the bibliomaniacal zeal of Boniface, the Saxon missionary, by presenting him with a number of books. Appropriately enough, he presented the Abbess on one occasion with a silver pen.

Two historic illuminated manuscripts, formerly the property of distinguished women, were sold from the Fountaine Collection at Christie's, in July, 1894. The more interesting item was Henry VIII.'s own copy of the 'Psalmes or Prayers taken out of Holye Scripture,' printed on vellum, by Thomas Berthelet, 1544. This book is of great historic interest. Shortly before his death he gave it to his daughter, Princess Mary (afterwards Queen Mary), who subsequently presented it to Queen Catherine Parr, with the following inscription: 'Madame, I shall desyer yor grace most humbly to accepte thys ritde hande and unworthy whose harte and servyce unfaynedly you shall be seur of duryng my lyf contynually. Your most humble dowghter and servant, Marye.' On the back of the leaf containing the foregoing inscription is written: 'Mors est ingressus quidam immortalis future quae tamen est maxime horribilis carni Catherina Regina K. P.' On a small piece of vellum inside the cover the King has written: 'Myne owne good daughter I pray you remember me most hartely wen you in your prayers do shew for grace, to be attayned assurydly to yor lovyng fader. Henry R.' This book contains quite a number of other inscriptions by Henry, Catherine, and others, and is, on the whole, of peculiarly striking interest. It was purchased by Mr. Quaritch for 610 guineas. A beautiful companion to the foregoing is a manuscript 'Horae' of the fifteenth century, on very pure vellum, consisting of 176 leaves (8-1/2 inches by 6 inches). This manuscript formerly belonged to Margaret, mother of King Henry VII., and has at the end this inscription, in her handwriting, addressed to Lady Shyrley, to whom she presented it:

'My good Lady Shyrley pray for Me that gevythe you thys booke, And hertely pray you (Margaret) Modyr to the kynge.'

Margaret, Countess of Richmond and Derby, was the only daughter and heir of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, and was not only distinguished for her piety and charity, but was a great patron of Caxton, whose successor, Wynkyn de Worde, styled himself 'Her printer.' This beautiful manuscript was probably written and illuminated by her command in the reign of her son, Henry VII. It realized L350.



For all practical purposes, Queen Elizabeth may be regarded as the first distinguished femme bibliophile. Of this truculent and strong-minded personage much has been written, and it is scarcely likely that there is much unpublished material respecting her library. It is not necessary nor desirable to enter exhaustively into even so fascinating a topic. A few generalizations will not, however, be unwelcome. The books which she possessed before she ascended the throne are excessively rare, and even those owned by her after that event are by no means common. Elizabeth herself embroidered several books with her own hands, the most beautiful example of her work being a copy of the Epistles of St. Paul, now at the Bodleian. The black silk binding is covered with devices embroidered by the Princess during her sequestration at Woodstock, representing the Judgment of Solomon and the Brazen Serpent, and these have been reproduced by Dibdin in 'Bibliomania.' From an inventory published in Archaeologia we learn that, in the sixteenth year of her reign, the Queen possessed a book of the Evangelists, of which the covers were decorated with a crucifix and with her arms in silver, weighing, with the wood corners, 112 ounces. Among the books which the notorious Libri 'conveyed' were two which appear to have belonged to Elizabeth, first a volume containing Fenestella's 'De Magistratibus Sacerdotusque Romanorum' (1549), and another tract, which realized L5; and Jones's 'Arte and Science of Preserving Bodie and Soul in Healthe, Wisdome, and Catholicke Religion' (1579), beautifully bound 'a petit fers,' which realized close on L20.



The British Museum contains several books, including one or two very beautiful ones, which were formerly the Queen's, and among these perhaps the most notable is an imperfect copy of Coverdale's New Testament (circa 1538). Upon the inside of the cover is the following manuscript note: 'This small book was once the property of Q. Elizabeth, and actually presented by her to A. Poynts, who was her maid of Honor. In it are a few lines of the Queen's own hand writing and signing. Likewise a small drawing of King Edward the 6th when very young [of Windsor Castle] and one of the Knights in his robes.' The 'few lines' of the Queen's are as follows: 'Amonge good thinges I prove and finde, the quiet life dothe muche abounde and sure to the contentid mynde, ther is no riches may be founde your lovinge mistress Elizabeth.' An interesting point is raised in the Library (ii. 65, 66), by Mr. W. G. Hardy, relative to the books of the Earl of Essex, which were believed to have become the property of Elizabeth after the unfortunate favourite's execution in 1601. The finest as well as the best known of the Queen's embroidered books, now in the British Museum, is Archbishop Parker's 'De Antiquitate Ecclesiae Britannicae,' 1572, presented by the author to Elizabeth, for whom also he had it specially bound. It is covered in green velvet. We give facsimiles of the two sides of the cover of the manual of prayers which the Queen is said to have carried about with her, attached by a gold chain to her girdle. It is bound in gold and enamelled, said to be the workmanship of George Heriot. The prayers were printed by A. Barker, 1574. The front side of the cover contains a representation of the raising of the serpent in the wilderness; whilst on the back is represented the judgment of Solomon. This book was for many years in the Duke of Sussex's collection; it was sold with the rest of the collection of the late George Field, at Christie's, June 13, 1893, for 1,220 guineas, to Mr. C. J. Wertheimer.



The Marquis of Salisbury's library at Hatfield contains a number of books which belonged to two distinguished ladies of the Elizabethan period. Lady M. Burghley's many book-treasures included a number of learned works which we do not usually associate with the women of the time. There were, for instance, Basil, 'Orationes,' 1556; Bodin, 'La Republique,' 1580; Erasmus, 'De Copia Verborum,' 1573; Fernelius, 'Medecina,' 1554; Hemming, 'Commentarius in Ephesios,' 1574; Haddon, 'Contra Osorium,' 1557; Jasparus, 'Encomium,' 1546; Valerius, 'Tabulae Dialectices,' 1573; Velcurio, 'Commentarius in Aristotelis,' 1573; Whitgift's 'Answer to Cartwright,' 1574, and several others. A few of the books which were once possessed by Anne Cecil (sister of Sir Robert Cecil), Countess of Oxford, are also at Hatfield, notably a 'Grammaire Francaise,' 1559, and an edition of Cicero 'Epitres Familieres.'



