KER, JOHN, third duke of
Roxburgh, distinguished by his eminent bibliographical knowledge, and his
extensive and valuable collection of books, was born in Hanover Square,
London, on the 23d April, 1740. He was the eldest son of Robert, the second
duke, by Essex Mostyn, daughter of Sir Roger Mostyn, of Mostyn, in Kentshire,
baronet. In 1755, he succeeded his father in the dukedom, to which was
attached the British peerage of earl and baron Ker of Wakefield; and he
appears to have soon after proceeded upon his travels on the continent. It
is stated that, while in Germany, he formed an attachment to Christiana
Sophia Albertina, eldest daughter of the duke of Mecklenburg Strelitz, and
that their nuptials would have taken place, had not her sister Charlotte,
just at that time, been espoused by the king of Great Britain. Etiquette
then interfered, to prevent what would otherwise have been an equal and
proper match, it being deemed improper that the elder should become the
subject of the younger sister. Both parties, however, evinced the strength
of their attachment, by devoting their afterlives to celibacy. It seems to
have been to this event that Sir Walter Scott alludes, when he says of the
duke: "Youthful misfortunes, of a kind against which neither wealth nor rank
possess a talisman, cast an early shade of gloom over his prospects, and
gave to one splendidly endowed with the means of enjoying society, that
degree of reserved melancholy, which prefers retirement to the splendid
scenes of gayety." To whatever extent George III, might be the innocent
cause of his grace’s misfortune, it does not appear to have, in the least,
marred a strong friendship which existed between them—"a tie of rare
occurrence," Sir Walter Scott justly observes, " between prince and
subject." In 1767, his grace was appointed a lord of the bed-chamber, and
next year was invested with the order of the thistle. The former honour gave
him a title to be much about the court; but he never farther engaged himself
in a public career.
The taste which his grace
imbibed to so extraordinary an extent for book-collecting, is stated by Sir
Walter to have originated in an accidental circumstance. "Lord Oxford and
lord Sunderland, both famous collectors of the time, dined one day at the
house of the second duke of Roxburgb, when their conversation happened to
turn upon the editio princeps of Boccaccio, printed at Venice in 1471, and
so rare that its very existence was doubted of. The duke was himself no
collector, but it happened that a copy of this very book had passed under
his eye, and been offered to him for sale at a hundred guineas, then thought
an immense price. It was, therefore, with complete assurance that he
undertook to produce to the connoisseurs a copy of the treasure in question,
and did so at the time appointed, with no small triumph. His son, then
marquis of Beaumont, never forgot the little scene upon this occasion, and
used to ascribe to it the strong passion which he ever afterwards felt for
rare books and editions, and which rendered him one of the most assiduous
and judicious collectors that ever formed a sumptuous library."
There can be no doubt, at the
same time, that the duke chanced to possess that perseverance of character
and genuine literary taste, without which such an impulse as this must have
been of no avail. "Sylvan amusements," says Sir Walter, "occupied the more
active part of his time when in Scotland; and in book-collecting, while
residing in London, he displayed a degree of patience which has rarely been
equalled, and never excelled. It could scarcely be said, whether the duke of
Roxburgh’s assiduity and eagerness were most remarkable, when he lay for
hours together, though the snow was falling at the time, beside some lovely
spring in the Cheviot hills, where he expected the precarious chance of
shooting a wild goose, when the dawning should break; or when he toiled for
hours, nay, for days, collecting and verifying his edition of the Black
Acts, or Caxton’s Boke of Troy."
