Thomas Cadell.1742–1802.
Thomas Cadell.1742–1802.
Thomas Cadell.
1742–1802.
The practice, we have already referred to, of booksellers fraternising pleasantly together for the purpose of bringing out expensive editions at a lessened risk, led to many famous associations, the earliest ofwhich, the “Congers,” will be dealt with hereafter in connection with the history of families still represented in the trade, but the “Chapter Coffee House” is too important to be passed over altogether.
There is an amusing account of the Chapter Coffee House in the first number of theConnoisseur. It “is frequented by those encouragers of learning, the booksellers.... Their criticisms are somewhat singular. When they say a good book, they do not mean to praise the style or sentiment, but the quick and extensive sale of it.... A few nights ago I saw one of these gentlemen take up a sermon, and after seeming to peruse it for some time, with great attention, he declared it was ‘very good English.’ The reader will judge whether I was most surprised or diverted, when I discovered that he was not commending the purity or elegance of the diction, but the beauty of the type, which, it seems, is known among the printers by that appellation.... The character of the bookseller is generally formed on the writers in his service. Thus one is a politician or a deist; another affects humour, or aims at turns of wit or repartee; while a third perhaps is grave, moral, and sententious.”
In this Coffee House the associated booksellers met to talk over their plans, and many a germ of most valuable projects was originated here; the books so published coming in time to be called “Chapter Books.” Among the chief members of the association were John Rivington, John Murray, and Thomas Longman, James Dodson, Alderman Cadell, Tom Davies, Robert Baldwin (whose name, if not family, figured in bookselling annals for a century and a half), Peter Elmsley, and Joseph Johnson. Johnson was Cowper’s publisher; the first volumes of the poemsfell dead, and he begged the author to think nothing further of the loss, which they had agreed to share. In gratitude Cowper sent him theTaskas a present; it was a wonderful success, and altogether Johnson is said to have made £10,000 out of Cowper’s poems. He assisted in the publication of theHomerwithout any compensation at all. The most important “Chapter books” were Johnson’sEnglish Poets, including hisLives of the English Poets, for which latter he received two hundred guineas, and a present of another hundred, and, on their re-publication in a separate edition, a fourth hundred. “Sir,” observed the Doctor to a friend, “I have always said the booksellers were a generous set of men. Nor in the present instance have I reason to complain. The fact is, not that they paid me too little, but that I have written too much.”
Of course when the booksellers met, the literary men were not far absent. “I am quite familiar” (writes poor Chatterton in his sad, boastful letters, meant to cheer up the hearts of the dear ones at home, while his own heart was breaking in London) “at the Chapter Coffee House, and know all the geniuses there. A character is now quite unnecessary; an author carries his character in his pen.”
Later on, the Chapter Coffee House became the place of call for poor parsons, who stood there ready for hire, on Sunday mornings, at sums varying from five shillings to a guinea. Sermons, too, were kept in stock here for purchase, or could be written, there and then, to order.
At the very close of the last century a fresh band of “Associated Booksellers” was formed, consisting of the following: Thomas Hood (father of the poet),John Cuthel, James Nunn, J. Lea, Lackington, Allen and Co., and others. The vignette which ornamented their books was a Beehive, with the inscription of “Associated,” and thus they got the title of the “Associated Busy Bees.”
Two of the principal booksellers towards the end of the last century, require, from the magnitude of their business, a somewhat lengthier notice.
George Robinson, born at Dalston near Carlisle, received his business training under John Rivington. In 1764 he started as a wholesale bookseller in Paternoster Row, and, by 1780, he could boast of the largest wholesale trade in London. Nor were the higher branches of his calling neglected, and in the purchase of copyrights he rivalled the oldest established firms. Among his publications we may mention theCritical Review, theTown and Country Magazine, and theNew Annual Register; theModern Universal History(in sixty volumes), theBiographica Britannica, and Russell’sAncient and Modern Europe;Bruce’s Travelsand theTravels of Anacharsis; the illustrated works of Hogarth, Bewick, and Heath; and the lighter productions of Macklin, Murphy, Godwin, Mrs. Inchbald, Mrs. Radcliffe, Dr. Moore, and Dr. Wolcot.
