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Chapter Seven q q q What News on the Rialto Maneuvers in the Rare Book Market What news on the Rialto? The Merchant of Venice, 1.3.38 The scene: Sotheby’s, London, December 1919. Tension was palpable in the hushed auction room. At stake was ownership of the only known 1599 copy of Shakespeare’s first printed work, Venus and Adonis. Key collectors vying for this treasure, however, were absent. They were home in America. While many collectors frequented local shops for antiquarian and rare books, the wealthy few used commission agents to represent them at book auctions. The “knocking-down” of an item to a new owner after a brief, fast-paced public sale often followed strategic discussions between buyer and agent, emanating from a solid relationship built on trust and a determined belief that both could emerge big winners. Sir Montague Barlow, who had been knighted the year before, wielded the auction gavel at the December 16 Britwell Court sale at Sotheby’s. Bald and mustachioed , a white carnation in his lapel, he stood at a wooden rostrum towering above two dozen hopeful bidders seated around a horseshoe-shaped table.1 Clad in dark business suits, seated uncomfortably close to one another, the agents held pencils poised above a heavily marked forty-page itemized sale catalog and a sheaf of notes—bids from distant clients. A clerk positioned at a nearby table recorded every bid, intoned clearly and loudly by Sir Montague. A sales team porter, when signaled, carried an item to a bidder’s seat for closer examination. Behind the principal bidders stood several gentlemen, some wearing hats, keenly observing every move. Representing Henry Folger from New York was E. H. Dring, chief bookman at Quaritch’s of London. Representing Henry E. Huntington from California was George D. Smith, bookseller extraordinaire of New York. Early on, bids for lot 85 came from several spots in the room. As the price climbed above £13,000, however, Dring and Smith—sitting apart from each other—were the only ones still bidding. What News on the Rialto 109 Neither said a word, but each bid with a different gesture: Dring nodded slightly; Smith flicked his thumb. In increments of £100, the bid rose to £14,000 after five nods and five flicks. Stifled excitement mounted as bidders watched Dring’s forehead , then Smith’s hand. Soon, Dring nodded at £15,000. Smith flicked at £15,100. Dring sat without moving. Sir Montague bit his mustache, his face as white as his lapel carnation. After a pause, he asked if there were another bid, then brought down the hammer. The audience erupted in cheers and applause. Smith’s purchase of the Shakespeare gem for Huntington at £15,100 ($60,000) was the highest price ever paid for a printed book at a public sale.2 q Far away from such high drama, the Folgers—like any collectors of art, furniture, or books—used their home to plot their collecting strategies. Together they established mechanisms and followed patterns for discovery, communications, delivery, payment, recordkeeping, and storage. Henry and Emily’s “Rialto” lay not in Venice but on the dock of New York harbor and in the auction house, book dealer shops, and news accounts of pending estate sales on both sides of the Atlantic. The Folgers discovered items to enhance their collection by subscribing to European and American book auction catalogs. A single catalog might run more than a hundred pages and describe more than a thousand items. The Folgers’ catalog collection would stretch over two-thirds of a football field. Emily studied the catalogs first, turning down the top corner of the page, then making a wavy line or inserting a penciled question mark by items that caught her eye. At the end of the day, she would greet her husband at the door with her “finds.” Henry found an auction catalog “as fascinating as a novel.” Another element in their discovery system consisted of a network of clipping bureaus. Starting about 1910, Folger subscribed to the services of several companies: four in New York, one in Washington, one in Boston, and two abroad. One, the Manhattan Press Clipping Bureau, culled 12,000 newspapers and periodicals every week, charging clients $35 per thousand clippings. Some of these firms were created in the late 1800s and could retrieve useful notices of old sales. Emily took charge of organizing the sheaves of clippings that arrived in the mail. The Folgers followed closely...

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