With the exception of
singularly fortunate adventures in the procuring books, the duke’s life
passed on in an almost unvaried tenor, in the pursuits just alluded to. At
his seat of Fleurs in Scotland, where he spent but a small portion of his
time, he had a proportionately small library; but at his house in St James’s
Square, London, where he chiefly resided, he, in time, amassed the most
valuable private library in the country. In 1796, he was appointed groom of
the stable, and initiated a privy councillor, and in 1801 was honoured with
the garter, which he was permitted to bear along with the thistle, a mark of
honour conferred on no other subject since 1712, when the duke of Hamilton
had the same distinction from queen Anne. [No man could have borne these
honours with more grace than the duke of Roxburgh whose "lofty presence and
felicitous address," according to Sir Walter Scott, "recalled the ideas of a
court in which lord Chesterfield might have acted as master of the
ceremonies."] For upwards of forty years, he continued his
book-collecting habits without intermission, being much aided during a great
part of the time by Mr G. Nichol, bookseller to the king, whose services
towards the excellent library collected by George III., and afterwards given
by George IV. to the nation, were also very eminent. At length, on the 19th
of March, 1804, the duke died of inflammation in the liver, at his house in
London, in the 64th year of his age. He was buried at Bowden, near Melrose.
His library, at his death,
consisted of upwards of ten thousand distinct articles, many of them of the
greatest rarity and of high value, though it was understood that in many
cases he had purchased them at comparatively low prices. It would be vain to
pretend that his grace had made or could make a good use of such a vast mass
of literature, much of it of an obsolete kind; yet, neither can there be any
doubt that he read much of what he purchased, and seemed, upon the whole, to
aim rather at gratifying an innate taste for letters, and a devout and
worshipful regard for their brightest ornaments, than either for the pride
of possessing so many curiosities, or the usual antiquarian appreciation of
minute peculiarities in the externe of books.
Early English literature and
the Table Ronde had been the chief objects of his research. Of the
former he possessed not only the rarest, but, in point of condition, the
most beautiful specimens in existence. He idolized the talents of
Shakspeare and Cervantes, and collected every thing that could illustrate
their works. Fifteen different editions of Shakspeare’s complete works, with
seventy-five separate plays in different editions, and fourteen distinct
works respecting this great dramatic author, are to be found in the
catalogue. In the poetical department of early English literature, he had a
great collection; in which the most curious article was a very large
assortment of ancient ballads and fugitive pieces of poetry in three volumes
folio, which had been first formed for the Library of the earl of Oxford,
afterwards enlarged by major Pearson and Mr Isaac Reid, then increased to a
great extent by the duke himself, and which brought, at the sale, no less
than four hundred and seventy-seven pounds, fifteen shillings.
The duke had also collected
many ancient manuscripts, some of them splendidly illuminated; and it is
mentioned, that he read these with great facility, as was testified by
various remarks which he wrote upon them with his own hand. He had the
largest and finest collection of the books printed by Caxton, in England. At
his death he was in full pursuit of the English dramatic authors; and when
the large collection he possessed is taken into account, along with the
comparative briefness of the time during which he had directed his attention
this way, his industry seems prodigious. He had an uncommon quantity of
books and tracts relative to criminals, detections of witches, and other
impostors. Mr Nichol, in the preface to the catalogue, says, "he had a
particular pleasure in exercising those discriminating powers which he so
eminently possessed, in tracing out the images by which the perverted
ingenuity of the human mind often attempts to impose upon the credulity of
its fellow creatures."
This splendid library was,
after a long and distressing delay from litigation, brought to sale, in May,
1812; an event which may be said to have created more sensation than any
other connected with literature during the present century—the disclosure of
the Waverley secret alone excepted. Mr Dibdin, in his Bibliographical
Decameron, has given an account of the proceedings, under the metaphorical
semblance of a battle among the bibliomaniacs. He calls it THE ROXBURGR
FIGHT; and to this record we must be indebted for the account of a
transaction which it would be improper to overlook in this memoir.
"It would seem," says this
facetious writer, "as if the year of our Lord 1811, was destined, in the
annals of the book auctions, to be calm and quiescent, as a prelude and
contrast to the tremendous explosion or contest which, in the succeeding
year, was to rend asunder the bibliomaniacal elements. It is well known that
Mr George Nichol had long prepared the catalogue of that extraordinary
collection; and a sort of avant-courier or picquet guard preceded the march
of the whole army, in the shape of a preface, privately circulated
among the friends of the author. The publication of a certain work, ycleped
the Bibliomania, had also probably stirred up the metal and hardened
the sinews of the contending book-knights. At length the hour of battle
arrived. * * * For two-and-forty successive days—with the
exception only of Sundays—was the voice and hammer of Mr Evans heard, with
equal efficacy, in the dining-room of the late duke, which had been
appropriated to the vendition of the books; and within that same space (some
thirty-five feet by twenty,) were such deeds of valour performed, and such
feats of book-heroism achieved, as had never been previously beheld: and of
which the like will probably never be seen again. The shouts of the victors
and the groans of the vanquished, stunned and appalled you as you entered.