For theMysteries of UdolphoMrs. Radcliffe received five hundred guineas, the largest sum that had at that time been given for a novel, and Peter Pindar (Dr. Wolcot) made a still better bargain for his poems. They had already acquired a prodigious popularity, and in selling the copyright a question arose, as to whether they should be purchased for a lump sum or an annuity. While the treaty was pending Wolcot was seized with a violent and rather ostentatiousattack of asthma, which sadly interrupted him in discussing the arrangements, and he was eagerly offered an annuity of £250. The arrangement was made by Walker, a partner with Robinson in this transaction. Walker soon called to inquire after his friend’s illness, “Thank you, much better,” said Wolcot, “I have taken measure of my asthma, the fellow is troublesome, but I know his strength and am his master.” Walker’s face grew longer, and when he rejoined his wife in the next room, the doctor heard a shrill, feminine expostulation, “There, you’ve done it, I told you he wouldn’t die!” He outlived all the parties concerned, and was in his own case, perhaps, scarcely justified in originating the famous saying, “that publishers quaff champagne out of the skulls of authors.”
This over-eager parsimony was not in any way due to Robinson; his generosity to his authors was well known, and his house became a general rendezvous for the literary men of the day, who were heartily welcome whenever they chose to turn up, provided always that they did not come late for dinner. After Robinson’s death in 1801, his son and brother carried on the business, but met with reverses, principally through loss of stock at a fire; but the wonderful prices that were realized at the auction, consequent on their declared bankruptcy, fairly set them afloat again. One bookseller, alone, is said to have invested £40,000 at the sale, and even the copyright of Vyse’sShilling Spelling Bookwas sold for £2,500, with an annuity of fifty guineas a year to the old schoolmaster Vyse.
James Lackington, in hisMemoirs and Confessionshas left plenty of material, had we space, for anamusing and instructive biography. He was born at Wellington in 1746, and his father, a drunken cobbler, would not even pay the requisite twopence a week for his son’s education. Loafing about the streets all day as a child, he thought he might turn his wanderings to account by crying pies, and as a pie-boy he acquired such a pre-eminence that he was soon engaged to vend almanacs. At fourteen he left this vagrant life to be apprenticed to a shoemaker, and his master’s family becoming strong adherents to the new sect of Methodists, he too was converted, and would trudge, he says, through frost and snow at midnight to hear “an inspired husbandman, shoemaker, blacksmith, or a woolcomber” preach to ten or a dozen people, when he might have quietly stopped at home to listen to “the sensible and learned ministers at Taunton.”
However, what he heard “made me think they knew many matters of which I was totally ignorant,” and he set to work arduously at night to learn his letters, and when he was able to read, he bought Hobbe’sHomerat a bookstall, and found that his letters did but little in assisting his comprehension; however, in his zeal for knowledge he allowed himself “but three hours’ sleep in the twenty-four.” The art of writing was acquired in a similar manner, and then he started on a working tour, making shoes on the road for sustenance, but suffering many hardships and miseries. To make matters worse, at Bristol he married a young girl of his own class, whose ill-health, though he was passionately fond of her, added no little to his troubles. Accordingly he went to London, that for her sake he might earn higher wages, and not altogether unhopeful of the fortunes hehad heard were to be gained there by dogged hard work and endurance. They arrived with the typical half-crown in their pockets, and then Lackington, anxious to obtain the small legacy of £10 he had left at home, went for it personally; “it being such a prodigious sum that the greatest caution was used on both sides, so that it cost me about half the money in going down for it, and in returning to town again.” After working some time as a journeyman bookseller he opened a little cobbler’s shop; and, thinking he knew as much about books as the keeper of an old bookstall in the neighbourhood, wishing also to have opportunity for study, he invested a guinea in a bagful of old books. To increase his stock he borrowed £5 from a fund “Mr. Wesley’s people kept to lend out, for three months, without interest, to such of their society whose characters were good, and who wanted a temporary relief.... In our new situation we lived in a very frugal manner, often dining on potatoes and quenching our thirst with water; being absolutely determined, if possible, to make some provision for such dismal times as sickness, shortness of work, &c., which we had frequently been involved in before, and could scarcely help expecting not to be our fate again.” He soon found customers, and “as ‘soon laid out the money’ in other old trash which was daily brought for sale.”
James Lackington, Bookseller.1746–1816.
James Lackington, Bookseller.1746–1816.
James Lackington, Bookseller.
1746–1816.
