A shoestring circulating library

 Well, after the Christmas and New Year break, it was back to cataloguing the Athenaeum's historic book collection. I'd managed to complete shelves A4 and A5 before the seasonal break, so today I made a start on A3. (A1 and A2 need a ladder, which has health and safety implications, principally that there's someone else there to call triple zero in case I miss my step and fall off the damned thing.)

Before Christmas I'd accumulated enough evidence to show that the people running the library in the latter part of the nineteenth century were buying second hand books discarded by Mullen's circulating library in Melbourne, or imported second had books from England.

Not all books were bought second hand but quite a few of them have been, including this copy of JM Barrie's A Window in Thrums, dating to 1890.

Initially it didn't look to be terribly promising with a circulating library label on the front of the book.

The label was in poor condition and only just legible

but if you stare at it you can make out the words Horsham and Mechanics Institute. At this point I was envisaging the fun I had tracing the circulating library in Ryde, but they had made it easy for me, with a second copy of the label on the inside fly leaf

showing it came from the Horsham Mechanics's Institute - that's Horsham Victoria, not the one in England. 

There was a mechanics institute in the English Horsham but it seems to have closed down in the 1860s. Given that the book in question was published in 1890, I feel confident in saying it is from the Horsham in the western district of Victoria.

We have a partial provenance in the form or two handwritten notes on the flyleaf, one to say it was acquired for 6/- on 02/01/1891 and a second note in a different hand saying it was acquired on 13/12/1901, presumably by the Athenaeum.

In contrast to the Athenaeum, which was clearly run on the smell of an oily rag the Mechanics Institute in Horsham was a well funded organisation which regularly purchased new books as in this article in the Horsham Times of 28 June 1912.

(Horsham Mechanics Institute Building in 2008 - wikimedia commons)

The Mechanics Institute later transitioned to become Horsham's public library. The old Mechanic's Institute building is no longer the town library, but is now home to the Horsham Historical Society.

I had a look on StreetView and the building still looked much the same in 2024, rather unglamorously located next to a Bunning's carpark ...

I guess the only remaining question is why gentlemen were charged a quarterly subscription of three shillings but ladies were charged 2/6. Was it, given the attitudes of the time, because men were expected to use it for serious study, while women only used it to read romances and sensation novels ...?

The circulating library in Ryde

 That's Ryde, IoW, in England, not the suburb of Sydney.

I'd previously mentioned that while cataloguing a Victorian triple decker up at the Athenaeum, one volume had come from Mudie's, one from a Mudie's franchisee in Weymouth and one from a circulating library in Union Street Ryde.

Identifying the library has been tricky, but a discussion with Ann Barrett of the Ryde Historical Society has confirmed that the most likely source is either the long established circulating library at the Assembly rooms in Ryde, or another more commercial enterprise run initially by the Misses Gibbs.

Crucially, neither of them seem to have been Mudie's franchisees, suggesting that they were buying second hand books from Mudie's and perhaps elsewhere, and then selling them on for export to Australia ...

In connection with Mudie's

 Sometimes the simplest ideas are the best

I guessed that the phrase "in connection with Mudie's" on John Pruddah's library labels might be a standard phrase used by Mudie's franchisees, so I searched Welsh Newspapers online for adverts using the phrase and got just under 700 hits

Some of the adverts are obviously repeats but a quick eyeball survey suggests that it occurred multiple times in multiple newspapers, meaning that there were circulating libraries affiliated with Mudie's in not only the major towns and cities of Wales 

but also in those towns we can identify as nineteenth century holiday resorts such as Llandudno

Woodley's Llandudno

and in Aberystwyth which was then both a university town and a popular holiday resort

Book Depot, Aberystwyth

Using the SLV's subscription to Gale Newsvault to search nineteenth century British newspapers produces quite a few hits including this one from the Stirling Observer in Scotland

No Irish newspapers appear and a search of the Irish Times archive only produces articles about Mudie's, but no advertising, similarly a search for 'circulating library' produces a reasonable number of hits, but again no mention of Mudie's suggesting they did not operate in Ireland.