The throng and press, both of idle spectators and determined bidders, was
unprecedented. A sprinkling of Caxtons and De Wordes marked the first day;
and these were obtained at high, but comparatively with the subsequent sums
given, moderate prices. Theology, jurisprudence, philosophy, and
philology, chiefly marked the earlier days of this tremendous contest:
and occasionally, during these days, there was much stirring up of courage,
and many hard and heavy blows were interchanged; and the combatants may be
said to have completely wallowed themselves in the conflict. At length came
poetry, Latin, Italian, and French; a steady fight yet continued to
be fought: victory seemed to hang in doubtful scales—sometimes on the one,
sometimes on the other side of Mr Evans—who preserved throughout, (as it was
his bounden duty to preserve,) a uniform, impartial, and steady course; and
who may be said, on that occasion, if not to have ‘rode the whirlwind,’ at
least to have ‘directed the storm.’ At length came ENGLISH POETRY!! and with
that came the tug and trial of war: Greek met Greek: in other words, grandee
was opposed to grandee; and the indomitable Atticus was compelled to retire,
stunned by the repeated blows upon his helmet. The lance dropped from his
hand, and a swimming darkness occasionally skimmed his view—for on that day,
the Waterloo among book-battles, many a knight came far and wide from
his retirement, and many an unfledged combatant left his father’s castle to
partake of the glory of such a contest. Among these knights from a ‘far
countree’ no one shot his arrows with a more deadly effect than Astiachus!
But it was reserved for Romulus to reap the greatest victories in that
poetic contest! He fought with a choice body-guard; and the combatants
seemed amazed at the perseverance and energy with which that body-guard
dealt their death-blows around them!
"Dramatic Poetry
followed; what might be styled rare and early pieces
connected with our ancient poetry; but the combat now took a more tranquil
turn: as after ‘a smart brush’ for an early Shakspeare or two,
Atticus and Coriolanus, with a few well known dramatic aspirants, obtained
almost unmolested possession of the field.
"At this period, to keep up
our important metaphor, the great Roxburgh day of battle had been
somewhere half gone through, or decided. There was no disposition, however,
on either side to relax from former efforts; when (prepare for something
terrific!) the Romance: made their appearance; and just at this
crisis it was that more blood was spilt, and more ferocity exhibited, than
had ever been previously witnessed."
We interrupt Mr Dibdin to
mention, that the great blow of the day was struck for that volume
which has been already alluded to, as purchased by the duke’s father for a
hundred guineas,--a volume of singular value, which Mr Nichol very properly
intitles the most notorious in existence—the Decameron of Boccaccio,
printed (folio) by Christopher Valdarfer at Venice in 1471, and supposed to
be quite unique. "Mr Nichol, in his avant-courier of a preface," thus writes
Mr Dibdin in a note, "had not a little provoked the bibliomaniacal appetites
of his readers: telling them that ‘in the class of Italian poets and
novelists was the first edition of Il Decamerone di Boccaccio, 1471. This
was certainly one of the scarcest, if not the very scarcest book, that
existed. It has now for upwards of 300 years preserved its uniquity, if that
term be allowable.’ It was also previously known that this very book had
been a sort of bone of contention among the collectors in the reign of the
two first Georges. Lord Sunderland had seen it, and lord Oxford had cast a
longing eye thereupon; but it was reserved for an ancestor of the duke of
Roxburgh to secure it—for the gallant price of 100 guineas! This purchase
took place before the year 1740. * * I have a perfect recollection of this
notorious volume, while in the library of the late duke. It had a faded
yellow morocco binding, and was a sound rather than a fine copy. The
expectations formed of the probable price for which it would be sold were
excessive; yet not so excessive as the price itself turned out to be. The
marked champions were pretty well known beforehand to be the earl Spencer,
the marquis of Blandford (now duke of Marlborough), and the duke of
Devonshire. Such a rencontre, such a ‘shock of fight,’ naturally begot
uncommon curiosity. My friends, Sir Egerton Bridges, Mr Lang, and Mr G. H.