During the eighteenth century, the taste for books was by no means uncommon among women, although only a bold man would declare that that period produced a genuine femme bibliophile. The idea of a lady's library was first suggested by Addison in the Spectator, No. 37. In No. 79 Steele takes up the thread of the subject, to which Addison returns in No. 92, and Steele again in No. 140. These papers created a want which Richard Steele, with a doubly benevolent object, essayed to fill. 'The Ladies' Library,' ostensibly 'written by a lady,' and 'published by Mr. Steele,' was issued by Jacob Tonson in 1714. It was in three volumes, each of which had a separate dedication; the first is addressed to the Countess of Burlington, the second to Mrs. Bovey, a learned and very beautiful widow, by some supposed to be identical with Sir Roger de Coverley's obdurate veuve, whilst the third, in a strain of loyal and affectionate eulogy, is to Steele's own wife, who may be supposed to be depicted in Du Guernier's frontispiece in the first volume. The 'Ladies' Library' and the Spectator papers assist us somewhat in forming an opinion as to the most popular books among the ladies of the earlier part of the last century. The library of the lady whom Addison visited is described as arranged in a very beautiful order. 'At the end of the folios (which were finely bound and gilt) were great jars of china, placed one above the other, in a very noble piece of architecture. The quartos were separated from the octavos by a pile of smaller vessels, which rose in a delightful pyramid. The octavos were bounded by tea dishes of all shapes, colours and sizes. . . . That part of the library designed for the reception of plays and pamphlets was inclosed in a kind of square, consisting of one of the prettiest grotesque works that ever I saw, and made up of scaramouches, lions, monkeys, and a thousand odd figures in chinaware. In the midst of the room was a little Japan table, with a quire of gilt paper upon it, and on the paper a silver snuff-box fashioned in the shape of a little book.' On the upper shelves Addison noticed the presence of a number of other counterfeit volumes, all the classic authors, and a set of the Elzevir first editions in wood, only the titles meant to be read. Among the books Addison mentions are Virgil, Juvenal, Sir Isaac Newton's works, Locke on 'Human Understanding,' a spelling-book, a dictionary for the explanation of hard words, Sherlock on 'Death,' 'The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony,' Father Malebranche's 'Search after Truth,' 'A Book of Novels' [? Mrs. Behn's], 'The Academy of Compliments,' 'Clelia,' 'Advice to a Daughter,' 'The New Atalantis' (with key), a Prayer-book (with a bottle of Hungary water by the side of it), Dr. Sacheverel's speech, Fielding's Trial, Seneca's 'Morals,' Taylor's 'Holy Living and Dying,' and La Ferte's 'Instruction for Country Dances,' etc.



The list is a quaint bit of Addisonian satire, almost worthy to rank by the side of Sir Roger de Coverley. Addison had no very elevated opinion of the intellectual gifts of his women contemporaries, as the juxtaposition of the Prayer-book with the bottle of Hungary waters (a popular stimulating perfume of the day) shows. The books above named were at that time to be found in nearly every gentleman's library, and that they should be found in the possession of women is not surprising. Addison's 'intellectual lady' and her library are a fiction, but a charming fiction withal. In spite of the literary glories of her reign, 'Glorious Anna' can scarcely be regarded as a book-collector. Queen Caroline, the consort of George II., was an enthusiastic bibliophile. Her library was preserved until recently in a building adjoining the Green Park, called the Queen's Library, and subsequently the Duke of York's. An interior view of the building is given in Pyne's 'Royal Residences.' We give on page 267 a reproduction of one of the earliest English bookplates engraved for a lady. It was discovered a few years ago in a volume of title-pages collected by John Bagford, and now in the British Museum. Of Elizabeth Pindar as a book-collector, or, indeed, as anything else, we are without any record.



The present century has produced two of the most distinguished femmes bibliophiles which this country has ever known. The earlier collector, Miss Richardson Currer (1785-1861), of Eshton Hall, in the Deanery of Craven, York, was the owner of an exceedingly rich library of books. Of these, two catalogues were printed. The first, in 1820, under the superintendence of Robert Triphook, extended to 308 pages; the second was drawn up by C. J. Stewart in 1833. That of the latter included four steel engravings of her library. This library was especially strong in British history, and it included a copy on vellum of the St. Albans reprint of Caxton's 'Chronicle' (wanting only the last leaf), which realized L365 at her sale; of Higden's 'Polychronicon,' printed by Caxton, 1482 (not quite perfect); one of the most perfect copies of Coverdale's Bible, 1535, which sold for L250; of Norden's 'Voyage d'Egypte,' on large paper, and many other fine books. It was also rich in natural science, topography, and antiquities. Dibdin describes her as 'at the head of all the female collectors of Europe.' Miss Currer, who suffered from deafness, was an intimate friend of Richard Heber, and it was rumoured at one time that this distinguished bibliomaniac was engaged to be married to Miss Currer, but the event did not transpire. Miss Currer's books were sold at Sotheby's in July and August, 1862, and realized nearly L6,000, the 2,681 lots occupying ten days in selling. Miss Currer was great-niece of Dr. Richardson, whose correspondence was edited by Dawson Turner in 1835. Two of the views of Miss Currer's fine library in Stewart's catalogue are reproduced by Dibdin in his 'Literary Reminiscences.'

Before passing on to the second famous lady book-collector—Mrs. John Rylands—a few more or less important names may be mentioned in connection with the subject. In August, 1835, Evans sold the 'valuable' library of the late Dowager Lady Elcho, but as her books were mixed with other properties, it is not now possible to distinguish one from the other. Lady Mark Sykes' musical library was sold at Puttick's in March, 1847, and eleven months later Sotheby sold some valuable books and books of prints, the property of a Miss Hamlet. H.R.H. the Princess Elizabeth, Landgravine of Hesse-Homburg, and daughter of George III., was a confirmed book-collector, and her library, divided into 1,606 lots, came under the hammer at Sotheby's in April, 1863. It occupied four days in disposal, and realized L915 12s. 6d. The books, which were chiefly in elegant bindings, were for the most part illustrated works, illuminated manuscripts, and books dealing with a very wide variety of topics; whilst many of them had an extraneous value from the fact that they contained signatures and interesting notes of the Princess and other members of the Royal Family. The libraries of the late Lady Francis Vernon Harcourt (August, 1873); of the late Mrs. Ellis, of Bernard Street, Russell Square (November, 1871); and of the late Miss Beckles (December, 1868), have been dispersed at Sotheby's. Lady Morgan's library, comprising the principal works in French, English, and Italian literature, and many scarce and curious books relating to Irish history—many of the books had the owner's autograph—was sold at the same place in April, 1863, but the 396 lots only realized L70. The library of another literary woman, Miss Agnes Strickland, the historian of the Queens of England, was dispersed at the same place in May, 1876, when a few hundred books realized L60. Some very choice books (many of them enriched with the notes of H. T. Buckle) were included in the portion of the library of the late Mrs. Benzon, of 10, Kensington Palace Gardens, sold at Sotheby's on June 14, 1880, when 379 lots realized over L775. Some books from Mrs. Jameson's library were sold at Puttick's in October, 1882, the more important items being annotated or extra-illustrated copies of her own books. The collection formed by Miss Drummond, of Berkeley Square, Bristol, and sold at Sotheby's in May, 1862 (1,339 lots realizing L1,316 6s.), was a remarkably choice library, the whole in elegant bindings, presenting a great variety of patterns, tooled in gold, with appropriate devices and other decorations. There were splendid 'Galleries,' and books of 'picturesque sceneries,' magnificent volumes on natural history, some beautiful Persian manuscripts, and the best works in standard literature. Mrs. Brassey, of Lower Seymour Street, had some good books, which were sold by Bates on December 23, 1814, and included 'The Golden Legend,' by Caxton, which realized 93 guineas.