In a short time he had realized £25, and was able to take a book-shop in Chiswell Street; and here he almost immediately lost his wife, which for a time involved him in the deepest distress, but in the following year he married again, and then resolved to quit his Wesleyan friends, a sect he thought incompatible with the dignity of a bookseller; indeed “Mr. Wesley oftentold his society in Broadment, Bristol, in my hearing, that he could never keep a bookseller six months in his flock.” From this time success uniformly attended his undertakings, and was due, he says, primarily to his invariable principle of selling at very low figures and only for ready-money. When he began to attend the trade sales he created consternation among his brethren. “I was very much surprised to learn that it was common for such as purchased remainders to destroy or burn one-half or three-fourths of such books, and to charge the full publication price, or nearly that, for such as they kept on hand.” With this rule he complied for a short time; but afterwards resolved to keep the whole stock. The trade endeavoured to hinder his appearance at the sale-rooms, but in time they were forced to yield, and he continued to sell off remainders at half or a quarter the published price.8“By selling them in this cheap manner, I have disposed of many hundred thousand volumes, many thousand of which have been intrinsically worth their original prices.” Such a method attracted a crowd of customers, and he soon began to buy manuscripts from authors. As to how his circumstances were improving we read, “I discovered that lodgings in the country were very healthy. The year after, my country lodging was transformed into a country house, and in another year the inconveniences attending a stage coach were remedied by a chariot,” on the doors of which “I have put a motto to remind me to what I am indebted to my prosperity, viz.:—Small Profits do Great Things.” Again, he was very fond of repeating,“I found all I possess in smallprofits, bound byindustryand clasped witheconomy.”
The shop in Chiswell Street was now changed into a huge building at the corner of Finsbury Square, grandly styled the “Temple of the Muses;” above it floated a flag, over the door was the inscription “Cheapest bookshop in the world,” and inside appeared the notice that “the lowest price is marked on every Book, and no abatement made on any article.” “Half-a-million of volumes” were said, according to his catalogue, “to be constantly on sale,” and these were arranged in galleries and rooms, rising in tiers—the more expensive books at the bottom, and the prices diminishing with every floor, but all numbered according to a catalogue, which Lackington compiled himself, and even the first he issued contained 12,000 volumes. During his first year at the “Temple of the Muses” he cleared £5000. In 1798, he was able to retire with a large fortune, and he again joined the Methodists, building and endowing three chapels for them, in contrition for having maligned them in his ramblingMemoirs. Latterly he was fond of travelling, and made a tour of bookselling inspection through England and Scotland, seeing discouraging signs in every town but Edinburgh, “where indeed a few capital articles are kept.” “At York and Leeds there were a few (and but very few) good books; but in all the other towns between London and Edinburgh nothing but trash was to be found.” In Scotland, he looked forward with great curiosity to seeing the women washing soiled linen in the rivers, standing bare-legged the while, and indeed this incident seems to have afforded him more gratification than any in his travels except the following: “In Bristol, Uxbridge,Bridgewater, Taunton, Wellington, and other places, I amused myself in calling on some of my masters, with whom I had, about twenty years before, worked as a journeyman shoemaker. I addressed each with ‘Pray, sir, have you got any occasion?’ which is the term made use of by journeymen in that useful occupation, when seeking employment. Most of these honest men had quite forgotten my person, as many of them had not seen me since I worked for them; so that it is not easy for you to conceive with what surprize and astonishment they gazed on me. For you must know that I had the vanity (I call it humour) to do this in my chariot, attended by my servants; and on telling them who I was all appeared to be very happy to see me.”
James Lackington died in his country house in Budleigh Lutterton, in Devonshire, in 1815. His life is an eminent example how a man of no attainments or advantages can conquer success by sheer hard work and perseverance.
Lackington was not the only man of his time who perceived that the conditions of literature were displaying at least a chance of change; that the circle of the book-buying public was incessantly enlarging, and that, by supplying the best books at the cheapest remunerative rates, not only would the progress of education be accelerated, but that the very speculation would bring fortune as well as honour to the innovators in the Trade. One of the first booksellers to adopt this principle was John Bell, whose name is still preserved inBell’s Weekly Messenger. HisBritish Poets,British TheatreandShakespeare, published in small pocket volumes, carried consternation into the trade, but scattered the Englishclassics broadcast among the people. He was the first to discard the long s. He was soon rivalled by Cook and Harrison, and all three were distinguished, not only by publishing in little pocket volumes, exquisitely printed, and embellished by the best artists for the many, what had before been produced in folios and quartos for the few, but as the inventors of the “number trade,” by which even expensive works were sold in small weekly portions to those to whom literature had hitherto been an unknown luxury. Such were theLives of Christ,The Histories of England,Foxe’s Book of Martyrs,Family Bibles with Notes, andThe Works of Flavius Josephus. Many of these “number books,” though of no great literary merit, exhibited every possible attraction on their copious title-pages, and were announced with the then novel terms of “beautiful,” “elegant,” “superb,” and “magnificent.”
