Rebuilding the book collection, 1705–1743

AFTER 1705 the college, in the words of Hugh Jones, “revived and improved out of its own Ruins.”^[1] Reconstruction of the charred edifice got under way with the help of funds contributed by Queen Anne.^[2] Governor Alexander Spotswood, another patron of the undertaking, was able to report in 1716 that “the building is well nigh compleated again [and] those under whose Care it is, have resolved to prosecute the original design of its foundation.”^[3] The college board of visitors, reasonably apprehensive, took appropriate measures to insure the safety of the structure. William Craig, appointed porter in 1716, was given explicit directions to permit no vagrants “to loyter or lodge in the sd Colledge” and to see that “the chimneys be kept clean swept.”^[4] The visitors also prudently ordered from England “1 ingine for Quenching Fire” and “2 Doz: leather Bucketts with the Colledge Cypher thereon.”^[5]

The fabric of the building was modified somewhat during the course of its restoration. But there is no reason to believe that the changes, mainly on the exterior, brought about any substantial rearrangement of the interior. A room was definitely set aside for the library.^[6] Yet again there are no surviving clues as to its specific location. Notations referring to the assignment of student living quarters later in the century show that it was not on the first floor.^[7] And it is not likely that it would have been given space on the third floor, which, in the reconstructed edifice, was reduced on the main front to a half-story lighted by dormer windows. The sloping walls of the modified third-floor rooms would have made them unsuitable for the placement of the presses and cases needed in shelving books. This leaves only the second floor, which is doubtless where the room was located. It can be said with certainty that it did not have northern or southern exposures, for it was flanked by rooms that were occupied as living quarters by students.^[8]

The college in 1716 began to acquire academic qualifications that made proper library facilities essential. Two chairs of learning were filled, the one combining philosophy and mathematics going to Rev. Hugh Jones. Jones had performed his undergraduate and graduate work at Jesus College, Oxford, where he had learned what to expect of an institution of higher learning. These ideas, applied to Virginia, were ably expounded in his Present state of Virginia published in 1724.

Little had been done to invigorate the library program prior to Jones’s arrival. Indeed, the first reference to a library accession after the fire of 1705 occurs in 1716 in connection with the dismissal from the faculty of the unfortunate Arthur Blackamore. President Blair and Mungo Ingles had violently parted company in 1705, at which time Blackamore succeeded Ingles as head of the grammar school. But, alas, Blackamore was more often in his cups than out and finally, in 1716, was placed on probation by the board of visitors. “If he behaves himselfe well,” the visitors decided, “he [is to] be allowed and paid £12 curr[e]nt money.”^[9] But the reward was not high enough. After one final binge the wretched schoolmaster was summarily dismissed, only to undergo humiliating financial embarrassment in seeking passage home to England. The board of visitors generously acquitted Blackamore of sizable debts due the college and ordered that “the Books & Globes belonging to the said Blackamore be valued and purchased for the use of the Colledge Library.”^[10] No receipts or other records remain to show what the library acquired through this dispensation. In view of Blackamore’s training-he was a graduate of Christ Church, Oxford-it is reasonable to suppose that his books reflected the classical tradition in which he had been grounded.^[11]

The only surviving proof that English friends of the college remembered the depleted status of its library resources during the period of reconstruction can be found in a copy of John Gibbon’s lntroductio ad Latinam blasoniam held by the Library of Congress. A longhand inscription on the flyleaf states:

Ego: Author [sic] huius libri, donavi eundem Bibliothecae Collegij nuper fundati in Virginia. Sic Testor propria mea manuscriptione aetatis meae 87: 1717.

[signed] Johannes Gibbon.

Gibbon had enjoyed the hospitality of Virginia in 1659 and 1660 as the guest of Colonel Richard Lee. In 1660, after the restoration of the Stuarts, he returned to England and devoted the remainder of a long life (1629–1718) to heraldic pursuits. His lntroductio ad Latinam blasoniam contains textual references to his sojourn in Virginia, and the Library of Congress copy is embellished with manuscript annotations also relating to his stay in the colony. Both the Latin inscription quoted above and the manuscript notes were characteristic of the author. His biographer explains that after Gibbon was promoted to the College of Arms as Bluemantle Pursuivant “he injured himself by his arrogance towards his less learned superiors . . . whose shortcomings he had an unpleasant habit of registering in the margins of library books, which he also filled with calculations of his own nativity.”^[12] A good Latinist (has concluded that the Library of Congress copy “of this book”—huius libri—was almost certainly not the copy that Gibbon donated to the college in 1717. Gibbon’s use of the word “the same”—eundem—in his reference to the gift, the Latinist explains, consequently means no more than a copy of the “same ” work.^[13]