Mrs. John Rylands is the widow of the late Mr. John Rylands, of Longford Hall, near Manchester. Mrs. Rylands' career as a femme bibliophile may be briefly summarised thus: In 1889 this lady formed the plan of erecting in Manchester a memorial to her late husband, which should embody one main purpose of his life, as carried out by him very unostentatiously, but with great delight, during the greater part of his career. To make the highest literature accessible to the people was with him a cherished aim, and it was accordingly resolved by his widow that the memorial should be in the form of a library. To this end Mrs. Rylands took into her confidence four gentlemen whose names are well known, and for whom the late Mr. Rylands had the greatest respect and admiration, namely, the Rev. Dr. S. G. Green, of London; the late Rev. Dr. MacFadyen, of Manchester; Mr. W. Carnelly and Mr. W. Linnell, both also of Manchester, with whose aid the preliminaries for carrying out her purpose were speedily arranged. The site in Deansgate, lying between Wood Street and Spinningfield, was purchased, and after visits to several great libraries and other public buildings, Mrs. Rylands instructed the architect of Mansfield College, Oxford, Mr. Basil Champneys, of London, to execute plans for a suitable structure, to bear the name of the John Rylands Library. About the same time she commenced the purchase of books, being aided in this by her friend, Mr. J. Arnold Green, son of the Rev. Dr. Green, who, putting himself in communication with various agents, collected a large number of standard books in English and foreign literatures, including early Bibles, first editions, and many other rare and valuable works, with several choice manuscripts and autographs. The number of volumes purchased reached many thousands, one of the acquisitions being the celebrated copy of the 'Biblia Pauperum,' once belonging to the Borghese Library in Rome, at the sale of which it fetched 15,800 francs. Up to this time a considerable amount had been spent. When the announcement was made in 1892 that Earl Spencer, the owner of the Althorp Library, was willing to dispose of that famous collection, Mrs. Rylands at once felt that its possession would be the crown of her whole scheme—accomplishing it with a completeness of which she never dreamed when first she formed her plans. Mr. Arnold Green accordingly at once communicated on her behalf with Mr. Railton, of Messrs. Sotheran and Co., a firm which had been largely employed by her in previous purchases of books. The result is that the Althorp Library passed into Mrs. Rylands' possession, the price paid being close on a quarter of a million sterling. The transaction is by far the largest of its kind which has ever taken place in this or any other country. It has been calculated that the Althorp Library cost its founder about L100,000, and that it should have more than doubled in value in less than a century is an extremely gratifying fact. It contains a large number of unique and excessively rare books, which nothing short of an upheaval in this country similar to the French Revolution could place on the market. Those who depend upon such a contingency to obtain a few of these splendid books are likely to wait for a very long time.

But even with the striking examples of Miss Currer and Mrs. Rylands before us, the conclusion still forces itself upon one that the femme bibliophile is an all but unknown quantity. The New Woman may develop into a genuine book-lover; it is certain that the old one will not. The Chinese article of belief that women have no souls has, after all, something in its favour.

Bookstall-keepers have a deep contempt for women who patronize them by turning over their books without purchasing. It would not be possible to repeat all the hard things they say about the sex. In the words of one: 'They hang around and read the books, and though I have a man to watch them, while he is driving away one another is reading a chapter. They can read a chapter in a minute.' 'Does that not interest them in the book, so that they buy it?' asked an interlocutor. 'No, sir; it don't. It only makes them go to the other stall and read the last chapter there. Not once in a blue moon, sir, does womenfolk buy a book. A penny weekly is what they buy, and before they fix on one they read half a dozen. You take my word for it, sir, it takes a woman half an hour to spend a penny at a bookstall.' A characteristic incident once happened to an old judge's clerk who had a stall a few years ago in Gray's Inn Road. A lady, with whom there were two or three children, after waiting about the pavement, at length suddenly became interested in the humble bookstall. Several pretty picture-books attracted the attention of the children, and they became clamorous to possess them. The stall-keeper, in the politest possible manner, offered the books at her own price. The reply was: 'Oh no, thanks. We are only looking over the books to kill time.' 'Much obliged to you, ma'am, for your kindness and consideration,' was the prompt reply.



BOOK THIEVES, BORROWERS, AND KNOCK-OUTS.

'FACILIS descensus Averni' might well be the motto for any article or chapter dealing with the above comprehensive 'avocations.' Once started on his career, the book-thief may be regarded as entirely lost. At the Middlesex Sessions a few years ago a genius of the name of Terry was sentenced to six years' imprisonment for stealing books. On inquiry it was found that this same person had already been in prison six times, two terms of eighteen months each, one term of five years' penal servitude, and another of seven years, all for stealing books.

Each thief has his own special modus operandi, which he varies according to circumstances. There are those who do it without any adventitious aid, and those who cover their sin with various accessories. First, the ordinary book-thief, who watches his opportunity when the shopkeeper is not looking, and simply slips the book quickly under his coat and departs. This method is plain and simple in execution, but sometimes dangerous in practice. Then there is the man who wears an overcoat, the lining of the pocket of which he has previously removed, so that he can pass his hand right through while apparently only standing still looking on, with his hands quietly in his pocket, possibly with one hand openly touching something, whilst the other is earning his dinner.



An amusing incident was once the experience of a London bookseller. While sitting behind his counter inside the shop, he was amazed one day at seeing a man running at a tremendous rate, and, momentarily slackening his speed to seize a book off the stall, he had disappeared before the astounded bookseller was able to get to the door. And it is remarkable that, though many people were about, no one seems to have noticed the thief take the book, though they saw him running. Another favourite device is to carry a newspaper in the hand, and when no one is looking deposit the paper on a carefully-selected book within the folds; or having an overcoat carried on the arm to quickly hide something under cover of it. This latter method requires, of course, a well-to-do-looking man, and obviously is chiefly confined to the stealers of the higher class of valuable books. It also requires, like every well-managed business, a certain amount of capital, for it is absolutely necessary—in order to lull suspicion—that small purchases should be made from time to time in the hunting-ground that has been chosen for the season.



Then there is the mean man who, having money, is yet lacking in the will to spend it. Such individuals in these days of disguising bad deeds under grand names are euphemistically designated kleptomaniacs. Most London booksellers have had experience of this class. It is a known fact that a literary man whose name is familiar to many readers was expelled from the reading-room of the British Museum for this sort of conduct, stealing small trifling things that could easily have been bought, and mutilating other books by cutting out passages which he was too lazy to transcribe, and too mean, although a well-to-do man, to employ an amanuensis.

'Steal?' quoth ancient Pistol. 'Foh! a fico for the phrase. Convey the wise it call.' Had Pistol lived in these days he would have said, 'Kleptomania the wise it call.' Some years ago there resided in the West End of London a Belgian gentleman well known in literary circles, and a man of good position to boot. He possessed a valuable library, and was a frequent visitor at shops where he could add to his collections. One dealer noticed that, whenever Monsieur Y. called upon him, one or two valuable books mysteriously disappeared, and he was not long before he arrived at the conclusion that his Belgian customer appropriated his wares without attending to the customary, but disagreeable, process of exchanging the coin of the realm for his bargains. Our friend the dealer, an honest but remarkably plain-spoken and fearless individual, made careful notes of all his losses and their prices.

One day he stopped Monsieur Y. just as he was leaving the shop, and remarked that he might as well pay for the little volumes he had stowed away in the pockets of the capacious overcoat he almost invariably wore. Great was the assumed indignation of the Belgian bibliophile, who asserted that he had no books on him but those he had already accounted for. 'Come, come,' said the dealer, 'that won't do; I left you alone in the room upstairs, but I watched you through the door, and saw you pocket the books, of which the price is so much. Unless you pay for them I shall send for a policeman; and whilst I am on the topic you may as well settle for those other books you have taken from my shelves at various times.' Here he produced his list, with the prices all affixed, and a certain small sum added by way of interest. Hereupon Monsieur Y. stormed and raved, swore it was an attempt to extort money from him, and threatened legal proceedings. 'If,' said the dealer, 'you can empty your pockets now without producing any book of mine, except those you have paid for, I will withdraw my claim and apologize, otherwise I shall at once send my man' (whom he then called) 'for a policeman.' Whereupon Monsieur Y. paid the full claim, walked out of the shop, and never entered it again. But the catalogues were regularly sent to him, and as the dealer constantly had books that he required, he ordered what he wanted by post, so that in the long-run the bookseller really lost little or nothing by his boldness. The same bookseller complained that people often ordered his books but neglected to pay for them, whilst intending purchasers who meant to pay ready money, and called at the shop for the books, had to be sent away disconsolate, sometimes after having come long distances to secure the long-wished-for volume. 'But first come, first served, is my motto, and if six orders come for the same book, it goes to the man whose letter or card I first receive.' A sturdy John Bull sort of man this, with a great knowledge of books, who has had to fight a long uphill battle, and is perhaps one of the best-known men in the trade.

