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The Spanish Albatross

The Albatross editions in Portuguese that I wrote about in my last post, were far from being the business’s only experiment in foreign language translations of English novels.  Perhaps not surprisingly they also tried Spanish, publishing about ten translations between about 1947 and 1950.

Spanish Albatross 8 Polonesa

The Spanish books looked completely different, although the design is clearly a development of the classic Albatross design.  The same colour coding is used, but the writing around the border becomes much larger and rather dominates the central section.  It produces a design that is quite striking, but to me seems to lose the simple elegance of the original.  The books are also larger than the standard Albatross size, again losing in elegance what they may gain in impact.

They were published by Ediciones Albatros, a Spanish company based in Madrid and presumably set up for the purpose.  Unlike most of the other post-war ventures by Albatross, there is no evidence in the books of this being a joint operation with a local partner, although it may have been.

Spanish Albatross 1 Diplomaticos en Pekin

The series started with ‘Diplomaticos en Pekin’, a translation of ‘Peking picnic’ by Ann Bridge, a book that had not previously been published in English by either Albatross or Tauchnitz.  It was followed by translations of ‘Highly inflammable’ by Max Saltmarsh, which had been published as Tauchnitz volume 5242 in 1936 and ‘Soldiers from the war returning’ by Jerrard Tickell, which had appeared as Albatross 552 in 1946.  Six of the seven other books I know about had previously been published by either Tauchnitz or Albatross.

Spanish Albatross Spines 2

The books are numbered from 1 to 13 but I have never seen books numbered 4, 7 or 12 so I only know of ten titles.  Although the series lasted only for a couple of years and I doubt that any new titles were published after 1950, it appears that some of the books were reprinted later under different covers – showing even less respect to the traditional Albatross design.

Polonesa

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Dating Tauchnitz paperbacks

Bound copies of the Tauchnitz Edition are very difficult to date.  Most of the key dating information is on the original wrappers that have usually been discarded by the bookbinder.  But what if the wrappers are still present?  Surely then it’s easy to date them, and to identify first printings?

In most cases, it is – the date, both month and year, is shown at the top of the back wrapper.  But not always, and even when it is, there can still be complications.  Firstly the early editions were undated and by early, I mean for the first 30 years of the series, roughly from 1842 to 1872.  Copies from this period in their original wrappers do still turn up from time to time, and although all are 150 years or so old and certainly rare, they’re still often a long way from first printings.

Tauchnitz 80 rear wrapper

Some of the earliest paperbacks are best dated by comparing the other titles listed on the back.  This one is from 1846.

Todd and Bowden in their Tauchnitz bibliography, introduced a system for classifying and dating these early editions, which relies in large part on the dictionary adverts on the back wrapper.  In a reversal of their practice with novels, Tauchnitz always recorded the printing date and the edition number for their dictionaries.  So if the wrapper advertises the 16th edition of the English-German dictionary, it comes from 1865 /66, if it advertises the 20th edition, it’s from 1869/70, and so on.

Tauchnitz 464 rear wrapper

This paperback is one of the first to advertise Tauchnitz Dictionaries on the back.  Reference to the Eleventh Stereotype Edition dates it to 1859-1860

This method is fairly reliable, but it’s not the full story.  When a book was rapidly reprinted, it can exist in two different wrappers, both advertising the same edition of the dictionary.  Then the only way of identifying the first printing is the laborious process of checking through the list of other titles to make sure that the wrapper doesn’t include any later-published titles.

From June 1872 until December 1934, the process gets much easier, as the back wrappers are dated.  If the wrapper date is later than the year shown on the title page, it must be a reprint.  If it’s in the same year, then it comes down to checking the month against the bibliography.   For much of this period though, there’s a simpler way, because Tauchnitz adopted a different style of wrapper for first printings and reprints.

The new style for first printings appears around volume 2990 in 1894.  The front wrapper is still identical, but the list on the back switches to a much larger typeface for the titles, with a very short description underneath – often just ‘A new novel’.   Instead of being just on the back wrapper, this list, on first printings only, stretches over the inside wrappers as well.   In fact the distinction that first printing wrappers have a list extending over the inside and back wrappers, whereas reprints have the list only on the back wrapper, seems to predate the change to the new format by  a year or so.  The first example I’ve seen of this is dated May 1893.

Tauchnitz 2990 New format Continued from page 3

An early example of the 1st printing format – June 1894

The picture below shows a comparison between the style of wrapper used for first printings and the style for reprints, that continued from 1894 through to 1903.   Throughout this period a quick glance at the style of the back wrapper can identify first printings much quicker than a comparison of dates or volume numbers.

Tauchnitz 3220 rear covers July 1897 1st printing and reprint

1st printing style on left, reprint on right

Then at the beginning of 1904 a new two-column style was introduced for first printings, now with a slightly longer description of each book, still extending over the inner wrappers as well.   The comparison below of first printing and reprint formats shows them still easily distinguishable.   In some cases, as below, where books were reprinted very quickly after first printing, both first printing and reprint exist with the same month at the top of the back wrapper.  Then only the difference in format can distinguish which is the true first.