Andrew Donaldson.(From an Etching by Kay. 1789.)
Andrew Donaldson.(From an Etching by Kay. 1789.)
Andrew Donaldson.
(From an Etching by Kay. 1789.)
Stationers’ Hall, near Paternoster Row.(From an Etching by R. Cole. 1750.)
Stationers’ Hall, near Paternoster Row.(From an Etching by R. Cole. 1750.)
Stationers’ Hall, near Paternoster Row.
(From an Etching by R. Cole. 1750.)
But the pioneer to whom the cheap book-buying public is most indebted was Alexander Donaldson, who, though an Edinburgh man, fought out his chief battles among his London brethren. Donaldson’s contemporaries in Edinburgh in the middle of the eighteenth century were Bell, Ellis, and Creech, the only bookseller worth recording before that date being Alexander Ramsay, the poet. Donaldson having struck out the idea of publishing cheap reprints of popular works, extended his business by starting a bookshop in the Strand, London—a step that brought him into collision with the London publishers—and authors, for Johnson calls him “a fellow who takes advantage of the state of the law to injure his brethren ... and supposing he did reduce the price of books is no better than Robin Hood who robbedthe rich in order to give to the poor.” In 1771, Donaldson reprinted Thomson’sSeasons, and an action at law was brought against him by certain booksellers. He proved that the work in question had first been printed in 1729, that its author died in 1748, and that the copyright consequently expired in 1757; and the Lords decided in his favour, thereby settling finally the vulgar and traditional theory that copyright was the interminable possession of the purchaser. To follow this interesting question for a moment. In Anne’s reign it was decided that copyright was to last for fourteen years, with an additional term of fourteen years, provided that the author was alive at the expiry of the first. In 1773–4, following upon Donaldson’s prosecution, a bill to render copyright perpetual passed through the Commons, but was thrown out in the Lords, and in 1814 the term of fourteen years and a conditional fourteen was extended to a definite and invariable period of twenty-eight years. Finally in 1842, the present law was passed, by which the term was prolonged to forty-two years, but the copyright was not to expire in any case before seven years after the author’s death.
Donaldson left a very large fortune, which was greatly augmented by his son, who bequeathed the total amount, a quarter of a million, to found an educational hospital for poor children in Edinburgh, under the title of “Donaldson’s Hospital.”
During the period under review the localities affected by the bookselling and publishing trade had greatly changed and altered. The stalls of the “Chap. Book” venders had disappeared from London Bridge and the Exchange, and even Little Britain had been entirely vacated. Little Britain, from the time of thefirst Charles to Mary and William, was as famous for books as Paternoster Row afterwards became. But, even in 1731, a writer in theGentleman’s Magazinesays, “The race of booksellers in Little Britain is now almost extinct; honest Ballard, well known for his curious divinity catalogues (he was said to have been the first to print a catalogue), being then the only genuine representative ... it was, in the middle of the last century, a plentiful and learned emporium of learned authors, and men went thither as to a market. This drew to the place a mighty trade, the rather because the shops were spacious and the learned gladly resorted to them, where they seldom failed to meet with agreeable conversations.” The son of this Ballard died in 1796, and was by far the best of the Little Britain booksellers. When the “trade” deserted Little Britain, about the reign of Queen Anne, they took up their abode in Paternoster Row, then principally in the hands of mercers, haberdashers, and lace-men—a periodical in 1705 mentioning even the “semptresses of Paternoster Row;” for the old manuscript venders, who had christened the whole neighbourhood, had died out centuries before. It now became the headquarters of publishers and more especially of old booksellers, but with the introduction of magazines and “copy” books, that latter portion of the trade migrated elsewhere, and the street assumed its present appearance of wholesale warehouses, and general and periodical publishing houses. It was not long indeed before the tide of fashion carried many of the eminent firms westward, and the movement in that direction is still apparent.