An awkward incident for the thief happened once. A bookseller, the proprietor of two or three shops, was in one of them, when a person entered and offered for sale a couple of books. The proprietor recognised one of them as being his property, he having that morning sent it to the other of his shops, from which it had been apparently almost immediately removed. When questioned, the intending vendor pretended to be much insulted, and asserted the book had been in his possession for some considerable time, and even threatened the bookseller, when he insisted on detaining the book, with the police. This was rather unfortunate, for at that moment a constable passing by was called in, and, in spite of a great deal of bluster and many threats, the thief was marched off to the nearest police-station. The other book, it was found, had also been stolen that morning from another shop, and the result was four months' imprisonment.

The remarkable fact is that book-thieves are nearly always well-to-do people; if hunger induced them to steal a book to get a dinner, they would come in the category of ordinary thieves. If they stole books because they wanted to read them, and were unable to pay for them, one might overlook their crime. One of the most remarkable illustrations of the past few years is that in which an ex-lieutenant in the Royal Scots Greys was implicated. The books belonged to a lady who had let her house to the prisoner's father. She left a number of books, which were in three bookcases. They were locked, and contained valuable books. She was informed (so runs the report) that several of the books were missing, and a few weeks after she saw a number of books, including Ruskin's 'Stones of Venice' and 'Modern Painters,' which she identified as her property. The law was put into motion, and the case came into the courts. The value of the two books mentioned she estimated at L60, and the other books at L50. Mr. Reeves, bookseller, then of 196, Strand, deposed that he could identify the prisoner, and on June 21 he purchased five volumes of Ruskin's 'Modern Painters,' and gave a cheque for L16. He understood that the accused had come into possession of them through a death. On that occasion the prisoner asked the witness what he would give for three volumes of 'The Stones of Venice.' Witness offered him L9. On June 28 the prisoner brought the book, and finding it not to be in such good condition, witness offered him L7 10s. This was accepted, and witness handed a cheque to the prisoner for that amount. Witness bought other books from the prisoner for L3 2s. 6d. Mr. Reeves said that he sold 'Modern Painters' for L18, and 'The Stones of Venice' for L8 10s.

Here is another illustration, gleaned from the Greenwich Police Court: A person, forty-six, of ladylike appearance, and no occupation, was charged at Greenwich with stealing a book, valued 4d., from outside the shop of Charles Humphreys, 114, South Street. She was seen to take a book from a stall, place it in a novelette, and walk away. Prosecutor followed, stopped her, and said, 'I've got you now.' She cried out, 'Oh, for God's sake, don't, don't! Let me pay for it.' But he said, 'No, not for L5, as you are an old thief.' At her house he found over a hundred books bearing his private mark, but he could not swear that they had not been bought. Once he bought some books from the prisoner which she had stolen from his shop, but he did not know that when he bought them. Prisoner pleaded guilty to stealing one book, and on her behalf a solicitor produced a certificate from a medical man, stating that she was suffering from general weakness of system, loss of appetite, sleeplessness, and evident mental disorder. Those symptoms he attributed to causes which induced the magistrate to deal leniently, and a fine of L5 was imposed.



About a couple of years ago, two maiden sisters, Grace and Blanche ——, were charged at Bow Street with theft. To all appearances they were highly respectable members of the community. Grace was seventy-four; Blanche had only seen sixty summers. They visited Shoolbred's, apparently wanting to buy some Prayer-books and Bibles. They looked at many, but none suited them. They left without purchasing anything, no suspicions being aroused on the part of the attendants. But Detective Butler and Constable 173 D, who had taken great interest in the old ladies' movements, saw Grace hand a Book of Common Prayer, a hymn-book, and ladies' companion to her sister. Shoolbred's manager identified the articles as the property of the firm, but declined to prosecute on account of the old ladies' ages. Grace admitted the theft, but said she did not know what she was doing. A small fine was inflicted.

Even so astute a tradesman as Bernard Quaritch has been victimized by the book-thief. These are his own words: 'A little dark man, of about forty-five years of age, with a sallow complexion, apparently a Dutch or German Jew, speaking in broken English in an undertone, introduced himself, showing me a business card, "Wunderlich and Co." The following day the pretended Wunderlich selected books from my stock to the amount of L270, and said he would come again and select more. At the same time the little dark, sallow man saw, but refused to buy, a very sweet little "Livre d'Heures," with lovely miniatures in camaieu-gris, bound in black morocco, with silver clasp. The price of this lovely MS. was 50 guineas. Since then this mysterious little dark man has disappeared, and my very sweet little "Livre d'Heures," with its lovely miniatures, has disappeared also.'

In 1891 Messrs. Sotheran and Co. discovered that a number of rare books had been abstracted from their Strand shop, including a first edition of Burns's 'Poems,' 1786; Shakespeare's 'Poems,' 1640, first edition, with portrait by Marshall, and eleven extra leaves at the end; Heywood's 'Thyestes of Seneca,' 1560; and Piers Plowman's 'Vision and Crede,' 1561—all choice volumes. The Burns was valued at L30, and this was traced a month or two after its sudden disappearance to a bookbinder, who offered it to Mrs. Groves, who, however, wisely declined to lend money on it. Subsequently the book was sent to Mr. Pearson, Exmouth, who, knowing it had been stolen, at once communicated with the prosecutors. Two of the other books were traced to New York, and were returned to the firm at cost price. The enterprising bookbinder received twelve months' hard.

Mr. Waller, the bookseller, formerly of Fleet Street, relates a rather amusing incident connected with Thackeray: 'I think it was a book of "Services" in four small volumes, two of which he already possessed, and one, completing the set, he saw in my window. He came in, said he wanted that book, and gleefully told how he had picked up the third a few minutes before in Holywell Street. He dived into his pocket to show me his precious "find." It was not there! Between Holywell Street and Fleet Street someone had relieved him of it, in the belief, apparently, that it was an ordinary pocket-book with valuables in it!'



A by no means uncommon person is what may be described as the conscientious thief, or the man who steals one book and replaces it by another, which he considers to be of equal value. But a much cleverer dodge was that of a wily villain who selected a book from the stock of a firm of booksellers in the Strand, asking one member of the firm to charge it to him, and then selling it to the other partner at the opposite end of the shop a few minutes later! This can scarcely be described as book-stealing, for there is no proof that the 'book-lover' did not intend paying for the article ultimately. In this case the assumption was distinctly against his doing anything of the sort.

It will be seen from the foregoing facts that the book-thief hesitates at no class of book. But would he draw the line at stealing a book which deals with thieves? The late Charles Reade appears to have thought that he would not, for he has inscribed not only his name, but the following somewhat plaintive request, 'Please not to steal this book; I value it,' in a volume which Mr. Menken once possessed. The book in question is entitled 'Inventaire general de L'Histoire des Larrons,' Rouen, 1657. This singular work gives at length the stratagems, tricks, and artifices, the thefts of and assassinations by thieves, with a full account of their most memorable exploits in France. One cannot help wondering if a copy of this extraordinary book has ever been stolen from a book-collector, and of the remorse which must have overtaken the thief when he discovered the character of his prize. That indeed would be a strange irony!