Tauchnitz 4578 rear covers June 1922 1st printing and reprint

‘Back to Methuselah’ by George Bernard Shaw (volume 4522).  1st printing and reprint both from June 1922

So far as I know, this rule for identifying first printings is almost always respected.  There is one known example on volume 4700 where the first printing in the correct format is dated September 1925, but copies also exist in reprint format dated August 1925.  Todd & Bowden still give first printing status to the copies dated September 1925, partly on the basis of the bound-in catalogues.  I’m inclined to agree and to think that one or other is mis-dated, but there must be some doubt about this.  Other than that, the rule seems to be a cast iron guide.

This second first printing format continued from about January 1904 (volume 3705) through to December 1934 (volume 5178).  By this point Albatross had taken over editorial control of the series and was starting to apply the more modern design principles of its own series.  Adverts on the back cover had no place in this, and after a brief period of totally plain back covers, Tauchnitz adopted a completely new cover design and the Albatross system of colour-coding by genre.  Dates as well as advertising for other titles moved to inside pages.  In many cases a printing date and sometimes even an indication that a book is a second printing can be found on the back of the title page.  It was only five years though before the Second World War effectively ended the series and so relatively few volumes from this period were reprinted anyway.

Victorian women novelists – racier than you might think

It’s a persuasive and persistent myth that in Victorian times it was difficult for women to get novels published.  It doesn’t help that some of the best known women novelists of the period, notably George Eliot and the Brontë sisters, used pseudonyms that were male, or at least in the case of the Brontës, gender neutral.  From there it’s a small jump to conclude that it was only by pretending to be male that they could get published.

NPG 1405; George Eliot (Mary Ann Cross (nÈe Evans)) replica by FranÁois D'Albert Durade

George Eliot from a portrait in the National Portrait Gallery

Nothing could be further from the truth, at least in the mid-Victorian period.   I use as evidence the Tauchnitz Collection of British Authors, which is as near as you can get to a representative coverage of English Literature at the time.   For the 25 year period from roughly 1864 to 1889 the collection included more volumes by female authors than male authors.   In the early Victorian period, it’s true that female authors were much less common (and undoubtedly subject to some prejudice as well), and after 1890 the balance also swung back some way towards the men.  But overall the evidence is clear – there were large numbers of Victorian women novelists – and they did get published.

But there’s another myth that needs puncturing – the myth of Victorian Values.  It’s easy to think that Victorian women novelists were a straight-laced bunch, upholding in their lives as well as their writing, a strict moral code, that certainly involved no sex outside marriage.   In practice many women writers were writing ‘sensation novels’, in which it seemed almost every character had a guilty secret.   The dramatic tension came from the contrast between the values that society seemed to expect and the rather messier lives led under the surface.

Maguerite,_Countess_of_Blessington

The Countess of Blessington, from a portrait by Thomas Lawrence

And the authors certainly had messy lives themselves. I’ve written before about the Countess of Blessington, the first female author to be published by Tauchnitz in 1843.  She was in an abusive marriage, then lived as the mistress of the Earl of Blessington, before eventually marrying him.   It was later strongly rumoured that she was in a relationship with the Count d’Orsay, who married her step-daughter.

Caroline_Norton_by_Frank_Stone

Caroline Norton from a portrait by Frank Stone in the National Portrait Gallery

Or take Caroline Norton, another of the early Tauchnitz authors (and the daughter of another women novelist).  She had left her husband in 1836 and was involved in a close friendship with the Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne.  After attempting unsuccessfully to blackmail Melbourne, Caroline’s husband sued the Prime Minister for ‘criminal conversation’ with his wife.  This was rejected by the court, but the scandal nearly brought down the Government.  Caroline is then said to have had a five year affair with a Conservative politician, Sidney Herbert.  She was, perhaps pointedly, referred to on the title pages of her Tauchnitz novels, as The Honourable Caroline Norton.

NPG x21214; Florence Marryat by Unknown photographer

From the National Portrait Gallery

Florence Marryat, one of the most prolific Victorian authors, also left her husband to live with another man.  Her husband eventually sued for divorce, citing his wife’s adultery, and Florence re-married.  Mary Elizabeth Braddon, even more prolific with over 100 volumes to her name in the Tauchnitz series, lived for many years with John Maxwell who was already married to someone else.  And of course George Eliot famously lived with another married man (and another Tauchnitz author), George Henry Lewes.

Elizabeth von Arnim

Elizabeth von Arnim

One of the more prominent women authors towards the end of the Victorian era, Elizabeth von Arnim, writing as Countess Russell, was for several years the mistress of H.G. Wells.  And it wasn’t just the British.  Léonie d’Aunet, possibly the only French woman author whose work appeared in the Tauchnitz series (her work ‘Un mariage en province’ was translated / adapted by Lady Georgiana Fullerton), had a seven year affair with Victor Hugo, for which she was arrested and spent time in prison and in a convent.

