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BITS FROMAN OLD BOOK SHOP


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BITS FROMAN OLD BOOK SHOP

R. M. WILLIAMSON

LONDON :SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & Co., Ltd.

EDINBURGH AND GLASGOW :JOHN MENZIES & CO.

1904.


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3^Wt

TO ALL LOVERS OF BOOKS


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CONTENTS.I. THE PLEASURES OF BOOK-

SELLING .II. HOW I BECAME A BOOK-SELLER .

III. THE LITTLE RED FLAG.IV. LOVERS OF BOOKSV. AMENITIES OF BOOKBUYINGVI. THE VALUE OF OLD BOOKSVII. THE GENTLE ART OF BOOK

HUNTING .VIII. UNDER THE HAMMER .IX. THE IDEAL BOOKSELLERX. SHADES OF THE OLD BOOK

SELLERS .XL THE TWOrENNY BOX .XII. ECCENTRIC CUSTOMERS.XIII. SUCCESSFUL BOOKSXIV. A PENNY A NIGHTXV. THE PAINS AND PLEASURES

OF BEING AN AUTHOR .

1723303643

50566470869297

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BITS FROM AN OLDBOOK SHOP.i.

THE PLEASURES OF BOOK-SELLING.Buying and selling old books is a mostdelightful occupation. Let poets sing ofthe pleasures of hope, the pleasures of theimagination, the pleasures of memory, oressayists write of the pleasures of litera-ture, 'tis mine to praise the pleasures ofbookselling.The bookseller lives in a bygone world.

He is daily in close communion with thegood and wise of all ages ; he has Shake-speare, Milton, Dante, Homer, as his com-panions, and he is ever and anon comingacross some rare treasure, and beingintroduced to new friends.The pleasures of hope, imagination,memory, and literature arc all his. He


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10 BITS FROMis cheered by the hope of meeting aCaxton printed book, or a first folioShakespeare, or a Kilmarnock Burnsthe delights of imagination are his as hesoars on the wings of fancy with somepoet or story-teller; the sweet memoriesof past intellectual pleasures are ever withhim, and all literature, past and present,is his to enjoy.A second-hand bookseller's shop is asunlike any other class of shop as one'sown home is unlike a hired lodging.When you go to a linen draper's place ofbusiness you are expected to buy some-thing. You cannot try on a new silk tie,or a pair of gloves, and then leave theplace without purchasing; neither canyou go to a greengrocer's and taste thefruits without spending money ; but onemay go to a bookseller's store, and ex-amine every book in the place, read a bitout of one volume, look at the pictures inanother, admire the binding of a third,and finish by having a friendly gossipwith the bookseller, and never be askedto spend a penny.The bookseller who understands his

business never shows any anxiety to sellhis treasures ; he acts as if it were amatter of perfect indifference to himwhether he sells his books or not. Hischief aim is to make his visitors feel athome in his shop, and having induced thecustomers to look at his wares, he leaves


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AN OLD BOOK SHOI\ 11the books themselves to complete thetransactions.

In front of the windows outside hisshop, the dealer arranges his cheaperbooks on stalls, so that the passer-by maybe tempted. One box is filled with pennybooks, another with twopenny, and so on,up to volumes at one shilling each ; atthe door of the shop a polite invitation tostep inside and look round the shelves isexhibited.

In looking over the books on the stallsoutside, one comes across all kinds ofoddities. Side by side with " Drelincourton Death" lies "How to Live Long";and on the top of an odd volume of " TenThousand a Year" reclines " How to Liveon Sixpence a Day." " The Blessings ofSorrow " may be met in the same boxwith " How to be Happy " ; while suchworks as "Joe Miller's Jest Book,""Baxter's Call to the Unconverted,"" The Maiden's Dream Book and FortuneTeller," "Dr Begg on the Organ Ques-tion," "Card Tricks," "The Confession ofFaith," "Buffalo Bill," "Blair's Sermons,""The Female Detective," "Advice toYoung Men," lie higgledy-piggledy inthe threepenny box.

It is surprising the number of bookswhich are sold through being exposed onthese outside stalls. Many of them wouldnever sell in the ordinary way of business.They are not good enough to catalogue,


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12 BITS FROMand would have to be disposed of to therag merchant, and finish their career aspapier-mache.To arrange this interesting medley ofliterature requires no small amount ofexperience and art. The bookseller inthe morning is like an expert anglergoing forth for a day's sport. As thefisher chooses his flies, so the booksellerhis books. How carefully he studies theprices to be affixed to the various volumes,how he avoids frightening his customersaway by ticketing the more expensiveones too obtrusively. When a bookseems too high-priced, he usually apolo-gises by writing " scarce " or " out ofprint" on the ticket. The penny andtwopenny books are like so many wormson a hook, by whose means the adroitdealer draws his customer inside theshop.The bibliomaniac's fever usually com-

mences at the bookstall. Of all kinds ofhuman weaknesses, the craze for collect-ing old books is the most excuseable.During the early phases of the disease,the book-lover is content to purchaseonly books which he reads. Next hebuys books which he means to read ; andas his store accumulates, he hopes to readhis purchases ; but by-and-by he takeshome books in beautiful bindings and ofearly date, but printed in extinct lan-guages which he cannot read.