But the book-thief is not by any means one of the numerous penalties of modern civilization. He has an antiquity which almost makes him respectable. Hearne, in his 'Johannes Glastoniensis,' states that Sir Henry Saville once wrote a warning letter to Sir Robert Cotton, who had offered some additions to the library of the founder of the Bodleian. An appointment had been made with Sir Robert to give Bodley an opportunity of inspecting the treasures on his shelves, and it was in anticipation of this that Saville thought it his duty to warn his friend in the following terms: 'And remember I give you faire warning that if you hold any booke so deare as that you would bee loath to have him out of your sight, set him aside beforehand.' On the authority of the above extract, Gough has charged Bodley with being a suspicious character—or, in other words, a thief; but the complete letter puts a very different complexion on the extract. He tars with the same brush Dr. Moore, Bishop of Ely, Dr. Rawlinson, and his friend Umfreville. In connection with the first-named, Gough repeats an anecdote which crops up every now and then as authentic, for these half-truths have an extraordinary vitality. The anecdote runs as follows: 'A gentleman calling on a friend who had a choice library, found him unusually busy in putting his best books out of sight; upon asking his view in this, he answered, "Don't you know that the Bishop of Ely dines with me to-day?"' There can be only one inference, of course. As a matter of fact, we do not believe that there is any truth in either rumour. So far as Dr. Moore, 'the Father of Black-letter Collectors,' is concerned, there can be no doubt that he had a fairly elastic conscience in the matter of book-collecting. He is said to have collected his library by plundering those of the clergy of his diocese, justifying himself by the cynical remark, Quid illiterati cum libris? We do not vouch for the truth of this anecdote, any more than for the graver charge, but probably there is some foundation for it. In the Harleian MSS. there is an interesting account of the several libraries, public and private, which existed in London during the earlier part of the last century. From this source we learn that 'in the days of Edward VI., in the chapel adjoining to the Guildhall, called my Lord Maiors Chapell, was a library well furnisht, being all MSS. Stow says the Duke of Somerset borrowed them, with a design never to return them, but furnisht his own study in his pompous house in the Strand; they were five cartloads.'

Horace Walpole expressed his opinion to the effect that virtuosi have been long remarked to have little conscience in their favourite pursuits. A man will steal a rarity, who would cut off his hand rather than take the money it is worth. Yet in fact the crime is the same. He tells us of a 'truly worthy clergyman, who collects coins and books. A friend of mine mentioning to him that he had several of the Strawberry Hill editions, this clergyman said, "Aye, but I can show you what it is not in Mr. Walpole's power to give you." He then produced a list of the pictures in the Devonshire, and other two collections in London, printed at my press. I was much surprised. It was, I think, about the year 1764, that, on reading the six volumes of "London and its Environs," I ordered my printer to throw off one copy for my own use. This printer was the very man who, after he had left my service, produced the noted copy of Wilkes's "Essay on Woman." He had stolen one copy of this list; and I must blame the reverend amateur for purchasing it of him, as it was like receiving stolen goods.'

The number of book-thieves has increased with the extension of public (or free) libraries. Here, the accumulated ingenuity of the literary thief has an ample scope, and he is not the man to let an opportunity escape. Some of the tribe have a mania for old directories; but novels are the most popular. The clerical thief with a thirst for sermons and theological literature is a by no means infrequent customer—and truly the indictment of a thief of this description ought to bear the fatal endorsement continued almost up to our own times, sus. per coll.—'let him be hanged by the neck.'

At one time nearly all the volumes in the very useful Bohn's Library series were kept in the Reading-room of the British Museum, but they so frequently disappeared that the authorities decided upon their permanent sequestration to a less handy part of the building. Last year Mr. C. Trice Martin's new 'Record Interpreter' was so highly appreciated both at the Record Office and at the Reading-room, that the copy at each institution was stolen from the shelves within twenty-four hours of its being placed there.

Women more or less respectably dressed are often objects of suspicion to public librarians; they are also a class infinitely more difficult to deal with than men, for, whilst the receptivity of their cloaks is infinite, their 'feelings' have to be considered. Whether guilty or innocent, the suspected party is bound to create a 'scene,' probably hysterics—and what is a public librarian, or, indeed, any other man, to do under such circumstances?

Libri was unquestionably the most accomplished and wholesale book-thief that ever lived. As Inspector-General of French Libraries under Louis Philippe, he had special facilities for helping himself—his known thefts have been valued at L20,000. We mention him here because his collections were sold at Sotheby's in 1860. One of the most interesting illustrations of this man's depredations was exposed in 1868, when Lord Ashburnham issued a translation of the Pentateuch from a Latin MS. which had been purchased by a previous holder of the title from Libri, who sold it under the condition that it was not to be published for twenty years. It had been stolen in 1847 from the Lyons Library, and the clause in the agreement, therefore, is easily understood. Libri evidently was not one of those whom Jules Janin describes as 'people who don't think it thieving to steal a book unless you sell it afterwards.'

Unfortunately, education has knocked all the virtue out of charms and incantation. Madame de Genlis is said to have fenced the greater part of her library with the following lines:

'Imparibus meritis pendent tria corpora ramis; Dismas, et Gesmas, media est Divina Potestas; Alta petit Dismas, infelix infima Gesmas. Nos et res nostras conservet Summa Potestas!— Hos versus dicas, ne tu furto tua perdas.'

Quite a long chapter could be made up of the doggerel rhymes frequently made use of in bygone days in which the prospective thief was warned off under penalties of a prison, or even of a worse end. Here is one:

'Si quisquis furetur This little Libellum Per Phoebum, per Jovem, I'll kill him—I'll fell him— In ventrem illius I'll stick my scalpellum, And teach him to steal My little Libellum.'

And here is another:

'Qui ce livre volera, Pro suis criminibus Au gibet il dansera, Pedibus pendentibus.'

A curious and interesting chapter in the history of book-stealing is furnished us by Mr. F. S. Ellis. 'Some thirty years since I was talking with Mr. Hunt, for many years Town Clerk of Ipswich, who was an ardent book-collector, and in the course of conversation he lamented how some ten years previously he had missed an opportunity of buying a first edition of "Paradise Lost" under the following circumstances. There was a sale in the neighbourhood of Ipswich, in which a number of books were included. These were all tied in bundles and catalogued simply as so many books in one lot. Going over one of these bundles, what was his surprise to find a first edition of "Paradise Lost," with the first title-page, and in the original sheepskin binding! He said nothing, but went round to the auctioneer's house and asked him if he would be willing to sell him a particular book out of the collection previous to auction. "Oh, by all means," said the auctioneer; "just point me out the volume and say what you are willing to give me for it, and you can take it out at once." What was Mr. Hunt's chagrin and disappointment, on again taking up the bundle, to find that the number of books was all right according to the catalogue, but Milton's "Paradise Lost" had disappeared. Someone with as keen an eye as the Town Clerk had also discovered the jewel, and had put in practice the theory that exchange is no robbery, and had substituted some other volume for the Milton without going through the formality of a consultation with the auctioneer. Not long after this, a "Paradise Lost," which I have every reason to believe was the "Paradise Lost" described above, in the original sheepskin binding, and having the "first" title-page, was offered for sale to Mr. Simpson, who carried on an old-book business for Mr. Skeat, in King William Street, Strand. He purchased it for what in those days was considered a high price; but how much it was below what is now esteemed its value is witnessed by the fact that he offered it to the late Mr. Crossley, of Manchester, and after much haggling sold it to him for L12 12s. When Mr. Crossley had secured it, he quietly remarked, "And now let me tell you that if you find a dozen more copies in similar condition, I will give you the same price for every one." It remained in Mr. Crossley's library for many years, and at the sale of his books in 1884 realized what was considered the very high price of L25. Eight years after it had advanced to L120.'