Tauchnitz 1769 Leonie D'Aunet

Portrait of Léonie d’Aunet by her husband François-Auguste Biard

There are no doubt many other examples.  I don’t of course want to imply that the men were any better.  Amongst others, Dickens left his wife for an 18 year old actress and the unmarried Wilkie Collins seems to have split his affections between two women simultaneously.   My point is just that Victorian women writers were not only numerous, but racier than you might think.  Victorian Values were just another myth.

More Christmas Carols in Tauchnitz

I’ve looked in earlier posts at the first publication of ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Tauchnitz in December 1843 (possibly the first printing worldwide of the book), and also at the Schools Edition of the story that followed in 1847.  Both editions are scarce today in first printing or even in early printings, although the book continued to sell for so long that later printings are not too difficult to find.

The individual issue of ‘A Christmas Carol’ remained in print with Tauchnitz for many decades, but it was also combined with the next two Christmas stories by Dickens, ‘The chimes’ and ‘The cricket on the hearth’, to form volume 91 of the Tauchnitz main series in 1846.  That volume too remained in print right up until the Second World War.

Tauchnitz 91 title page

As the Schools Edition was also sold over a long period, Tauchnitz had three different editions of ‘A Christmas Carol’ for sale simultaneously.  The Schools Edition was probably sold right through until the 1880s, when Tauchnitz expanded the concept into the ‘Students Series’.  Not surprisingly ‘A Christmas Carol’ appeared again in this series, as volume 25 in 1888 and remained in print in this format at least through until the First World War in 1914.

Tauchnitz Students Series 25

During the war, the firm was unable to publish much new material, but instead raided its back catalogue for shorter works or excerpts that could be published in a new series of slim paperbacks.  The series started life as ‘English Text-books’ and was later renamed as the ‘Tauchnitz Pocket Library’.  And sure enough, there was ‘A Christmas Carol’ again, as volume 45 in the series.

Tauchnitz Pocket Library 45

I have no idea how many copies of the story Tauchnitz sold in total between 1843 and 1943, but it must have been an enormous number by the standards of the company.  A more normal Tauchnitz novel might only have sold 2,000 copies, but it seems possible that sales of ‘A Christmas Carol’ could have been a hundred times that figure, or more.

It’s worth remembering that Tauchnitz did not pay royalties.  He typically paid a fixed lump sum for the continental rights to a novel, a practice he followed right from the start, when there was no international copyright agreement.  As there was no obligation on him to pay anything at that time, his offer of a lump sum payment was gratefully received, and he was able to define the terms of business for the future.

The gesture certainly bought him a lot of goodwill with Dickens, who forever after regarded him as a friend and as a trustworthy business partner.  It also gave Tauchnitz privileged early access to new work by Dickens, so that his editions were sometimes published ahead of the UK editions.  And the terms of the deals were determined by Tauchnitz, not only in terms of the price paid, which Dickens always allowed him to propose, but also in terms of the structure.

Letters from Dickens quoted in 1912 Anniversary history 2

A lump sum payment left Tauchnitz open to the risk of lower than expected sales, but with Dickens that was hardly a risk at all.  If on the other hand, sales were higher, Tauchnitz would make additional payments, at his discretion.   In this way he was able to extend his reputation for fair dealing and for generosity, while still managing his costs and his profits.

In the case of ‘A Christmas Carol’, he could certainly afford to be generous.  He had a very valuable property on his hands, particularly after copyright treaties restricted the issue by any other European publishers.  So he made the most of it.  There’s no record, so far as I know, of what Tauchnitz paid for the initial right to publish ‘A Christmas Carol’, or what later payments he may have made, but for a full length work by Dickens some  20 years later, he offered £35.   On that basis, the initial payment for ‘A Christmas Carol’ could possibly have been £20 or less.  If so, it must surely have been one of the best bits of business ever done.   I feel sure that Tauchnitz would have made regular additional payments to reflect its success, at least over the rest of Dickens’ lifetime.   Whether he continued to be as generous to Dickens’ estate after his death may be a little more doubtful.

Todd & Bowden

The phrase ‘Todd & Bowden’ means only one thing for me.  It’s a large red 1000+ page book that is practically the Bible of my book-collecting – the bibliography of Tauchnitz Editions.    For other people, the same phrase may refer to another 1000+ page tome, the bibliography of Walter Scott editions.   Underlying these two monumental works though, there are the two authors, William Todd and Ann Bowden, a husband and wife team of bibliographers, who spent years of their lives producing these two works.

Bibliography Todd & Bowden

The Todd & Bowden bibliography of Tauchnitz Editions

They had the good fortune to work at the University of Texas at Austin, which through the huge collections held at its Harry Ransom Centre and the associated literary research, has become perhaps one of the best places in the world for a bibliographer to work.  It was partly they who made it so, William Todd having been recruited by Ransom to work at Austin before there was such a thing as the Harry Ransom Centre.

William Todd Ann Bowden

Ann Bowden and William Todd

Todd had made his name through a series of pioneering works, including the standard reference work on Edmund Burke, as well as studies of the Nixon tapes and Mao Tse Tung’s Little Red Book.  He was already almost 60 years old and a well-respected professor and bibliographer, when he and Ann started to collect and study Tauchnitz Editions.  It was the beginning of a 10 year project that led to the Todd & Bowden bibliography, published in 1988.