Hugh Jones was distressed by the inadequacies of the book collection that he found at the college in 1716. Even so, the hopeless picture of the library that he painted in 1724 has familiar undertones of promotional endeavor:

For it is now a College without a Chapel, without a Scholarship, and without a Statute. There is a Library without Books, comparatively speaking, and a President without a fix’d Salary till of Late. . . . These things greatly impede the Progress of Sciences and learned Arts, and discourage those that may be inclined to contribute their Assistance or Bounty towards the Good of the College.^[14]

In his more detailed treatment of the library and what ought to be done to improve its condition, Jones admitted it “is better furnished of late than formerly by the kind Gifts of several Gentlemen.”^[15] Unfortunately, he neglected mentioning the names of the benefactors and did not describe their donations. In assessing the library collections, Jones also observed that “the number of Books is but very small, and the Sets upon each Branch of Learning are very imperfect, and not the best of the Sort.” In order to remedy the defect, he recommended steps recalling the earlier efforts made by Blair to solicit books from “the severall good authors in England.” Jones suggested that application be made to the societies and superior clergy in England, “who would give at least what Duplicates they have upon such an useful Occasion.”

The sets and collections that could not be obtained through gifts should be purchased, Jones stipulated, as soon as the college might find funds for restocking the library. These funds, he believed, would be forthcoming from “the Clergy, Burgesses, and Gentry of the Country, if upon easy Terms they were allowed the Use of the Library at certain Hours, at such Times as they shall be at Williamsburgh, either for Pleasure or upon Business.”^[16] This enlightened proposal came firmly to grips with the need for modifying traditional concepts of college library functions to the requirements of colonial life. The college library needed financial support, Jones reasoned, and the colonial population needed a public library, so why not satisfy the former by meeting the needs of the latter?

Jones’s proposal to open the library to a select constituency of the public is surprising in view of his conservative thoughts respecting collegiate use of the book collection. His recommendations on this score merely reaffirmed a traditional policy of restricting the library facilities to the masters and graduate students:

Such scholars, Commoners, and Servitors, as have behaved themselves well, and minded their Studies for three Years, and can pass proper Examination, and have performed certain Exercises, should have the Degree of a Batchellor of Arts conferred upon them . . . being allowed the Use of the Library as well as the Masters, paying proper Fees upon their Admission for the Good of the Library.^[17]

The undergraduate, in other words, did not figure in Jones’s scheme for improving the library program. His recommendation for the assessment of library fees supplied a glimpse of things to come, but was not adopted until events fifty years later necessitated that course. Indeed, despite their forceful appeal, no evidence remains to indicate that any of Jones’s recommendations got beyond the pages of his book.

Jones’s complaints may have influenced the allocation of a bequest of £150 left to the college around 1720 by Colonel Edward Hill of Shirley. The board of visitors, prior to 1729, decided that the full amount would be applied “towards the better furnishing of the Library of the said College with Books.”^[18] Hill was thereby cast in the role of one of the foremost colonial benefactors of the library. The sum was considerable, but just how it was spent is not reported in the surviving records.

The college in 1727 attained full academic status. All of its chairs were filled with qualified men of learning, and students for the first time were enabled to pursue the full course of instruction envisioned by its founders.^[19] On the advice of Chancellor William Wake, archbishop of Canterbury, a set of rules was drawn up for its good government. One of these statutes provided that the library keeper was to be nominated and elected by the president and masters. Perhaps this merely confirmed a longstanding practice. Hugh Jones said that John Harris held the post in 1724.^[20] And Harris is the first library keeper whose name is definitely known. His predecessors and his successors down to the middle of the eighteenth century were in all probability, like himself, ushers in the grammar school.

Another clause in the same statutes has denied posterity a glimpse of the detailed regulations under which the library operated:

Because the Circumstances of the College in this its Infancy, will not as yet admit many Officers . . . Therefore referring the Rules concerning the . . . Library-Keeper . . . and other Officers to the President and Masters, who are to direct their Offices and Salaries, as the College shall find them useful and necessary; we shall only at present lay down some Rules concerning the Bursar or College Treasurer.^[21]

In 1729 the surviving original trustees of the college, fallowing a schedule established by the 1693 charter, transferred its government and property—”also all the Books to the said College belonging”—to the president and masters.^[22] This step, taken on February 27, formally marked the maturity of the foundation. The transfer instrument referred to the fact that the main building “hath in it a convenient Chamber set apart for a Library, besides all other Officers necessary for the said college.” An able faculty, recruited from English universities, was nevertheless hampered by the inadequacies of the book collection. In consequence, when the ambitious building program approached completion in 1732, an aggressive campaign was launched to improve the library.