The book-borrower is, perhaps, a greater curse than the thief, for he simulates a virtue to which the latter makes no pretension. The book-plate of a certain French collector bore this text from the parable of the Ten Virgins: 'Go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves.' 'Sir,' said a man of wit to an acquaintance who lamented the difficulty which he found in persuading his friends to return the volumes that he had lent them, 'Sir, your acquaintances find, I suppose, that it is much more easy to retain the books themselves than what is contained in them.' A certain wise physician took a gentle way of reminding the borrower who dog-eared or tore the pages of his books: pasted on the fly-leaf of each of his books is a printed tag, bearing this legend: 'Library of Galen, M.D. "And if a man borrow aught of his neighbour and it be hurt, he shall surely make it good," Exodus xxii. 14.' A much more effective plan is that described some time ago in the Graphic by Mr. Ashby Sterry. In all the books of a certain cunning bibliophile he had the price written in plain figures; when anyone asked him for the loan of a book he invariably replied, 'Yes, with pleasure,' and, looking in the volume, further added, 'I see the price of this work is L2 17s. 6d.'—or whatever the value might happen to be—'you may take it at this figure, which will, of course, be refunded when the volume is returned.' If a person really wished to read the volume he would of course be glad to leave this deposit; and if he did not return it he would not be altogether an unmitigated thief. Mr. John Ashton relates, in his volume on the 'Wit, Humour, and Satire of the Seventeenth Century,' a curious anecdote which may be here quoted: 'Master Mason, of Trinity Colledge, sent his pupil to another of the Fellows to borrow a Book of him, who told him, I am loathe to lend my books out of my chamber, but if it please thy Tutor to come and read upon it in my chamber, he shall as long as he will.'

When Harrison Ainsworth was a youth and living at Manchester, he contracted an enthusiastic admiration for Elia, to whom he sent some curious books on loan. One of these was a black-letter volume entitled 'Syrinx or a sevenfold History, handled with a variety of pleasant and profitable both comical and tragical Arguments,' etc., by W. Warner, 1597. Lamb replied, December 9, 1823: 'I do not mean to keep the book, for I suspect you are forming a curious collection, and I do not pretend to anything of the kind. I have not a black-letter book among mine, old Chaucer excepted, and am not bibliomanist enough to like black-letter. It is painful to read; therefore I must insist on returning it, at opportunity, not from contumacy and reluctance to be obliged, but because it must suit you better than me.' The copy of Warner's 'Syrinx' Ainsworth had borrowed from Dr. Hibbert-Wade, and therefore it was not the future novelist's book to give. Ignoring, however, his expressed determination to return it, Elia lent the book to another friend, who shortly after went to New York, and may have taken the Warner with him, much to Dr. Hibbert-Wade's annoyance, of which he did not, it is said, fail to let Harrison Ainsworth know. It appears, however, to have returned again—indeed, it is probable that the book never left England—for it is now in the Dyce Collection at South Kensington, with 'Mr. Charles Lamb' written on one of the fly-leaves, and Dyce's note, 'This rare book was given to me by Mr. Moxon after Lamb's death.'

The ranks of London book-borrowers, as those of book-thieves, have included a number of men eminent or distinguished in some particular way. The Duke of Lauderdale was one of these. Evelyn tells us that he was a dangerous borrower of other men's books, as the diarist knew to his cost. Coleridge was a wholesale book-borrower, and the manner in which he annotated the books of his friends caused much strong and deep lamentation at the time. These 'annotated' books have now acquired a very distinct commercial and literary value.

The London Chronicle of December 3-5, 1767, contains a curious advertisement, headed 'Book-Missing.' It goes on, 'Whereas there is missing out of the late Dr. Chandler's Library the fifth Volume of Cardinal Pool's Letters, and it is presumed that the said volume of Letters was borrowed by some friend of the Doctor's; it is earnestly requested by the Widow and Executrix of the said Dr. Chandler that whoever is in possession of the said volume would be so kind as immediately to send it to Mr. Buckland, Bookseller, Paternoster Row, and the favour will be gratefully acknowledged.'

When Sir Walter Scott lent a book, he put in its place a wooden block bearing the name of the borrower and the date of the loan. Charles Lamb, tired of lending his books, threatened to chain Wordsworth's poems to his shelves, adding, 'For of those who borrow, some read slow; some mean to read, but don't read; and some neither read nor mean to read, but borrow to give you an opinion of their sagacity. I must do my money-borrowing friends the justice to say that there is nothing of this caprice or wantonness of alienation in them. When they borrow money they never fail to make use of it.'

Just as the difference between the book-thief and the book-borrower is of too slight a nature to warrant independent chapters, so the hero who indulges in the luxury of a 'knock-out' is more or less of a thief, and this company is, essentially, a very proper place in which to find him. A 'knock-out,' it may be briefly explained to the uninitiated, is a system by which two or more booksellers—or, for the matter of that, any other tradesmen—combine to procure certain books at a lower than normal auction value. An American paper stated, some time ago, and among many other remarkable things, that 'a private buyer cannot obtain a book by auction in London at any price.' The extreme foolishness of such a statement need not be enlarged upon in this place. That the knock-out system does exist in London no one but a fool would deny. That it does occur now and then at such places as Sotheby's, Christie's, Puttick and Simpson's and Hodgson's, is without any manner of doubt, but not to any extent worth mentioning. Where the system is in vogue is at sales held in private houses, and at auction-rooms where books are not generally sold. At such places books are usually knocked down at absurdly low figures, until the private person steps in, when the prices begin to go up with a bound; they then realize oftentimes figures far above those at which they may be acquired at the shops. After the private bidder has been excited into paying an excessive price for his lots, he realizes that he is doing a foolish thing, and resigns the game into the hands of the trade, when the prices again begin to assume their former very low levels. The knock-out books are taken away by their nominal purchaser, and in a convenient back parlour of some handy 'pub' they are put up again for competition among the clique, when all profits realized are thrown into a pool, and afterwards equally divided.

'The two books you commissioned me to get were knocked down at L1 15s. and 10s. respectively,' said a bookseller to a well-known collector only the other day; 'and if you insist upon having them at these prices, plus the commission, you must have them. But as a matter of fact they cost me L1 over and above the total of L2 5s.' The reply to the collector's demand for an explanation was, 'Smith agreed to let me have these two books if I did not oppose his bidding for the Fielding.' It is scarcely necessary to say that the total cost, with the L1 thrown in, was much below the original commission, whilst the Fielding ran up to considerably over the price Smith intended to have given. By striking a balance, the two cronies each obtained what he wanted. An arrangement of this sort is nearly invariably the explanation of two extreme prices being paid for equally good copies of one book in a single season.

In 1781 a portion of the library formed by Ralph Sheldon, of Weston, Warwickshire, chiefly in the third quarter of the seventeenth century, was sold at Christie's, but the auctioneer throughout appears to have been victimized by the knock-out system. One of the lots, comprising a large collection of scarce old plays in fifty-six volumes, quarto, was knocked down to one bookseller for L5 5s.; he then passed it on to another for L18, and the collection was sold on the spot to Henderson the actor for L31 10s. At this same sale the English Bible, 1537, realized 13s.; two copies of the Common Prayer Book, 1552, 8s.; the First Folio Shakespeare, with two other books, L2 4s.; the 'Legenda Aurea,' printed by Notary, 1503, 10s. 6d. It would not be difficult to extend this list of illustrations, but perhaps one example is as good as a hundred.