William B. Todd

The two of them travelled around Europe and America to inspect all the major Tauchnitz collections that they were able to identify.  They recorded in detail 25 collections in Europe, many in National Libraries, and a further 21 in North America, mostly in universities.  In doing so, they were able for the first time to create a guide to distinguish different printings and editions and to start to date them.  Tauchnitz were notorious for leaving the first publication date on the title page of editions published many years later, leading to widespread confusion over dating.  Unfortunately for many of the libraries they visited, Todd & Bowden’s work had the effect of identifying their copies as reprints.

Todd & Bowden title page

At the same time they were building their own collection, which eventually grew to over 6000 volumes, covering both bound editions and paperbacks, first printings and reprints.  After publication of the bibliography, their collection was acquired by a German cultural foundation and presented to the British Library, which had previously held only a relatively small collection.  Todd & Bowden moved on to work on the equally comprehensive Walter Scott bibliography, published in 1998, by which time they were both well into their seventies, and Todd nearly 80.

Ann Bowden died in 2001 and William Todd in 2011, at the age of 92.  The two major bibliographies they worked on together serve as a monument to them.  They also inspired, through their teaching and their example, generations of other bibliographers.  And for me too their work has been an inspiration.  I might still have been interested in Tauchnitz Editions, but without their bibliography, I would never have embarked on the project to build a collection that has occupied me for the last 25 years and more.  And the collection itself is defined both in terms of scope and in terms of first printing status, by the parameters established in ‘Todd & Bowden’.

It’s a wrap

I have no idea when the first wrap-around bands for books were introduced.  But I do know that Tauchnitz were already using them by 1926, so their history is certainly a long one.  They typically feature a short blurb about the book or a quote from a review, and are presumably intended to make the book stand out in the shop display.  Just another marketing tool, but as they’re still used today, I suppose they must be reasonably effective.

Wrap-around band 4743

Band for ‘The secret that was kept’ by Elizabeth Robins

The earliest band I’ve seen on a Tauchnitz book is from August 1926.  It exists for volume 4743, ‘The secret that was kept’ by Elizabeth Robins, and it’s in full wrap-around style, glued together at the back.  The book can only be opened by either slipping the band up and over the top of the book or by tearing it.  Presumably most people tore it off and discarded it.  Even those readers who carefully removed it without tearing, would hardly be tempted to put it back on later, so again would end up throwing it away.  It’s surprising really that any of them have survived.

Wrap-around band 4889

July 1929 band, now with title and author on the spine panel

But one careful owner of a selection of books I bought a few years ago, slipped the bands in between the pages of the books, perhaps using them as bookmarks, and preserved them.  Some are torn, others intact, but overall they’re in surprisingly good condition.  I have eight of them, for books published between August 1926 and July 1929.  The Todd & Bowden bibliography of Tauchnitz Editions records one other known band in this style, so nine in total are known, but it’s possible that they existed for all 150 or so books published over this period.  An alternative is that they were only used to boost sales on slower-selling volumes, but in this case it seems unlikely that they would have been so clearly dated.  All the bands in this style are in white, and wrapped around an off white paperback would not have stood out particularly well.

So it was a natural next step to introduce coloured bands, which happened from around February 1930.  With this change came also a change in format, so that the band was tucked in under the front and back covers, rather than glued at the back.  Crucially this change meant that the book could be opened without removing the band.  This allowed prospective buyers to open and look at the book in the shop, without taking the band off.  If they were careful enough, they might even be able to leave it on while reading the book.  Of course most were still removed and discarded, but more of these later bands survive.  They’re mostly on books that were never read, which is the fate of many copies.  Few buyers are so uninterested in a book that they will not even want to pick it up and flick through it, which involves taking off a full wrap-around band, but many buyers never get round to reading their book, so a tucked-in band has a better chance of survival.

Tauchnitz 4976 with wraparound band 2

Volume 4976 by Siegfried Sasssoon with wrap-around band – February 1931

The colours of the bands were not random.  They were coded to indicate the genre of the book – red for crime and humour, blue for ‘serious’ books, yellow for novels and short stories of adventure, social life or historical novels, and green for love stories.  The colour-coding seems to have been the brainchild of Max Christian Wegner, then Managing Director of Tauchnitz.  Two years later, by then in charge of the rival Albatross Books, he developed the idea further, using the entire paperback cover for colour coding by genre, a practice also taken up by Penguin when it launched in 1935.

At Tauchnitz the colour-coded bands continued for over four years, through to mid 1934, at which point the firm more or less collapsed into the arms of Albatross.  I’m aware of surviving bands for around 20 volumes, but again they may have been used on all the more than 200 volumes published over that period.   The bands did their bit to brighten up the rather drab Tauchnitz books, but they were still unable to compete against the more colourful Albatross volumes.

Wrap-around band 5148

Band for ‘Gretchen discovers America’ by Helene Scheu-Riesz – May 1934

After mid 1934 the two series were managed jointly by the Albatross management team and Tauchnitz fell into line with the Albatross practice of colour-coded covers with dustwrappers, but no wrap-around bands.

