Part 8

The primary aim and object of the Roxburghe Club were clearly enough indicated in the first list of members, for the association of men with kindred tastes is at all times a highly commendable one. The Roxburghe Club might have sustained its _raison d'être_, if it had drawn the line at such men as Thomas Frognall Dibdin and Joseph Hazlewood. The foregoing extract from the _Museum_ of 1823 exactly indicates the position which the club at that time held in public estimation. It had degenerated into a mere drinking and gormandizing association, alike a disgrace to its more respectable members and an insult to the nobleman whose name it was dragging through the mire. Those who have an opportunity of consulting the _Athenæum_ for 1834 will find, in the first four issues of January, one of the most scathing exposures to which any institution has ever been subjected. Hazlewood had died, and his books came into the sale-room. Never had the adage of 'Dead men tell no tales' been more completely falsified. Hazlewood, who does not seem to have been unpleasantly particular in telling the truth when living, told it with a vengeance after his death; for among his papers there was a bundle entitled 'Roxburghe Revels,' which Thorpe purchased for £40, the editor of the _Athenæum_ being the under-bidder. A few days afterwards, and for the weighty consideration of a £10 note profit, the lot passed into the hands of Mr. Dilke, and the articles to which we have referred followed.[64:A] If anything could have made the deceased Joseph turn in his grave, it would have been the attention which he received at the unsparing hands of Mr. Dilke. The excellent Mr. Dibdin survived the exposure several years. The castigation proved beneficial to the club; and if its revelries were no less boisterous than heretofore, it at all events circulated among its members books worthy of the name of Roxburghe, and edited in a scholarly manner. The club still flourishes, with the Marquis of Salisbury as its president, and the list of its members will be found in our chapter on 'Modern Collectors.'

One of the mighty book-hunters of the last century was the Rev. Clayton Mordaunt Cracherode (whose father went out as a commander of marines in Anson's ship, and whose share in the prize-money made him a wealthy man), who died on April 6, 1799, in his seventieth year. His splendid library now forms a part of the British Museum. It contains the most choice copies in classical and Biblical literature, and many of these are on vellum. His collection of editions of the fifteenth century Mr. Cracherode used modestly to call a 'specimen' one; 'they form perhaps the most perfect _collana_ or necklace ever strung by one man.' Several of the books formerly belonged to Grolier. His library was valued at £10,000 at or about the time of his death; it would probably now realize considerably over ten times that amount if submitted to auction. The value of his prints was placed at £5,000. Cracherode was an excellent scholar, and an amiable; his passion for collecting was strong even in death, for whilst he was at the last extremity his agent was making purchases for him. He was one of the most constant habitués of Tom Payne's, and at his final visit he put an Edinburgh Terence in one pocket and a large-paper Cebes in the other. His house was in Queen Square, Westminster, overlooking St. James's Park.

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

Among the many book-collectors whose careers link the past century with the present, few are more worthy of notice than Francis Douce, who died in the spring of 1834, aged seventy-seven. He was for a short time Keeper of the MSS. in the British Museum. His fortune was much increased by being left one of the residuary legatees of Nollekens, the sculptor--to the extent, in fact, of £50,000. Dibdin, who was for many years a near neighbour and intimate friend at Kensington, describes Douce's library as 'eminently rich and curious . . . not a book but what had its fly-leaf written upon. In short, no man ever lived so much with, and so entirely for, his books as did he.' Douce is the Prospero of the 'Bibliomania.' His books he bequeathed to the Bodleian, and his MSS. to the British Museum, the stipulation in the latter case being that they are not to be opened until 1900! In manners and appearance Douce was singular and strange, rough to strangers, but gentle and kind to those who knew him intimately. He was of the old school as regards dress, wearing as he did a little flaxen wig, an old-fashioned square-cut coat, with what M. Jacob calls 'quarto pockets.' Several of his letters are printed in Dibdin's 'Literary Recollections.'