President Blair, whose efforts to develop the book collection had commenced with the founding of the college, led off with a forceful communication to Chancellor Edmund Gibson, bishop of London, explaining:

We are in hopes too, of other bounties towards our library, and perhaps from his Majesty in honor of King William and Queen Mary whose names we bear. My Lord Archbishop of Canterbury did a few years ago signify to us his intentions of a donation towards our Library which we doubt not he will now promote.^[23]

William Dawson, a Queens College master of arts who had become professor of moral philosophy at William and Mary in 1729, advanced a more ingenious scheme for securing financial aid.

Dawson, in a letter to Chancellor Gibson dated August 11, 1729, described the recent dedication of the college chapel, the president’s house that was being constructed, and the Brafferton building that had been erected for the Indian school in 1723. Following these polite preliminaries, he proceeded to the matter of the library:

In short, my Lord, the whole is only not compleat for want of the most useful and ornamental Furniture, Books. Mr. [John] Randolph, who is intrusted with the negotiations of some public Affairs at Home, will wait on your Lordship and propose a method to supply this Defect in some measure. Now, my Lord, if our humble proposal to lay out part of the Brafferton money which is in Mr. Perry’s hands, to this purpose, meets with approbation and encouragement from your Lordship, we have a very convenient room for a Library over the Indian School. My Lord Burlington, I am informed, has promised to present us with the Hon. Mr. Boyle’s Picture, which we intend to hang up in the aforesaid Library. His Philosophical and Theological works, together with those which were written by his encouragement, may be thought no improper part of this Collection. The Books published by our Rt. Rev. Lord and Chancellor would do honour and service to the College. A compleat set of the Classicks is very much wanted.^[24]

The Brafferton monies eyed by Dawson were held in trust for the education of Indian youths.^[25] The college authorities were therefore obliged to act cautiously in formulating plans for the diversion of those funds to other ends. Richard Boyle, the architect earl of Burlington, justified Dawson’s expectations by donating to the college a portrait of Robert Boyle that, miraculously enough, is still hanging in the main building. But no records h ave survived to show whether Burlington presented books to the library or not.

John Randolph, later knighted for his services to the colony, proceeded on his mission to England, armed with detailed instructions drafted by the president and masters. Randolph was enjoined to remind the chancellor that the college officials were “good husbands” of the Brafferton revenues and that even though a handsome building had been erected for the Indian school, and all the necessary charges defrayed, a balance of some £500 sterling remained in the Brafferton account.^[26] Randolph, following these preliminaries, was to stress that “as we do not live in an age of miracles, it is not to be doubted that Indian scholars will want the help of many books to qualify them to become good pastours and teachers.” Why not, in other words, lay out part of the £ 500-Brafferton-fund balance “in a well-chosen library”?

Anticipating the charge that this was merely a subterfuge to enrich the main library, Randolph was instructed to argue that “our funds are so poor, and theirs [that is, the Indians] so rich, that they can better supply us than we them.” The college, the memorial continued, provided the Indian school with instructors in “Larine, Greek, and Hebrew, and Philosophy, Mathematics, and Divmity.” It was only fair, the president and masters concluded, that “they should in turn help themselves and us to a few necessary books for those studies.” To clinch the argument, the president and masters promised that whatever books might be secured by this means would be “reposited in distinct presses marked with the name of Boyle or Brafferton,” and that each book would carry an appropriate inscription on its cover. It was further promised that the collection would be housed in the Brafferton building. With the parting shot that “books we think as necessary a means and instrument of their [that is, the Indians’] education, as they paying for their victuals and cloaths,” the whole design was left to the discretion of Chancellor Gibson and Lord Burlington, managers of the Boyle bequest.