But it wasn’t quite the end of the story.  After the end of the war, a number of attempts were made to revive both Tauchnitz and Albatross, one of which involved a short series of 40 volumes published from Stuttgart under the Tauchnitz brand from 1952 to 1955.  Dustwrappers on paperbacks had by then gone rather out of fashion and wrap-around bands were again used.  As ever, it’s impossible to verify that all volumes were issued with bands, but many of them may have been, with again only a small number surviving.

Wrap-around band S125 post-war

Band for ‘The exploration of space’ by Arthur C. Clarke – 1953

Lucy Clifford in Tauchnitz Editions

As a writer, Lucy Clifford is probably best remembered today for ‘Mrs Keith’s crime’, her 1885 novel about a mother, dying of consumption, who decides to kill her also dying daughter.  In personal terms she is remembered as the wife of the mathematician and philosopher, William Kingdon Clifford.  William died early at the age of 33, but was already a professor at University College, London, a Fellow of the Royal Society, and had done ground-breaking work in algebra, geometry and philosophy.  There is a type of algebra, still referred to as a Clifford algebra today, in his honour.

Lucy-Lane-Clifford

Lucy Clifford from the National Portrait Gallery collection NPG x41412

The two lives of William and Lucy are remembered in a book by Monty Chisholm and an associated website.  They were married for only four years, between 1875 and his death in 1879, but Lucy chose to publish her novels under the name of Mrs. W.K. Clifford.  She may well have been writing before his death, but I can’t find any published work before then.  When she was left widowed with two small children, financial pressures may then have pushed her to publication, perhaps encouraged by her many literary connections, which certainly included George Eliot, Mary Braddon and Henry James.

A collection of stories for children, ‘Anyhow stories, moral and otherwise’ was published in the UK in 1882, followed by ‘Mrs Keith’s Crime’ in 1885.   But perhaps surprisingly, she didn’t achieve publication in the Tauchnitz Edition (or as far as I can tell any of its competitors in continental publishing), until 1892.  This was a particularly productive time in Mrs. Clifford’s writing career and Tauchnitz backed her strongly, publishing five of her books in an eighteen month period.  This may also though have had something to do with the pressure that Tauchnitz was under at the time from the rival ‘English Library’ published by Heinemann and Balestier.  A significant number of authors were defecting to the new series and Tauchnitz was keen to maintain a large publishing programme, forcing it to search out and back new talent.

Tauchnitz 2803 Love Letters

The first to appear was an epistolatory novel, ‘Love letters of a worldly woman’, published as volume 2803 in the Tauchnitz series in February 1892.  The first printing in Tauchnitz has a quotation on the back of the half-title page, with the back of the title page blank.  Later reprints list 6 other Clifford titles on the half-title verso and move the quotation to the back of the title page.  I have nicely bound copies of this book and two other later books, with the signature of the author’s daughter, Margaret Clifford.  As they are all first printings and Margaret would have been a teenager when they were published, they may well have been first acquired by her mother.

Tauchnitz 2803 Love Letters signature

Lucy Clifford gilt edges

Gleaming gilt page edges on the volumes signed by Margaret Clifford (above)

It was followed by ‘Aunt Anne’, published in two volumes as volumes 2857 and 2858 of the Tauchnitz Collection of British Authors in September 1892 and by ‘The last touches and other stories’, published in January 1893 as volume 2880.  ‘Mrs Keith’s Crime’ appeared as volume 2913 in June 1893 and ‘A wild proxy’ as volume 2930 in August 1893.  First printings in paperback should show the appropriate date quoted above at the top of the back wrapper, and bound copies should list only previously published titles on the back of the half-title.  So ‘Aunt Anne’ should list only ‘Love letters …’, whereas ‘The last touches’ should list both ‘Love letters’ and ‘Aunt Anne’, and so on.  In practice though, of these books, only ‘Mrs. Keith’s Crime’ is recorded as existing with a greater number of titles listed.

Tauchnitz 2913 Mrs Keith's Crime

In first printing, ‘Mrs. Keith’s Crime’ lists only the three previously published titles

After this rush of titles (and with Heinemann and Balestier largely defeated as a serious rival), there seems to have been a pause, not just in Lucy Clifford’s appearances in the Tauchnitz series, but in her writing more generally.   ‘A flash of summer’ was published in November 1896 as volume 3168 (listing five previously published works on the back of the half-title) and then nothing more until September 1901, with the publication of ‘A woman alone’ as volume 3525 (listing 6 other works).  Both volumes were later reprinted.  ‘Woodside Farm’ followed in June 1902 as volume 3584, ‘The modern way’ in February 1907 as volume 3945, ‘The getting well of Dorothy’ in May 1907 as volume 3967 and ‘Mere stories’, another collection of short stories, in October 1909 as volume 4146.

Tauchnitz 4146 Mere Stories

‘Mere Stories’ in the original wrappers, dated October 1909

That brings us up to the First World War and another pause, certainly in the output of Tauchnitz volumes from 1914 onwards, but again as far as I can tell, in Lucy Clifford’s writing as well.  By the time Tauchnitz was back up and running again after the war, it was in a very different political, social and literary landscape.  ‘Eve’s Lover and other stories’ appeared in June 1924 as volume 4644, by which time its author was nearly 80 and from a different world to D.H. Lawrence, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf.