Two other distinguished book-collectors, contemporary with Douce, and, like him, benefactors to the Bodleian, may be mentioned here--Richard Gough (1739-1809), the antiquary; and Edmond Malone (1741-1812), the Shakespearian scholar. Gough's gift consisted of the topographical portion of his library; the remainder, comprising 4,373 lots, realizing the total of £3,552, came under the hammer at Leigh and Sotheby's in 1810, realizing what were then considered very fancy prices (a selection of which are given in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, lxxx., part ii.). The Malone collection, which became the property of the Bodleian through the influence of Lord Sunderlin in 1815, comprised what the collector himself describes as 'the most curious, valuable, and extensive collection ever assembled of ancient English plays and poetry.' It would probably be impossible now to form another such collection. Malone told Caldwell, who repeats the remarkable fact, that he had procured every dramatic piece mentioned by Langbaine, excepting four or five--the advantage, observes that gentleman, of living in London. The number of volumes amounts to about 3,200. As his biographer, Sir James Prior, has pointed out, his collection in the Bodleian remains distinct, and is creditable 'alike to the industry, taste, and patience by which it was brought together.' And further: 'None of his predecessors have attempted what he accomplished. Few of his successors have, on most points, added materially to our knowledge.' Yet a third benefactor to the Bodleian may be conveniently mentioned here. Thomas Caldecott, who was born in 1744, and died in 1833, was a Fellow of New College, Oxford, and afterwards a Bencher of the Middle Temple. He resided chiefly at Dartford, and formed a choice library of black-letter books, and the productions of the Elizabethan period. He attacked with considerable asperity and ability Shakespearian commentators, such as Steevens and Malone; and his rivals did not spare his edition of two of Shakespeare's plays when they came out. He presented the gems of his library, the Shakespeare quartos, to the Bodleian; but the remainder of his books, including many excessively rare and several unique pieces, came up for sale at Sotheby's in 1833, and realized a total of £1,210 6s. 6d.

The splendid library of John Dent, of Hertford Street, sold by Evans in 1827, producing the sum of £15,040, had a curious history. The nucleus of it was formed towards the close of the last century by Haughton James, who, in a moment of conviviality, and without a due consideration of its true value, transferred it to Robert Heathcote,[68:A] who made several additions, and from whose possession it passed about 1807 into that of John Dent. The sale of the Dent library is described by Dibdin as exhibiting the 'first grand melancholy symptoms of the decay of the Bibliomania.' The chief attraction was the Sweynheym and Pannartz Livy, 1469, on vellum, which fell (in more senses than one) under the hammer for £262, Dent having paid £903 for it at Sir Mark Sykes' sale. Both the purchasers, Payne and Foss, and Dibdin, made strenuous efforts to persuade the Earl of Spencer to purchase it, but unsuccessfully; it subsequently became the property of Grenville, and passed with his collection into the British Museum. Dent is the Pontevallo of the 'Bibliomania,' and Baroccio of the 'Bibliographical Decameron,' and does not seem to have been an altogether amiable specimen of the fraternity. Canning used to say that he once found Dent deep in the study of an open book which was upside down!

A much more genial bibliomaniac, Sir William Bolland, calls for notice; he was one of the original members of the Roxburghe Club, which, in fact, was first suggested at a dinner-party at his house, June 4, 1812. He died May 14, 1840, aged sixty-eight, and his library, which comprised 2,940 lots, and realized £3,019, was sold by Evans, and included many choice books. One of the greatest bargains which this distinguished collector secured during his career became his property through the medium of Benjamin Wheatley, who purchased a bundle of poetical tracts from the Chapter Library at Lincoln for 80 guineas. When the inevitable sale came, one of these trifles, 'The Rape of Lucrece,' alone realized 100 guineas.