We may, appropriately enough, conclude this brief but sufficiently lengthy notice of the knock-out system with an anecdote which shows that, in this case, a 'knock-out' would have been justifiable. At a certain famous book-sale a few years ago, a volume of no particular interest, except that it contained the autograph of the Earl of Derwentwater, was possibly worth L5. But the bidding was brisk, two of the dealers being evidently bent on having the prize. To the astonishment of everybody, the price went up to about 120 guineas, when one of the dealers gave in. Taking the other man aside, he said, 'Who have you been bidding for?' 'Mr. So-and-So.' 'So have I.' Another illustration of the unexpected and incomprehensibly sudden rise in the auction value of books is explained in the following extract of a letter from Horace Walpole: 'I cannot conclude my letter without telling you what an escape I had, at the sale of Dr. Mead's library, which goes extremely dear. In the catalogue I saw Winstanley's "Views of Audley End," which I concluded was a thin dirty folio, worth about fifteen shillings. As I thought it might be scarce, it might run to two or three guineas; however, I bid Graham certainly buy it for me. He came the next morning in a great fright, said he did not know whether he had done right or very wrong; that he had gone as far as nine and forty guineas. I started in such a fright! Another bookseller had, luckily, as unlimited a commission, and bid fifty. I shall never give an unbounded commission again.'



SOME HUMOURS OF BOOK-CATALOGUES.

AN interesting and curious pendant to Mr. H. B. Wheatley's 'Literary Blunders' might be made up of the errors which have occurred from time to time in booksellers' catalogues. These errors are sometimes grotesquely amusing, and are perhaps as often attributable to the ingenuity of the printer as to the ignorance of the cataloguer. Booksellers usually content themselves with seeing one proof of their catalogues, and as the variety of books dealt with is so great, it would need at least half a dozen careful revisions to secure anything like correctness. As a general rule, the catalogues of London booksellers are exceptionally free of blunders, provincial compilers (notably one or two in Birmingham) being far behind their Metropolitan rivals. The example of

'Mill, John S., On Liberty, " " On the Floss,'

is almost too well known to again bear repeating; the same may be said of the instance in which Ruskin's 'Notes on the Construction of Sheepfolds' was catalogued as a book for farmers, and of that in which Swinburne's 'Under the Microscope' was classed among optical instruments. The cross-reference of

'God: see Fiske, J.,'

is a gem of absent-mindedness. Here are four more gems which appeared in the catalogue of a public library:

'Aristophanes: The Clouds of the Greek Text.' 'Boy's Own Annual: Magazine of Gymnastics.' 'Swedenborg: Conjugal Love and its Opposite.' 'Tiziano (Titian), Vicelli Da Cadore.'

The following is a good specimen of a bookseller's inspiration in reference to the entry 'Bible—2 vols., 12mo., Edin., 1811' in his catalogue: 'Sir Brunet and Dibdin in praise of this beautiful edition. As most nearly approaching unimaculateness a better copy than the present one could not be found.' This example is on a par with that in which an early Missal is catalogued as an 'extremely rare old printing and engraved work,' its author being 'Horae B. V. Mariae and usum Romanum,' whilst it is stated to be bound by 'Chamholfen Duru,' whoever he may be. Equally intelligent is another item from the same source, 'Newcastle (Marguis de Methode, etc.), oeuvre auquel on apprende,' etc. Perhaps it was the cheapness—sixpence each—which prevented two items from having fuller descriptions:

'Horace, the Poems of, very interesting.' 'Jokely, very interesting, 12 months.'

Perhaps '12 months' is the term of imprisonment which any bookseller deserves for publishing such absurdities. Another gem in the way of blunders is the following:

'There's (Lord and Lady) Legends of the Library at Lilies, 2 vols., 8vo., bds., 2s. 6d., 1832.'

The book catalogued in this puzzling manner is by Lord and Lady Nugent, and is entitled 'Legends of the Library at Lilies [the Nugents' residence], by the Lord and Lady thereof.' A similar carelessness resulted in Sir Astley Cooper's 'Treatise on Dislocations,' 1822, being catalogued as follows: 'Bart (C. A.), a Treatise on Discolourations and Fractures of the Joints,' etc., and also of books by Sir James Y. Simpson, Bart., as by 'Bart (S.)' and 'Bart (J.).' The following entries speak for themselves:

'Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Pottery.' 'The New Wig Guide.' 'The Rose and the Ring by R. Browing.' 'Marryat's "Pirate and Three Butlers."'

Under 'Devil, The,' we find the following entry: 'Le Deuil sou observation dans tous les Temps,' 1877; and under Numismatics the following delightful bull: 'Money, a comedy, a poor copy, 1s.'

As an instance of official cataloguing, it would be difficult to beat the following description of a familiar classic which appeared in a list issued a few years ago (according to a writer in Notes and Queries) in a certain presidency of India, 'by order of the Right Hon. the Governor in Council':

'Title—Commentarii (sic) De Bello Gallico in usum Scholarum, Liber Tirtius (sic). Author—Mr. C. J. Caesoris. Subject—Religion.'

Nichols, in his 'Literary Anecdotes' (iv. 493), mentions that Dr. Taylor, who about the year 1732 was librarian at Cambridge, used to relate of himself that one day throwing books in heaps for the purpose of classing and arranging them, he put one among works on Mensuration, because his eye caught the word height in the title-page, and another which had the word salt conspicuous he threw among books on Chemistry or Cookery. But when he began a regular classification, it appeared that the former was 'Longinus on the Sublime,' and the other a 'Theological Discourse on the Salt of the World, that good Christians ought to be seasoned with.' Thus, in a catalogue published about eighty years ago the 'Flowers of Ancient Literature' are found among books on Gardening and Botany, and Burton's 'Anatomy of Melancholy' is placed among works on Medicine and Surgery. Some blundering bibliographer has classed the 'Fuggerarum Imagines,' the account of the once mighty Italian family, among botanical works, under the 'Resemblance of Ferns.' Dibdin states that he once saw the first Aldine Homer in a country bookseller's catalogue described as 'a beautiful copy of the Koraun.' The Rev. John Mitford sent to a Woodbridge bookseller for a copy of Shelley's 'Prometheus Unbound,' and received the answer that no copy of 'Prometheus' in sheets could be obtained—a misconception which Bernard Barton promptly forwarded to London, to Charles Lamb's great content. We have heard of the following blunder, but have never actually seen it:

'SHELLEY—Prometheus, unbound,' etc. ' —— —— another copy, olive morocco,' etc.

The nearest approach to it occurred a few years ago in a Glasgow auctioneer's catalogue: 'Lot 282, Sir Noel Paton's Illustrations, Shelley's Prometheus, unbound, 12 plates, N.D.' As a matter of fact, the copy was bound in cloth. 'Please send the ax relating to a justus pease' is a phrase which will be remembered by readers of 'Guy Mannering.' Only recently a post-card reached Messrs. Smith, Elder and Co. requesting the immediate despatch of a copy of 'Hard on Horace,' which was the inaccurate, or perhaps waggish, sender's rendering of the 'Hawarden Horace.' This will be remembered with the request for 'The Crockit Minister,' by Stickett, and 'Sheep that Pass in the Night.' Some of the foregoing budget can scarcely be placed to the discredit of the cataloguer, but they are sufficiently apropos to be included here.