But Tauchnitz was slow to recognise the changing literary fashions, and still willing to publish two further works – ‘Sir George’s objection’ in April 1925 as volume 4680, and ”Miss Fingal’ in July 1928 as volume 4840.  As with all  Tauchnitz Editions, these 20th Century volumes are more commonly found in the original paperback form, rather than the bound editions from the 19th Century.

Tauchnitz 4840 Miss Fingal 2

First printing of ‘Miss Fingal’, dated July 1928

Lucy Clifford died in 1929, some 50 years after her husband, leaving behind a substantial body of work.  The success of most 19th Century and early 20th Century writers can almost be measured by the volume of their output in Tauchnitz Editions, and on that measure Mrs. W.K. Clifford did pretty well.  Fifteen volumes of her work were published over a period of more than 35 years, and no doubt tens of thousands of copies sold in Continental Europe.  Most of them though are not easy to find today.

Lucy Clifford in Tauchnitz

Fourteen of the fifteen volumes, with ‘Eve’s Lover’ missing

Shakespeare plays in Tauchnitz – the 1868 edition

I looked in an earlier post at the first 1843 edition of Shakespeare plays in the Tauchnitz Edition.   Although sold in large quantities over a period of 25 years, the publication was rather discredited by being based on the text of John Payne Collier, a noted Shakespeare scholar, but one who was later shown to be a forger.  Collier’s name was dropped from the title page in later printings, and the decision was eventually taken to re-issue all the plays in an alternative text edited by the Rev. Alexander Dyce.

Tauchnitz Shakespeare 1868 frontispiece vol. 40

Frontispiece to the first volume of the 1868 Edition

In correspondence with Tauchnitz, Dyce was insistent that ‘no alterations are to be introduced, which are not authorised by, Dear Sir, your very truly, Alexander Dyce’.  Perhaps not surprising in the circumstances.  He also noted that ‘I should prefer my name to appear on the title-page of the proposed Shakespeare’.

Dyce had been a friend of Collier’s, but had turned against him, notably with his publication of ‘Strictures on Collier’s new Edition of Shakespeare’ in 1859.  His own edition of the plays had first been published in 1857, with a Second Edition in 1866 and this was to be the basis of the new Tauchnitz Edition of 1868.   In his preface to the Tauchnitz Edition Dyce refers to his First Edition having ‘too timidly adhered to sundry more than questionable readings of the early copies’, which may well be a reference to Collier’s influence.

Tauchnitz Shakespeare 1868 preface vol. 40

The Tauchnitz volumes with the new text appeared in 1868 as volume 40 to 46 of the Collection of British Authors, using the same series numbers as the original issues, but with the 1868 date on the title page of each volume.  Although this seems entirely sensible, it was actually very unusual for Tauchnitz ever to change the date on the title page.  Usually the original first edition date remained on the title page of all later printings, even many decades later.   Here the 1868 date distinguishes the new edition, but in line with the usual practice, later reprints of this edition then retained 1868 on the title page, even well into the 1930s.

In the original paperback, the volumes initially said ‘Second Edition’ clearly on the front wrapper, which presumably meant the Second Tauchnitz Edition.  On the title page though they refer only to ‘the Rev. Alexander Dyce’s Second Edition’, which is a rather different thing.  Dyce also wanted to make clear that the dedication to John Forster was  the dedication of his second edition rather than just the Tauchnitz Edition, so had it dated 1866 rather than 1868, and inserted a note at the top saying ‘Dedication to the Second Edition’.  This serves only to confuse, as it could equally well refer to the second Tauchnitz Edition.

  Tauchnitz Shakespeare 1868 front wrapper vol. 40  Tauchnitz Shakespeare 1868 title page vol. 40

As with the 1843 edition, the books appeared not only as seven volumes in the main Tauchnitz series, at half a Thaler per volume, but also as individual plays, numbered from 1 to 37, selling for 1/10th of a Thaler each.  Unlike the 1843 edition though, there is no dual numbering of pages.   The individual plays all have their own page numbering, suggesting that they may have had their own stereotype plates.  It would presumably have been a relatively small task to change the page numbering after taking a first mould from the original page of type, and then take a second mould.  Each mould would be used to create a stereotype plate that would then be stored for use on reprints.

And there were many, many reprints.  Shakespeare plays were a steady seller for Tauchnitz for almost a century in total, and distinguishing the date of reprints is a puzzle of enormous complexity.  With bound copies it can be almost impossible, although a first clue is that earlier printings have the series number on the half-title in roman numerals, later printings in standard arabic numerals.

With paperbacks it’s a bit easier, and for the individual plays it is often the paperbacks that survive, as few of them were individually bound. They’re distinguished most easily by the price shown on the wrapper – 1/10 Thlr. for the first printing, then M. 0,30 from around 1871, modified to M 0,30 from 1892, increased to M 0,40 from 1916 and so on.  Full details in the Todd & Bowden bibliography.  In my experience the earliest paperbacks, showing the price as 1/10 of a Thaler are difficult to find now, but copies from the 1870s / 1880s are much more common.