George Chalmers (1742-1825), who is described as 'the most learned and the most celebrated of all the antiquaries and historians of Scotland,' was also one of the giant book-collectors of the present century, and differed from the majority of collectors in being a prolific and versatile author. At his death his nephew became the possessor of his extensive library, but on the death of the nephew the books were placed in the hands of Evans, who sold them in two parts, September, 1841, and February, 1842, and realized over £4,100. The second part was very rich in Shakespeariana, and included the 'Sonnets,' 1609, £105; 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' 1600 (second edition), £105; and many other important items. In the first part of the sale, Marlowe's 'Tragedie of Richard, Duke of York,' 1595 (believed to be unique), sold for £131; and the only perfect copy then known of Patrick Hannay's 'Nightingale,' 1622, from the libraries of Bindley, Perry, Sykes and Rice, £13 5s. The third part of Chalmers' library, which consisted for the most part of works relative to Scotland, particularly in illustration of the History of Printing in that Country, was also sold by Evans in 1842. Among other book-collectors of this period we may mention particularly the Rev. Henry Joseph Thomas Drury, whose library was rich in classics, all for the most part finely bound; it came under the hammer at Evans's in 1827 (4,729 lots); Dr. Isaac Gosset, who died in 1812, in his sixty-eighth year, and whose library, comprising 5,740 lots, realized £3,141 7s. 6d. at Leigh and Sotheby's in 1813; the Rev. Jonathan Boucher (1738-1804), Vicar of Epsom, who, like George Chalmers, for many years resided in America, was, also like him, an inveterate book-collector to whom everything in the shape of a book was welcome: his sale occupied Leigh and Sotheby thirty-nine days, in 1806, the total being over £4,510.

III.

The history of the second and third quarters of the present century makes mention of very few collectors of the first rank. Among the more important of those whose libraries came under the hammer within that period, we may specially refer to the following: William Upcott, who started early in life as an assistant to R. H. Evans, but who in 1806 became sub-librarian of the London Institution. He was one of the first to take up autograph-collecting, of which, indeed, he has been termed the pioneer. He certainly collected with great advantage and knowledge, and his vast accumulations were sold at Sotheby's in four batches during 1846, he having died in September, 1845; John Hugh Smyth Piggott, whose library, in three portions, was sold at the same place, 1847-54; W. Y. Ottley, the prolific writer of books on art, 1849; W. Holgate, of the Post Office, whose library included a number of Shakespeariana, June, 1846; Hanrott, 1857; Sir Thomas Bernard, 1855; Isaac D'Israeli, the author of 'Curiosities of Literature,' in 1849, and his unsparing critic, Bolton Corney, in 1871; S. W. Singer, in four parts, 1860; J. Orchard Halliwell (afterwards Halliwell-Phillipps), in 1856, 1857, and 1859; and the Rev. Dr. Hawtrey, part of whose books were sold, far below their worth, in 1853, and the rest nine years later. Many of the foregoing were literary men, who aimed rather at getting together a useful library than one of rarities. The sale of all such libraries makes a very sorry show beside that of the more ostentatious collections. For instance, the books which Macaulay used with such brilliant effect, and including among them an extraordinary number of tracts, many excessively rare, only realized £426 15s. 6d., when sold in 1863 in 1,011 lots. Douglas Jerrold's little library, sold in August, 1859, in 307 lots, only fetched £173 3s. In very strong contrast to these is the remarkable little library, formed between 1820 and 1830 by Henry Perkins, of Hanworth Park, Feltham, a member of the brewing firm. This collection comprised only 865 lots, but when sold at Sotheby's in June, 1873, the total was found to be close on £26,000! There was a copy each of the 42-line and 40-line Gutenberg Bible--the former is now in the Huth Library, and the latter in the Ashburnham Library; several other very early printed Bibles, including Coverdale's, Matthews', and Cranmer's, two works printed by Caxton, with many other important books were sold.

The late George Daniel (who was born about 1790) may be regarded as the connecting link between the collectors of the early part of the present century and those of to-day. When, for example, Perry and Bindley left off, Daniel commenced. There was no great rush after Shakespeare quartos in the earlier part of the present century, and book-collecting for a time ceased to be the pet hobby of wealthy members of the peerage. When George Daniel, a critic and bibliographer of exceptional abilities, began to collect, he soon made Shakespeare, as well as the earlier English poets, objects of solicitude. He resided for many years in the historic old red-brick tower at Canonbury.[72:A] The sale of Daniel's extraordinary collection was held at Sotheby's in July, 1864, when a First Folio, one of the finest in the world--now in the possession of Baroness Burdett-Coutts--sold for £716 2s., and when twenty of the Shakespeare quartos realized a total of about £3,000.