Freeling, did me the kindness to breakfast with me on the morning of the
sale—and upon the conclusion of the repast, Sir Egerton’s carriage conveyed
us from Kensington to St James’s Square.
--The morning lowered
And heavily with clouds came on the day—
Big with the fate of . . and of . . .
In fact the rain fell in
torrents, as we lighted from the carriage and rushed with a sort of
impetuosity to gain seats to view the contest. The room was crowded to
excess; and a sudden darkness which came across gave rather an additional
interest to the scene. At length the moment of sale arrived. Evans prefaced
the putting up of the article by an appropriate oration, in which he
expatiated upon its excessive rarity, and concluded by informing the company
of the regret and even ‘anguish of heart’ expressed by Mr Van Praet
[librarian to the emperor Napoleon] that such a treasure was not to be found
in the imperial collection at Paris. Silence followed the address of Mr
Evans. On his right hand, leaning against the wall, stood earl Spencer: a
little lower down, and standing at right angles with his lordship, appeared
the marquis of Blandford. Lord Althorp stood a little backward to the right
of his father, earl Spencer. Such was ‘the ground taken up’ by the adverse
hosts. The honour of firing the first shot was due to a gentleman of
Shropshire, unused to this species of warfare, and who seemed to recoil from
the reverberation of the report himself had made!—‘One hundred guineas,’ he
exclaimed. Again a pause ensued; but anon the biddings rose rapidly to 500
guineas. Hitherto, however, it was evident that the firing was but masked
and desultory. At length all random shots ceased; and the champions before
named stood gallantly up to each other, resolving not to flinch from a trial
of their respective strengths.
‘A thousand guineas’
were bid by earl Spencer--to which the
marquis added ‘ten.’ You might have heard a pin drop. All eyes were
turned—all breathing well nigh stopped--every sword was put home within its
scabbard—and not a piece of steel was seen to move or to glitter, except
that which each of these champions brandished in his valorous hand. See,
see!--they parry, they lunge, they bet: yet their strength is undiminished,
and no thought of yielding is entertained by either. Two thousand pounds
are offered by the marquis. Then it was that earl Spencer, as a prudent
general, began to think of a useless effusion of blood and expenditure of
ammunition—seeing that his adversary was as resolute and ‘fresh’ as at the
onset. For a quarter of a minute he paused: when my lord Althorp advanced
one step forward, as if to supply his father with another spear for the
purpose of renewing the contest. His countenance was marked by a fixed
determination to gain the prize--if prudence, in its most commanding form,
and with a frown of unusual intensity of expression, had not bade him
desist. The father and son for a few seconds converse apart; and the
biddings are resumed. ‘Two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds’
said lord Spencer! The spectators were now absolutely electrified. The
marquis quietly adds his usual ‘ten,’ * * and there is an end of
the contest. Mr Evans, ere his hammer fell made a due pause—and indeed,
as if by something preternatural, the ebony instrument itself seemed to be
charmed or suspended ‘in the mid air.’ However, at length, down dropped the
hammer. * * The spectators," continues Mr Dibdin in his text, "stood aghast!
and the sound of Mr Evans’ prostrate sceptre of dominion reached, and
resounded from, the utmost shores of Italy. The echo of that fallen hammer
was heard in the libraries of Rome, of Milan, and St Mark. Boccaccio himself
started from his slumber of some five hundred years; and Mr Van Praet
rushed, but rushed in vain, amidst the royal book-treasures at Paris to see
if a copy of the said Valdarfer Boccaccio could there be found! The
price electrified the bystanders, and astounded the public! [The marquis’s
triumph was marked by a plaudit of hands, and presently after he offered his
hand to lord Spencer, saying, "We are good friends still!" His lordship
replied, "Perfectly, indeed I am obliged to you." "So am I to you," said the
marquis; "so the obligation is mutual." He declared that it was his
intention have gone as far as 5000 pounds. The noble marquis had previously
possessed a copy of the same edition, wanting five leaves; "for which five
leaves," lord S. remarked, "he might be said to have given 2000 pounds."]