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 13The bookseller is a student of men as

well as of books, and lie knows well howto entrap his victims to his palace of de-lights. The dealer in fancy goods keepshis shop bright with paint and gilding,but the old bookseller knows better.Paint and gold would frighten his cus-tomers away ; dust and dinginess have apeculiar attraction and an indescribablecharm for book buyers ; and a second-hand book shop should have an air ofantiquity about it, so as to be in keepingwith the leather-bound and vellum-covered books.The bookseller himself must possess a

certain old-world dignity about him, inharmony with his trade. When he an-swers his customers' queries, he shouldspeak with an air of authority and wis-dom ; he should be wise enough to expressan opinion on everything connected withliterature ; be able to quote Shakespeare,Burns, or Carlyle, and discuss the writ-ings of a Darwin, Tyndall, or Ruskin.

It is not in keeping with his professionfor a bookseller to be too young ; or if hehas the misfortune to be young he shouldappear old, and be antique in his conver-sation and ways.A bookseller should be able to tell avariety of good stories about people pick-ing up bargajns at bookstallssuch as theanecdote about the man who got a firstedition of Shelley's " Queen Mab " for 2d,


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14 BITS FROMor the legend of the fortunate fellow whobought Caxton's " Game of Chesse " for 6d,or the more modern tale about the Irishworthy who found a Mazarin Bible in ahuckster's shop in a back street in Dublin.

These appetising stories are as fuel to thefire of the bibliomaniac's fever, and bringfresh visitors to the bookstalls. It is sodelightful to think that in looking overan old bookstall one may come across for2d a book worth its weight in gold.In Sir Noel Paton's allegorical picture,"The Pursuit of Pleasure," the votariesare charmed to their doom by a beautifulfemale ; the bibliomaniac is fascinated bythe hope of obtaining some rare prize froman ignorant dealer, and in searching forhis rarity he cannot resist purchasingother books which he hopes will go up invalue in the future. But the booksellerlives for the present, not for the futureand as long as he sells his books he issatisfied.Have you ever watched a skilful andexperienced bookseller selling a book ? Acustomer, in looking round the shelves,conies across a volume he would like topossess, but he fears his limited pursemay not admit of its purchase. He takesthe work to the dealer and asks the price.Does the bookseller immediately give hisvictim a direct answer by naming the sumat which he values the book 1 Nay, butcarefully taking the coveted treasure in


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 15his hand, he dusts it with his coat sleeves,looks admiringly on the outside binding,opens the volume, examines the platescarefully, descants on the exquisite print-ing, praises the binding, and talkslearnedly on the rarity of the editionquotes the extravagant prices it hasbrought at certain sales ; and seems byhis manner to hesitate as to whether heshould sell the book or not. This makesthe would-be purchaser more anxious toobtain it; and at last, when the sellerhas adroitly made the work appear to befar more valuable and rare than it reallyis, he names his price, with the result thathis customer carries the book away re-joicing, and boasts to his friends how heobtained for such a small sum a treasureof such great value.

This is one of the greatest pleasures ofa bookseller's career, the pleasure of sell-ing cheap, and giving all his customersthe best of value.

Booksellers are constantly giving theirpatrons extraordinary bargains. In Lon-don recently a copy of an early editionof Keats' Poems, originally bought froma dealer for 2s was sold for 140, and afirst edition of Burns' Poems bought inEdinburgh for Is 6d brought 350.The other day I sold a copy ofThackeray's "Samuel Titmarsh," 1849,for 8s. A month later I had the pleasureof seeing the very same book sold by


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16 BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP.auction for .4, 15s. The dealer whobought the book from me at 8s sent itright off to the saleroom, and whilstpocketing his profit chuckled at havingcaught the old bookseller napping.The pleasure of benefiting humanity is

a pleasure the bookseller possesses in nosmall degree. In purchasing books frompeople who are weary of them, or have nofurther use for them, he rescues literaturefrom lying idly aside, or from being de-stroyed by moths or damp ; and in re-sell-ing these books to fresh readers, he givesforgotten authors a new lease of life,helps to keep the immortal spirit oflearning alive, and gives anew to men thedelights of knowing the great minds ofthe past


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II.

HOW I BECAME A BOOK-SELLER.When I was a schoolboy I had twoambitionsone was to become a book-seller, the other to be a showman.The old town of Selkirk is built on abraeside, surrounded by hills, and fromvarious points one can see the classic glenof Yarrow, the wilder but less knownvale of Ettrick, and far away in the mistthe peaks of the hills which overshadowthe silvery Tweed.

In Selkirk there was a bookseller's shop,into the windows of which we boys gazedwith admiring wonder every day. Thebookseller who owned the shop was anold gentleman of mild aspect, whosedress, manners, and tone of voice were inour eyes the perfection of respectability.We thought him a far greater andwealthier man than the minister, andthe doctor was a nobody compared tohim. He seemed to spend his timewriting, reading, and meditating. Wenever saw him cleaning the windows,sweeping the floor, or dusting the shop.