George Daniel is now remembered by but few book-collectors. Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt knew him very well, and describes him as a retired accountant, whose idiosyncrasy consisted of _rares morçeaux_, _bonnes bouches_, uniques--copies of books with a _provenance_, or in jackets made for them by Roger Payne--nay, in the original parchment or paper wrapper, or in a bit of real mutton which certain men call sheep. He was a person of literary tastes, and had written books in his day. But his chief celebrity was as an acquirer of those of others, provided always that they were old enough or rare enough. An item never passed into his possession without at once _ipso facto_ gaining new attributes, almost invariably worded in a holograph memorandum on the fly-leaf. Daniel was in the market at a fortunate and peculiar juncture, just when prices were depressed, about the time of the great Heber sale. His marvellous gleanings came to the hammer precisely when the quarto Shakespeare, the black-letter romance, the unique book of Elizabethan verse, had grown worth ten times their weight in sovereigns. Sir William Tite, J. O. Halliwell, and Henry Huth were to the front. It was in 1864. What a wonderful sight it was! No living man had ever witnessed the like. Copies of Shakespeare, printed from the prompters' MSS. and published at fourpence, fetched £300 or £400. I remember old Joseph Lilly, when he had secured the famous Ballads, which came from the Tollemaches of Helmingham Hall, holding up the folio volume in which they were contained in triumph as someone whom he knew entered the room. Poor Daniel! he had no mean estimate of his treasures--what he had was always better than what you had. Books, prints, autographs--it was all the same. I met him one morning in Long Acre. I had bought a very fine copy of Taylor, the Water Poet. "Oh, yes, sir," he said, "I saw it; but not quite so fine as mine." He went up to Highgate to look through the engravings of Charles Matthews the elder. They were all duplicates--of course inferior ones. "Damn him, sir!" cried Matthews afterwards to a friend; "I should like him to have had a duplicate of my wooden leg."

John Payne Collier, who was born a year before Daniel, but who lived until 1883, was a collector with very similar tastes. He had been a reporter on the _Morning Chronicle_, and in all probability imbibed some of his book-collecting zeal from Perry. His book-buying and literary career commenced, according to his own account, in 1804 or 1805, when his father took him into the shop of Thomas Rodd, senior, on which occasion he purchased his 'first Old English book of any value,' namely, Wilson's 'Art of Logic,' printed by Grafton, 1551; from this he ascertained that 'Ralf Roister Doister' was an older play than 'Gammer Gurton's Needle,' and also that it was by Nicholas Udal, Master of Eton School. When in Holland, in the winter of 1813-14, Collier purchased among other books an imperfect copy of Tyndale's 'Gospel of St. Matthew,' to which, as he says in his 'Diary,' 'the date of 1526 [1525] has been assigned, and which seems to be the very earliest translation into English of any portion of the New Testament. Many years afterwards--I think in the spring of 1832--I happened to show it to Rodd, the learned bookseller. I was at that time ignorant on the subject, and Rodd offered me books to the value of two or three pounds for it. I gladly accepted them.' This fragment, for which Collier paid a florin, was sold to Mr. Grenville by Rodd for £50, and is now in the British Museum. Writing in the _Athenæum_, January 31, 1852, he gives an account of the origin of events which led to one of the fiercest literary quarrels of modern times: 'A short time before the death of the late Mr. Rodd, of Newport Street [_i.e._ early in 1849], I happened to be in his shop when a considerable parcel of books arrived from the country. He told me that they had been bought for him at an auction--I think in Bedfordshire. . . . He unpacked them in my presence . . . and there were two which attracted my attention, one being a fine copy of Florio's "Italian Dictionary," of the edition of 1611, and the other a much-thumbed, abused, and imperfect copy of the Second Folio of Shakespeare, 1632. The first I did not possess, and the last I was willing to buy, inasmuch as I apprehended it would add some missing leaves to a copy of the same impression which I had had for some time on my shelves. As was his usual course, Mr. Rodd required a very reasonable price for both; for the first I remember I gave 12s. and for the last only £1 10s. . . . On the outside of one of the covers was inscribed, "Tho. Perkins, his booke."' Collier was vexed at finding that the volume contained no leaves which would help him in completing the volume he already had. He had employed another person to do the collating, and it was not until some considerable time after, and on examining thoroughly the volume himself, that he discovered it to contain a large series of emendations, which Collier included in his 'Notes and Emendations to the Text of Shakespeare's Plays,' 1853, which set the whole town by the ears. Collier's library was dispersed at Sotheby's in 1884; it was an unusually interesting sale, and included many very rare and curious books.

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