Randolph was furnished with two catalogues, one listing the books already in the library and the other listing those books that “an ancient minister”—meaning, of course, Rev. James Blair—”designs shortly to leave to it.” The authorities thus took suitable precautions to prevent a needless duplication of printed resources in the event Randolph were to succeed in getting his hands on the Brafferton funds. Randolph was directed to take the advice of Chancellor Gibson “concerning the properest books for our use, and their best editions.” These maneuvers were successful, producing a letter of credit to Micajah Perry, custodian of the Brafferton funds, authorizing Randolph to draw a sum “not exceeding two hundred and fif ty or three hundred pound” for purchasing books.^[27]

Randolph was entrusted with other commissions. Supplementary instructions directed him to wait on the archbishop of Canterbury, who “was pleased particularly to signify his good intentions of giving or loaning something towards our Library,” and to coordinate his book selecting so as not to duplicate any books that his Grace might give. Randolph was also given carte blanche to treat with any charitable individual who might be interested in the library, “that being at present our chief want.”^[28]

A regular source of income for the library was tapped when the president and masters petitioned the Virginia General Assembly for financial support. The assembly complied in 1734 by passing “an Act for the Better Support and Encouragement of the College of William and Mary in Virginia.” The measure renewed an earlier levy of a duty of one penny on every gallon of rum, brandy, other distilled spirits, and wine imported into the colony and appropriated the sizable sum of £200 per annum therefrom for the use of the college, provided

part thereof shall be laid out and applied for buying such books, for the use of the Scholars and students in the college, as the . . . visitors and governors, or the greater part of them, shall think most necessary; and such books, so to be bought, shall be marked thus, The Gift of the General Assembly of Virginia in the year 1734, and shall for ever be preserved and kept in the public library of the said college.^[29]

The act was periodically renewed throughout the remaining life of the colonial government.^[30] Only one volume purchased with the income from this alcoholic source, a copy of Pitt’s translation of The Aeneid of Virgil, escaped destruction in the fire of 1859. It still bears on its inner front cover the printed label required by the colonial legislature: The Gift of the General Assembly of Virginia, in the year 1734.

Archbishop Wake, of whom much was expected, passed to his reward in 1737. The good man did not forget the anxious Virginians, for his will provided a legacy of fifty pounds for “William & Mary College in Virginia to buy books.”^[31] President Blair, in whose care the fund was entrusted, turned to Chancellor Gibson for advice as to its proper application. Both agreed “to let the Classicks alone at this time” and to spend the money on “more useful books of Divinity.”^[32] Gibson himself undertook to make the selections. It cannot be determined what was purchased, but the bishop’s choices naturally met with Blair’s approval. On May 12, 1739, Gibson was notified that “we have received the late Archbishops donation of Books, and desire to return our most hearty thanks to your Lo^P for so good a Choice.”^[33]

Death brought other bequests to the library. Rev. Emanuel Jones, rector of Petsworth parish in Gloucester County, died in 1739, leaving some, if not all, of his books to the college.^[34] Only one volume, Arrian’s Enchiridion, a handbook of Stoic advice by the Greek philosopher Epictetus that Jones had acquired in 1687 while studying at Oriel College, Oxford, somehow or other escaped destruction in the fires of 1859 and 1862. Governor Spotswood, who, despite frequent altercations with the irascible James Blair, cherished friendly feelings for the college, died in 1740, leaving to the library all his “Books, maps and mathematical instruments.”^[35] Again, only one volume has survived as evidence of the bequest. But this volume must have struck an unusual note in the mighty chorus of theological and philosophical works that lined the library shelves. It is Spotswood’s copy of Piganiol de La Force’s Description des chateaux et pares de Versailles, de Trianon, et de Marly.

And death in 1743 finally called “the ancient minister” whose firm hand had guided the college and its library for a full half-century. But in death as in life, Blair sought to improve the library. His entire personal collection of books, together with £500 in cash, was left to the college.^[36] William Dawson a decade earlier had claimed that Blair did not own “many Good Editions of the Fathers.”^[37] If patristical literature was wanting, Blair’s acquaintance and friendship with scholars in England would certainly have brought to his shelves significant materials on contemporary theological thought. The great monument of sixteenth-century learning, the Antwerp polyglot, described by Blair as “my Arius Montanus’ Bible,” would have lent distinction to any collection.^[38] The catalogue of Blair’s library that Sir John Randolph carried to England in 1732 has been lost. And a perusal of Blair’s surviving correspondence fails to bring to light supplementary data covering titles in his collection. A nineteenth-century Virginia collector somehow or other acquired a copy of Bryan Robinson’s Treatise of the animal oeconomy stamped in red with the name of “Doctor James Blair.”^[39] But all other evidences of the “ancient minister’s” legacy to the library were apparently consumed in the fires of 1859 and 1862.