Equally, in 1886 WH Smith sold their railway bookstall business in Ireland to Eason's. Eason's went on to become the dominant chain of booksellers in Ireland and operated their own circulating libraries.

John Pruddah

 Richard Samways of the local history team at Weymouth Museum went above and beyond in providing me with further background information on John Pruddah, the owner of a major circulating library in Weymouth, in the 1870s. 

Curiously, a book with a label from his library, pasted over a Mudie's label, turned up in the Stanley Athenaeum historic book collection.

How it got there is important for understanding the mid Victorian book trade in Australia, and hence I began to investigate Mr Pruddah.

John Pruddah was born in the 1840s in Hexham, Northumberland where his father, Edward was a printer and bookseller.

(His brother, also Edward, took over the running of the family business, and after his early death in 1879, his business was managed by Edward junior's wife until it was sold a few years later.

Interestingly an archive of the Hexham Pruddah's jobbing printwork - flyers, posters etc, came to light a year or two ago.)

John Pruddah didn't join the family firm, but moved to London where he worked for Mudie's Circulating Library before buying the Royal Library in Weymouth in 1869 - George III had visited Weymouth for his health, and was arguably responsible for turning it into a fashionable resort. 

Several Weymouth businesses styled themselves as Royal as a consequence, but in reality they had no more connection with royalty than a chocolate royal.

John originally managed the business with his sister and quickly became an agent for Mudie's.

Clean copy of the Royal Library label above, the partial label from Stanley below - click to enlarge and compare

and was offering books for holiday reading. 

In a list published in the local newspaper in July 1872 the books on offer included Middlemarch by George Eliot, Ombra by Mrs Oliphant, Poor Miss Finch by Wilkie Collins, and Robert Ainsleigh by Mary Elizabeth Braddon.

John Pruddah married Lucy Jane Bradbury in 1872 and their daughter Charlotte was born the following year.

In 1875 John Pruddah sold the business, including the stock of 3500 books, returned north to the industrial boom town of Middlesborough - then in the North Riding of Yorkshire, now in North Yorkshire, where he ran a successful booksellers for many years.

So, John Pruddah was obviously a shrewd businessman, but for our purposes the key takeaway is that Mudie's did appoint agents who had a formal agreement of some kind and perhaps an arrangement to be supplied with books from Mudie's stock.

Quite how the books ended up in Australia is still an open question...

(with thanks to Richard Samways and the Weymouth Museum for their assistance with this post)

The Mystery of the mid Victorian second hand book trade

 In the 1870s, the patrons of the Athenaeum library had a taste for sensation novels, including those by Mary Elizabeth Braddon.

Among those in the collection is a triple decker edition of the now almost forgotten Lost for Love, one of her less popular novels.

We have all three volumes, one with a Mudie's circulating library label, one with  a label from Pruddah's Royal Library, a circulating library in Weymouth, Dorset, pasted over the original Mudie's label and the third with a label from a library in Ryde also pasted over the original label.

I've not been able (so far) to trace the Ryde library, but the local history team at the Weymouth Museum have been helpful as regards Mr Pruddah.

The 1871 census shows that Mr Pruddah was a bookseller and printer in Weymouth who, like a lot of booksellers at the time, also ran a circulating library.

 

 

A little bit of digging shows that in the 1870's Mr Pruddah was advertising 'Books for Seaside Reading' in the local press. Annoyingly, the State Library of Victoria does not provide free access to the British Newspaper Archive, meaning I can search the index but not read the articles.

Mr Pruddah's library label proclaims itself in connection with Mudie's - exactly what his relationship with Mudie's was is not clear.

The third volume came from a library in Ryde (presumably the Ryde on the Isle of Wight - Union Street being one of the main streets in Ryde), again with a Mudie's label just visble underneath the Ryde library's label.

which is interesting as both Weymouth and Ryde were well known tourist resorts in the mid Victorian period.

Weymouth in the mid Victorian period

(source unknown)

In the mid Victorian period it was not uncommon for people summering in the town to join the local circulating library - this is probably why the circulating library charged half a guinea (10s6d or a little over fifty pounds or A$100 in today's money), half the subscription cost of Mudie's, knowing full well that most visitors would be unlikely to stay more than a month or two.