Wrapper price example

  Shakespeare F6 Merchant of Venice 1868 first printing  Shakespeare F6 Merchant of Venice 1868 reprint wb

Around the time of the First World War, a new format for the individual plays was adopted, slightly smaller and more like the volumes of the Tauchnitz Pocket Library sold in wartime.   Variants of this format (still with Dyce’s name on the title page) continued to be sold right through until the Second World War put an effective end to Tauchnitz.

Shakespeare F10 Twefth Night 1930s reprint

A reprint of one of the individual plays, from the 1930s

Rather sadly, Alexander Dyce never saw the longevity achieved by the edition that he gave his name to.  He died in May 1869, shortly after the first publication.  His displaced rival, John Payne Collier, surviving to 1883, could only watch and grit his teeth.

Boxing clever – the first 6 Albatross books

The launch of Albatross books in 1932 was a key moment in the paperback revolution, even if not fully recognised as such at the time.  It signalled the imminent demise of Tauchnitz, which had dominated English language publishing in Continental Europe for almost a century.  It was to be the inspiration for the launch of Penguin Books three years later.  And it was in some respects the moment that paperbacks came of age in the twentieth century.

A lot of planning and preparation had gone into the launch, which brought together three remarkable men, John Holroyd-Reece, Max Christian Wegner and Kurt Enoch.  Their stories are too long and varied to cover here, but all three played important roles in publishing history, even apart from their time at Albatross.   It was important for them that the first list of Albatross titles made a statement about the ambitions of the new series.

Albatross First six anouncement

It was a mixed list, establishing the principle that the series would cover a range of genres and styles.  A crime story and a romance rubbed shoulders with more literary fiction.   A volume of short stories was published alongside the first volume of an historical family saga.   There was something for everyone, and importantly, with colour coding by genre, the mix of types of book was reflected in a mix of colours for the first six books.

The choice of the first three authors – James Joyce, Aldous Huxley and Sinclair Lewis, seemed to say that the series would be more at the cutting edge of modern literature than Tauchnitz had been in recent years.   It also said something about the ability of Albatross to attract authors away from Tauchnitz.

James Joyce in particular had been neglected by Tauchnitz.  They had eventually published ‘A portrait of the artist as a young man’ in 1930, some ten years after being offered it, but had shown little interest in his other works.  So for Albatross, publishing ‘Dubliners’ as volume 1 was an open goal.

Huxley and Lewis had been treated better, with Tauchnitz publishing six volumes of Huxley and three from Lewis, arguably including their most important works.  But that was far from comprehensive coverage and as with Joyce, Albatross was able to target earlier works, overlooked by Tauchnitz, before later publishing new works.  Sinclair Lewis had in 1930 become the first American author to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, so it was a good time to be revisiting his earlier works.

The next three titles were perhaps a bit lighter, but Rogue Herries by Hugh Walpole was a significant prize.  It was the first of the Herries Chronicles, a trilogy of books set in the Lake District, and probably the work for which Walpole is best remembered now.  He too had to be attracted away from Tauchnitz, which had published several of his earlier works, as did Warwick Deeping.   As Tauchnitz had had a near monopoly on publishing English literature in Europe, it was almost inevitable that the authors Albatross wanted to publish would already have had dealings with Tauchnitz.

The launch of the first six titles was also marked by the issue of a boxed set of the six books.  I have little idea how many of these were produced or sold, or indeed the price at which it was offered.  I have only ever seen the one example, illustrated below, and that is in less than perfect condition.  Although the box has no Albatross branding, I am pretty sure that it was produced for Albatross, rather than just being a home-made affair.  It’s possible though that it was produced only for presentation copies, offered to business contacts and colleagues.

Box Set First Six 2

Just one of the books in this box still has its transparent dustwrapper, and that is in poor condition, but all the books would originally have had them.   They were easily damaged and after a year or so, new titles were instead given paper dustwrappers in the same design as the books.

Aldous Huxley in Tauchnitz and Albatross – Part 2

For Part 1, follow this link.

In 1934 Tauchnitz was on the point of collapse.   Its brash new rival, Albatross, had succeeded far beyond its expectations and had stripped Tauchnitz of its sales, its authors and its prestige.   Tauchnitz was ready to admit defeat and to agree to being bought by Albatross, but one thing stood in the way.  The National Socialists, the Nazis,  had just come to power in Germany, and Albatross was a company with multiple Jewish connections.    In the political climate of the time, such a transaction was impossible.

Instead a complicated arrangement was put in place where Tauchnitz was bought by Brandstetter, the German printing firm that printed Albatross books.  Brandstetter passed editorial control to Albatross, but kept the printing work for itself.   From 1934, editorial control of both series was handled from Paris by Albatross.