"What boots it to recount
minutely the various achievements which marked the conclusion of the
Roxburgh contest, or to describe in the manner of Sterne, the melancholy
devastations which followed that deathless day? The battle languished
towards its termination (rather we suspect, from a failure of ammunition
than of valour or spirit on the part of the combatants); but
notwithstanding, there was oftentimes a disposition manifested to resume the
glories of the earlier part of the day—and to show that the spirit of
bibliomania was not made of poor and perishable stuff. Illustrious be the
names of the book-heroes, who both conquered and fell during the tremendous
conflict just described! And let it be said, that John duke of Roxburgh both
deserved well of his country and the book cause."
Mr Dibdin gives many other
instructive particulars respecting this sale. He mentions that the duke’s
library occupied a range of apartments in the second floor of his house; and
in a room adjoining, and into which the library opened, "slept and died" the
illustrious collector himself. "All his migrations," says Mr Dibdin "were
confined to these two rooms. When Mr Nichol showed me the very bed upon
which this bibliomaniacal duke had expired, I felt--as I trust I ought to
have felt, upon the occasion!" He also informs us that a gentleman who
bought many articles was generally understood to be an agent of the emperor
Napoleon, but at last turned out to have been a secret emissary of the duke
of Devonshire. A letter which he received from Sir Walter Scott on the
occasion of this sale, is too characteristic to be omitted. "The Roxburgh
sale," says the author of Marmion, "sets my teeth on edge. But if I can
trust mine eyes, there are now twelve masons at work on a cottage and
offices at this little farm, which I purchased last year. Item, I have
planted thirty acres, and am in the act of walling a garden. Item, I have a
wife and four bairns crying, as our old song has it, ‘porridge ever mair.’
So, on the whole, my teeth must get off the edge, as those of the fox with
the grapes in the fable. Abbotsford, by Melrose, 3rd May,
1812."
It would be improper, in a
memoir of the duke of Roxburgh, to omit a circumstance so honourable to his
name as the formation of the society called the "Roxburgh." "The number of
noblemen and gentlemen," says Sir Walter Scott, [Quarterly Review, xiiv.
447.] "distinguished by their taste for this species of literature, who
assembled there (at the sale) from day to day, and lamented or boasted the
event of the competition, was unexampled; and in short the concourse of
attendants terminated in the formation of a society of about thirty
amateurs, having the learned and amiable earl Spencer at their head, who
agreed to constitute a club, which should have for its object of union the
common love of rare and curious volumes, and should be distinguished by the
name of that nobleman, at the dispersion of whose library the proposal had
taken its rise, and who had been personally known to most of the members. We
are not sure whether the publication of rare tracts was an original object
of their friendly re-union, or, if it was not, how and when it came to be
engrafted thereupon. Early, however, after the formation of the Roxburgh
Club, it became one of its rules, that each member should present the
society, at such time as he might find most convenient, with an edition of a
curious manuscript, or the reprint of some ancient tract, the
selection being left at the pleasure of the individual himself. These books
were to be printed in a handsome manner, and uniformly, and were to be
distributed among the gentlemen of the club. * * * Under this system, the
Roxburgh Club has proceeded and flourished for many years, and produced
upwards of forty reprints of scarce and curious tracts, among which many are
highly interesting, not only from their value, but also their intrinsic
merit."
It remains only to be added,
that this association has been the model of several others in different
parts of the world. We are aware, at least, of La Societé des Biblioglyphes
in Paris, and the Bannatyne, Maitland, and Abbotsford Clubs in our own
country. Such institutions show that a taste for literary antiquities is
extending amongst us; yet it must also be stated, that the desire of forming
libraries such as that of the duke of Roxburgh is much on the decline, and
that if his grace’s stock had been brought to the hammer in our own day, it
would have neither created the sensation which it did create, nor brought
such "astounding" prices. |