It also shows that these libraries were buying their books second hand from Mudie's as a way of keeping their costs down - or possibly they had an arrangement with Mudie's to be supplied with books that were returned after the summer season was over. I'm speculating wildly here, but such an arrangement could explain Pruddah's in connection with Mudie's claim on his labels.

However, what is more interesting from the Australian point of view is that it was obviously worth some second hand book dealer's time to package up books discarded by circulating libraries (remember in this case, possibly an extreme example, each volume came from a different library) and export them to Australia for resale...

(Many thanks to the Weymouth Museum and their volunteers for helping identify Mr Pruddah)

Two more yellowbacks ...

 Well, Walter Besant seems to have been pretty popular with the good folk of Stanley in the late nineteenth century, with today's guerrilla cataloguing uncovering another two yellowback editions of his books -

By Celia's Arbour and The Monks of Thelema, both written in collaboration with James Rice.

Both novels were originally published as Victorian triple-deckers, but these Chatto and Windus yellowbacks contain the whole novel as a single volume.

As can be seen, time has not been kind to the books and they are in a pretty fragile condition, perhaps a reflection of their popularity at the time...

Bookcover artwork from 1895

 

Up at the Athenaeum, I've been pressing on with the guerrilla cataloguing exercise, and I came across this rather battered 1895 edition of Dorothy Forster by Walter Besant - popular in his time for his historical romances and more or less forgotten now.

However, the book is interesting for two reasons - the use of colour on the cover and the fact that this is an Australian edition published by George Robertson & Co.

The history of Australian publishing in the 1890's is confusing with two George Robertsons, one of whom at one time worked for the other, but were not related to each other.

The elder George Robertson was the erstwhile partner of Samuel Mullen. Melbourne based, he was primarily a bookseller although he did begin to publish books. The younger George Robertson later went into partnership with David Angus to found Angus and Robertson, which was Sydney based.

This book is published by the Melbourne based publisher by arrangement with the UK publishers.

This is interesting because, at a time when most books in Australia were imported, George Robertson and Co were printing editions of popular novels in Australia, probably from the original stereotype shipped from England to save the cost of resetting the type.

The need to ship the stereotype from England may explain why one or two of the George Robertson reprints have publication dates a year later than the British originals.

The other interesting use is that while most of the books I catalogued today had fairly standard boring late Victorian covers, this one has a colour lithograph stuck to the cover of the book, in much the same way we might expect an illustrated cover on a paperback today.

Not all Victorian publishers listed the date of publication on the title page of their books. Most did, some didn't, and some did when they felt like it. Infuriatingly, while some other books republished in Australia by George Robertson had a publication date, this book didn't.

In an attempt to track down the publication date I searched ebay, as a lot of book collectors but and sell there,   where I turned up a copy of the same book with the same cover illustration, but published by Chatto and Windus in London in 1895.

The Chatto and Windus edition was described as a yellowback, a term I had not come across before. I'd come across cheap paperbound books such as in this copy of An African Millionaire while documenting Lake View House for the National Trust

but I'd never come across the term 'yellowback' before.

Yellowbacks, sometimes called 'railway novels', were cheaply produced mass market books that filled the role of paperbacks in the nineteenth century. Cheaply produced, few survive, and while the early editions had plain covers, later on it became the norm for them to have an illustrated, often lithographed cover.

Unlike clothbound books from the nineteenth century, few yellowbacks have survived due to the cheap materials used in their manufacture. The copy of Dorothy Forster in the Athenaeum's collection is a sort of half way house with a conventional binding but the cover is made of thin cardboard and the spine, which is detaching, is made of something resembling cartridge paper.

Other cheap books from the nineteenth century,  shilling shockers like the one above, are even more cheaply made with heavy gauge paper covers and metal staples used in place of a conventional binding, which can pose conservation problems...

(I have also come across the steel staple method in old Penguin and Pelican books produced in England during the Second World War. I’m guessing that the use of staples was to both reduce production costs and save on materials.)