The year is 1905. You are 26 years old and have just been granted a job interview with J.P. Morgan for the coveted position of his personal librarian.
He is one of the most powerful men in the world. You are a librarian with a secret that could upend your personal and professional life if anyone discovered it. But you have something to offer Mr. Morgan, and you promise to make his personal library the best collection of art and precious manuscripts in the world.
He hires you on the spot.
This is the story of Belle da Costa Greene (1879-1950), J.P. Morgan’s personal librarian and the first curator of the Morgan Library and Museum. She took on the role in 1905 and, through her determination and steadfast commitment to her job, made the Morgan Library the cultural institution it is today.
The Morgan Library is a well-stocked and beautifully maintained collection of over 350,000 objects including rare books, paintings, manuscripts, photographs, and maps. Some of the most famous objects in the collection include Henry David Thoreau’s journals, three Gutenberg Bibles, and William Caxton’s one and only fully intact printing of Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur.
The latter was Greene’s most famous acquisition by far, and even considered by some to be the white whale of her career: it was a goal she had been working towards ever since she was hired in 1905, at the request of Mr. Morgan. She supervised the acquisitions of rare books and manuscripts, outbidding other curators at high-profile auctions as, often, the only woman in the room.
This influence over the Morgan Library, originally a private collection inaccessible to the public, became well-known in New York City and beyond. Greene would often travel overseas to Europe for her acquisitions, sometimes meeting privately with the group or individual selling the object of interest beforehand to make them an offer.
This made Greene one of the most powerful women in New York City, although her power rested primarily in the acquisitions of rare, expensive objects for Mr. Morgan. She could spend tens of thousands of dollars in one night, even if the money as well as the directive was provided by her employer.
As for Greene’s personal life, she reportedly had a flirtatious, easy-going demeanor. She was paid extremely well, making $10,000 a year for the first few years of her career at the Morgan Library (around $300,000 when adjusted for inflation) and even more later on in her career. Greene was comfortable in large parties and meetings with powerful, rich people like the Fricks and members of Morgan’s extended family. She fit in the rich New Yorkers’ early 1900s world seamlessly, slipping in as though she had belonged there all along.
But Greene wasn’t who she said she was. She was born in Washington D.C., and her full name was actually Belle Marion Greener, not Belle da Costa Greene. She also did not have Portuguese ancestry as she claimed; that was a lie intended to obscure the fact that Greene was Black.
In her adolescence, she, as well as her mother and siblings, changed their last name to Greene and passed for white. The family had light complexions that allowed them to do this, though Belle and her brother Russell added the name “da Costa” to their last name, implying Portuguese heritage that could account for their slightly darker skin tones.
Even so, Greene’s identity was not free from suspicion at the time; there were several people who questioned the authenticity of her connection to Portugal and whether she was truly who she claimed to be. But these suspicions were limited to a few people, and not discussed in public, mostly seen as gossip rather than a credible claim. News reporters would often make references to her dark hair and skin, but they never amounted to anything substantial. In fact, Greene’s true identity was only uncovered—with irrefutable evidence—in 1999. The evidence was Belle’s birth certificate, with her race designated with a ‘C’ for colored.
Though Greene’s story is unquestionably unique, the subject of passing in American society is not. It is estimated that hundreds of thousands of African Americans passed as white in the 1900s Jim Crow era, for obvious reasons: escaping racial discrimination and race-based violence, and to achieve success or some semblance of equality in a society that would not accept them as they truly were. Though passing for white conferred many advantages in society, it could also be psychologically damaging: having to cut ties with Black family members and one’s culture and background could be extremely difficult.
In Greene’s case, passing for white necessitated cutting ties with her Black family members, including her estranged father Richard T. Greener, an African American activist and the first Black graduate of Harvard College. Her parents separated shortly before her mother and siblings began passing for white. Though the reason for their separation is unknown, Greene’s father never passed for white in a professional setting, instead choosing to uphold his identity as a Black man. This meant that Greene could not have acknowledged her connection to her father without her true identity being revealed; it is unclear whether she ever saw her father again after her parents’ separation.
New York, which is often hailed as a city of progressivism and equality, was deeply racist at the time that Greene and her family lived there. It would have been immediately devastating for Greene if her true identity as a Black woman was revealed. She would most likely have lost her job, and her and her family’s lives would have been upended by the social turmoil caused by it.
Belle had long dreamed of being a librarian; she reportedly told a journalist that she knew she wanted to work with rare books from the age of 12. Her father, formerly a librarian himself, introduced her to rare books and she quickly fell in love with them, admiring the antiquity of the objects and their intrinsic value. She worked as a librarian for Princeton University for several years after attending college, where she gained the experience that would help her in her role as Mr. Morgan’s personal librarian. That role was also where she met Mr. Morgan’s nephew, Junius Morgan, who introduced Greene to Mr. Morgan and advocated for her to be hired as his librarian.
The job was not an easy one, but it was very rewarding for Greene. It was a great source of joy in her life—she held the position for 43 years, even after J.P. Morgan’s death in 1913. Greene never married or had children, a fact that many speculate may have resulted from her decision to pass as white. If she had had children, they may have had darker skin tones indicating African American heritage and compromising Greene’s precarious position in New York society. Greene had a long-term affair with the art critic Bernard Berenson, but she burned his letters to her prior to her death in 1950. She guarded her personal life and innermost thoughts and feelings closely; in addition to burning his letters, she also destroyed her personal diary, about which she stated “I write things I hardly dare think.” Berenson kept her letters intact, however, and they can be viewed here.
The letters that Greene sent to Berenson are illuminating, offering a rare glimpse into Greene’s inner life, which she kept private. It’s possible that even the letters she sent to Berenson were not as personal as he may have thought them to be; it is unlikely that she ever told him of her true identity. Nevertheless, they are one of the few artifacts that have persisted in the years after Greene’s time that showcase her personality and inner life.
In one particular letter, Greene urges Berenson not to judge J.P. Morgan too harshly, expressing a sense of kinship and respect for the man, writing, “Few people indeed, realize the continual strife that goes on in his life—the ever-recurring bitterness of knowing that his kindness, friendship and rare affection, has met with a base or at best poor return.” The nature of her relationship with J.P. Morgan was the subject of much gossip during the time they worked together; when asked in an interview if she and Mr. Morgan had ever engaged in an affair, Greene reportedly responded, “We tried.”
After J.P. Morgan’s death in 1913, Greene wrote a letter to Berenson describing her grief. She began the letter by writing, “I think you will know how almost impossible it is for me to write—but you are all I have left now.”
After Mr. Morgan’s death, his eldest son Jack took over the collection and kept Greene on as librarian. She continued supervising acquisitions for the library, and the Morgan Library became a public institution open to all in 1924. This was an important part of J.P. Morgan’s as well as Greene’s legacy. Had the Morgan remained a private collection, it would still have been an incredible accomplishment, but the knowledge and rare objects preserved in the collection would have been contained to a select few individuals. Opening the collection to the public allowed it to truly flourish—knowledge is only truly powerful when it is accessible to all who seek it.
Belle da Costa Greene was an extraordinary woman, and her legacy lives on in every aspect of the Morgan Library and Museum. She made it what it is today, and her contributions have not been forgotten.
This is the story of Belle da Costa Greene (1879-1950), J.P. Morgan’s personal librarian and the first curator of the Morgan Library and Museum. She took on the role in 1905 and, through her determination and steadfast commitment to her job, made the Morgan Library the cultural institution it is today.