The following amusing entry occurs in the sale catalogue of the library of the late Mr. R. Montgomery, which was dispersed by auction at Antwerp the other day: 'Plain or Ringlets? by Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate, with illustrations by John Leech. London, s.d., 8{o} d. rel. dos et coins chagr. rouge, tete doree, figg. coloriees et noires.' Messrs. Longmans had a letter a few weeks ago asking for a copy of 'Chips from a German Workshop,' by Max Mueller, for review in a trade paper dealing with carpentering, etc.! This reminds one of the story of Edwardes, the Republican bookseller of a century ago, who put a Government spy to confusion by re-binding a Bible and giving it the seditious title, 'The Rights of Man.' Burke's 'Thoughts on the French Revolution' was advertised by him as 'The Gospel according to St. Burke.' Outside a certain bookseller's shop, Mr. R. C. Christie once saw a book in six duodecimo volumes, bound in dark antique calf, and lettered 'Calvini Opera.' Knowing of no edition of the works of Calvin in that form, Mr. Christie took down a volume, and found it was 'Faublas!' It was the original edition in thirteen parts, with the seventeen engravings, and was so lettered, no doubt, by its former owner to shelter it from indiscreet curiosity!

The practice of giving books of poetry, novels, etc., what may be described as floricultural titles, has landed cataloguers into an astonishing number and variety of errors, some of which have been pointed out by Mr. B. Daydon Jackson in the Bibliographer. The chief sinners have been foreign bibliographers, who, not being able to examine the books which they catalogue, depend entirely upon the titles. The same error occurs frequently here in this country. An English trade journal included Dr. Garnett's selection from Coventry Patmore's poems, 'Florilegium Amantis,' under 'Botany, Farming, and Gardening.' Two of Mayne Reid's novels, 'The Forest Exiles' and 'The Plant-Hunters,' have been included among scientific books, but in these cases the errors seem to have arisen from the misleadingly translated titles, the former in Italian ('Gli esuli nella foresta; cognizioni di scienza fiscia e naturale'), and the latter in French, 'Le Chasseur de Plantes.' The learned Pritzel included among botanical treatises 'The Lotus, or Faery Flower of the Poets.' In the earlier part of the century a story was in circulation relative to an erudite collector who was accustomed to boast of his discoveries in Venetian history from the perusal of a rare quarto, 'De Re Venatica.' A brother bibliographer one day lowered his pretensions by gravely informing him that the historical discoveries to which he laid claim had been anticipated by Mr. Beckford, who, towards the close of the last century, published them to the world under the analogous title of 'Thoughts on Hunting.'

There is a good deal of amusement to be got sometimes out of even such an unpromising source as an auctioneer's catalogue, especially when it includes books. The list of a miscellaneous lot of things lately sold at a South London depository comes in this category. One of the items, for example, is entered as 'Dickin's works bound in half,' but who Mr. 'Dickin' is, or was, or what the 'half' indicates, the reader is left to find out. 'Goldsmith lover' also seems a trifle confusing, until the lot is hunted up and the discovery made that Goldsmith's 'Works' is intended. Lytton's 'King John' suggests a work hitherto unknown to readers of the author of 'My Novel,' until examination proves it to be 'King Arthur,' and 'McCauley's History of England' is rather suggestive of a scathing indictment of English misrule by an author from the 'distressful country' than of the picturesque prose of the whilom Whig statesman and book-collector.



SOME MODERN COLLECTORS.

WE have already referred, in a preceding chapter, to the origin and early history of the Roxburghe Club, and also to the disrepute in which its too zealous members, Hazlewood and Dibdin, contrived to place it. The club still exists, and flourishes in a manner which renders it unique among book-clubs. A complete set of its privately-printed booklets is an almost impossible feat of book-collecting, and an expensive luxury in which but few can afford to indulge. The present constitution of the club, the members of which dine together once a year, is as follows: President: The Marquis of Salisbury, K.G.; S.A.R. le Duc D'Aumale; the Duke of Buccleuch, K.T.; the Duke of Devonshire, K.G.; the Marquis of Bute, K.T.; the Marquis of Lothian, K.T.; the Marquis of Bath; Earl Cowper, K.G.; Earl of Crawford; Earl of Powis; Earl of Rosebery; Earl of Cawdor; Lord Charles W. Brudenell Bruce; Lord Zouche; Lord Houghton; Lord Amherst of Hackney; the Lord Bishop of Peterborough; the Lord Bishop of Salisbury; the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour, M.P.; Sir William R. Anson, Bart.; Charles Butler, Esq.; Ingram Bywater, Esq.; Richard Copley Christie, Esq.; Charles I. Elton, Esq.; Sir John Evans, K.C.B.; George Briscoe Eyre, Esq.; Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks; Thomas Gaisford, Esq.; Henry Hucks Gibbs, Esq. (vice-president); Alban George Henry Gibbs, Esq.; A. H. Huth, Esq. (treasurer); Andrew Lang, Esq.; J. Wingfield Malcolm, Esq.; John Murray, Esq.; Edward James Stanley, Esq.; Simon Watson Taylor, Esq.; Sir Edward Maunde Thompson (principal librarian of the British Museum); Rev. Edward Tindal Turner, Esq.; V. Bates Van de Weyer, Esq.; and W. Aldis Wright, Esq.



The finest and most select, and perhaps the most extensive, collection of books owned by any member of the Roxburghe Club is the noble library of Mr. Huth, whose father, the late Henry Huth, founded it. A very interesting account of this library, from two points of view—Mr. F. S. Ellis's and Mr. A. H. Huth's—appears in Part II. of Quaritch's 'Dictionary of English Book-collectors,' whilst the fullest account of all the rarities which it contains is comprised in the catalogue in five imperial octavo volumes. It is impossible to do justice to it in the brief space at our disposal. But a few rarities may be enumerated as showing its extremely varied nature. Nearly all the early printers are represented in the Huth Library—there are the Gutenberg and Fust and Schoeffer Bibles; the Balbi Catholicon, 1460; there are over seventy Aldines, including the rare Virgil of 1501, with the bookplate of Bilibald Pirkheimer. There are no less than a dozen fine examples of Caxton's press; the only known copy on vellum of the 'Fructus Temporum' of the St. Albans press; about fifty works from the press of Wynkyn de Worde, of which several are unique; and sixteen works printed by Richard Pynson. Of Shakespeare quartos the late Mr. Huth secured a very fine series at the Daniel sale in 1864, including 'Richard II.,' 1597; 'Henry V.,' 1600; 'Richard III.,' 1597; 'Romeo and Juliet,' 1599; 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' 1600; 'Merchant of Venice,' 1600; 'Merrie Wives of Windsor,' 1602; 'Othello,' 1622; 'Titus Andronicus,' 1611; and 'Pericles,' 1609. The library is equally rich in the production of Elizabethan and Jacobean literature, many of the items being either unique or very nearly so; it is especially rich in first editions of the English poets from the earliest times down to Goldsmith, Keats, Shelley, etc. Indeed, the collection seems to contain the first or best editions of every English work of note; there are many fine manuscripts, and some highly interesting autographs. Mr. Ellis tells us that Mr. Huth always bought on his own judgment, without consultation and without hesitation, 'and I believe it may be safely affirmed that it would be difficult to name any collector who made fewer errors in his selection. He was never known to bargain for a book or to endeavour to cheapen it. The price named, he would at once say 'Yea' or 'Nay' to it, and though it was supposed at the time that he paid high prices for his books, it may be confidently asserted that as a whole they are worth very much more than he paid for them, which, I think, could not have been much less altogether than L120,000.' Joseph Lilly is said to have sold to or purchased for Mr. Huth books to the value of over L40,000. Mr. Huth was born in 1815, and died in 1878. The library is, as we have said, now the property of his son, Mr. Alfred H. Huth, who has made a number of important additions to it, and who is as ardent and as genuine a bibliophile as his father.