Aldous Huxley smoking, circa 1946

Aldous Huxley

With Huxley and various other writers though, they had a problem.  Their books were being burned by the Nazis and were appearing on various lists of banned books.   Albatross / Tauchnitz had to tread carefully along a narrow line if they were to survive at all in Germany.   They had to exercise some self-censorship not only in terms of what they published, but how they published it and where they sold it.  The story is told in some detail and in very entertaining form in Michele Troy’s new book ‘Strange Bird.  The Albatross Press and the Third Reich’.

Strange Bird

On the face of it, it made little difference whether books were published by Albatross or by Tauchnitz.  Editorial control of both series was from the same office in Paris, the books of both series were printed at the same printer in Leipzig, and they were distributed by the same distributor in Hamburg.  But the evidence of the books suggests a different story.  Tauchnitz after all was a German firm, with a higher proportion of its sales in Germany, and had to be extremely careful about publishing writers that were not approved of by the German government.  Albatross, although coming under considerable German control, seemed to be allowed a little more freedom.   Its books, printed in Germany, but sold across Europe, earned valuable foreign currency for Germany and the Nazis were prepared to be a bit more tolerant.

But it seems clear that Huxley was no longer to be tolerated as a Tauchnitz author.   He had moved to Albatross anyway for new publications, but even works for which Tauchnitz already had the rights were not reprinted.   The Tauchnitz bibliography records reprint dates for the six Huxley volumes in Tauchnitz editions.  Each was reprinted several times, but none of them after the end of 1934.   A similar pattern exists for D.H. Lawrence and other writers not approved of by the Nazis.

Instead Huxley’s books were transferred across to the Albatross series.  The two volumes of short stories, ‘Two or three graces’ and ‘Brief candles’ were reprinted in 1935 as Albatross volumes 246 and 247, followed shortly afterwards by ‘Music at night and other essays’ as volume 260.  ‘Point Counter Point’ appeared in April 1937 as volumes 331 and 332.

Two volume, or even three volume novels had been a long tradition for Tauchnitz, although gradually dropping out of favour by the 1930s.  For Albatross, they were almost unheard of.  Longer novels appeared, not in two volumes, but in a larger ‘extra volume’ sold at a higher price.  Presumably they could have done that with ‘Point Counter Point’, but, perhaps for contractual reasons, they chose to retain the Tauchnitz two volume format.  Unlike Tauchnitz though, they offered the two volumes for sale together in a slipcase.

Point counter point with slipcase

This transfer of Huxley’s books across to Albatross was probably made necessary by implicit censorship, but it made some sense anyway for editorial reasons.  Albatross had been the more modern, edgier series, and Tauchnitz the more traditional, conservative one, even before the takeover.   With new books still being added to both series, there had to be some basis for deciding which books appeared in which series and Huxley fitted better into Albatross.  The opportunity to develop a ‘collected edition’ of Huxley’s works in Albatross may have been too good to miss.

Huxley Collected Edition ad

On the other hand, shifting books from one series to the other could also have a financial impact.  The two firms had different ownership structures, so profits from the books could end up in a different place.  The Tauchnitz bibliographers, Todd & Bowden, accused the Albatross managers, particularly John Holroyd-Reece, of systematically transferring profits away from Tauchnitz, to the detriment of the new owners, Brandstetter.

This is probably unfair, and seems to take no account of the difficult circumstances in Germany at the time.  Whether the various dealings were fair to Brandstetter or not, depends upon the basis on which they went into the arrangement, what the ongoing financial arrangements were, and also on what was politically possible in 1930s Germany.   They did after all buy Tauchnitz at a time when, without the support of Albatross, it had little future or value at all.  It is likely that Brandstetter’s financial interest came more from printing the books of both firms than from the profits of publishing.  But the details of the arrangements were to be of vital importance later when war came to separate the firms.

Albatross 269 Beyond the Mexique Bay

There was still the question of  whether any further new works of Huxley’s could be published.  ‘Beyond the Mexique Bay’, appeared in Britain in 1934, nominally a record of Huxley’s travels in Mexico and Central America, but also including long sections that were critical of fascism and offensive to the German government.   It could not appear in translation in Germany but it might be more tolerated in English.  It did appear in 1935, as Albatross volume 269, but only after considerable self-censorship by the Albatross editors – “die Schere im Kopf”, or the scissors in your own head, as described by Michele Troy’s book.  Even then it’s an open question as to how openly it could be sold in Germany as opposed to other European countries.

It was followed by ‘The olive tree and other essays’ in August 1937 (volume 336) and then by ‘Eyeless in Gaza’ in January 1938 as volume 358.  Finally in July 1939, only a few weeks before the outbreak of war, came ‘Along the Road’, another collection of essays, originally published in Britain as early as 1925, so another example of catching up with Huxley’s earlier works.

In total then, 14 Huxley volumes in Albatross, five of them transferred across from Tauchnitz (and one more that never transferred), covering almost all his pre-war novels and short stories, as well as a representative selection of his essays and travel writing.   In the end only D.H. Lawrence accounted for more volumes in the series, although Agatha Christie was level on fourteen.  For a series that was printed in Germany in the 1930s and a writer whose books were burned and appeared on banned lists, that was quite an achievement.

Albatross Spines Aldous Huxley no slipcase