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18 BITS FROMHe was dressed in black, and was alwaysso tidy and neat, that he seemed as iffresh out of a bandbox.When we ventured within the precinctsof the establishment a young man ap-peared from some back region to attendto our modest wants, but our ideal book-seller never rose from his chair or deignedto look our way. Once a carriage andpair drove up to the shop door, and wesaw, to our wonder, the gentlemanly pro-prietor himself emerge from the premises,head uncovered, and with a stately bowand respectful smile, open the carriagedoor, while a lovely being of aristocraticbearing lightly stepped down and enteredthe shop. This fair lady was the daughterof a wealthy nobleman who had an estatein the county ; and as we flattened ourfaces against the window pane, we couldsee our model bookseller behind thecounter, with a beaming and respectfulexpression, attending to the lady.When we boys planned our future voca-tions in life, we one and all decided to bebooksellers. We did not mean to beyoung men selling halfpenny-worths ofslate pencils, or penny bottles of ink, tolittle boys, but we meant to be full-fledgedbooksellers right off. How jolly it wouldbe to sit on a chair doing nothing all day,to have no lessons to learn, or no master'stawse to fear ; to have an unlimited supplyof stories to read, a young man to do all


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 19the work, and the privilege of talking toand smiling at a real nobleman's daughter

Selkirk Fair was to us schoolboys thegreat event of the year. The memory ofthat great day even now fills me withpleasure. On the clay previous to theFair, we went miles along the Galashielsroad to meet the show people. Wewatched the formation of the processionsand followed with eager delight thetriumphal march of the band into thetown. How we loved and adored thebeautiful lady with golden hair, who saton one of the cars enthroned as a queen,with her feet on a real living lion's head.Our parents took us to the Fair, and

treated us to big cakes of gingerbread,wrapped up in green and yellow tissuepaper. "We were allowed to drink lemon-ade and ginger beer, and to eat pies andtarts innumerable. We strutted aboutthe Fair thinking ourselves men, andwere deliriously happy. The gaudy tinselto us was real gold, the hurdy-gurdy'sbroken notes was the grandest of music,the dancing girls seemed angels, and theentrance to the shows was like the gatesof Paradise.One of the showmen was our hero. He

was the greatest, grandest, biggest andmost wonderful man we had ever beheldthe bookseller was a nonentity comparedto him." Walk hup ! walk hup ! ladies and


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20 BITS FROMgentlemen," he shouted to us, and as weboys paid our pennies and walked up thegolden stairs we felt awfully proud to becalled "gentlemen" by such a splendid-looking man.

His beard was the biggest and blackestbeard we had ever seen, his voice was theloudest voice we had ever heard, he wasthe tallest man we had ever looked up to,and he was the most gorgeously-arrayedindividual we had ever beheld. He worea crimson coat, yellow vest, and brightblue trousers, and on his massive headwas a tall white hat. His fingers werecovered with rings, and a heavy gold chainwas round his neck.

Oh, how I wished to be a showman, tobe the owner of a circus, a steam-drivenmusical box, a performing donkey, and tobe the master of a clown ; to wear grandcoloured attire, a diamond pin, a whitehat, and to carry a gold-mounted whip;to live in a caravan, and to be evermoreattending fairs ! But, alas ! for my ambi-tion, my practical father apprenticed mewhen I left school to Mr Bell the tailor.A tailor I would have been to this dayif it had not been for buttonholes. Imanaged to stitch on the buttons, butcould not make a proper buttonhole, andone day my master lost his temper andstruck me across the knuckles with hisscissors. I ran home crying, and nothingwould induce me to go near that tailor's


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 21shop again. Even now when I revisit mynative place I cross over to the other sideof the street.The worthy man who taught me how to

buy and sell old books is now away fromhis old book shop, and his stock has beenscattered by the auctioneer's hammer.He was very frugal, and, indeed, miserly.He amassed a small fortune, but lost it bypublishing a newspaper, and the worry ofit killed him.There are in Edinburgh five successfulbooksellers who were originally employedby this father of bibliopoles.About twenty-five years ago the lateMr Samuel Hunter built a block of shops,

with houses above, on Leith Walk, almoston the site where William Chambersbegan business half a century earlier. Iventured to rent one of the smallest ofthe new shops (No. 325), and on a certainSaturday in December 1878 drew downthe shutters for the first time.A two shilling copy of " Adam Bede "was the first book I sold. The gentlemanwho bought it was named Adam Black.He is still an occasional customer; I alwayslike to see him looking over the books.

During the afternoon I bought from aman a copy of Barclay's Dictionary forIs 6d ; I sold it half an hour after for2s Gd, and thought how pleasant andprofitable a thing it was to be a book-seller.


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22 BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP.How happy I felt on that Saturday

night after closing. I had drawn nearlyfour pounds, and thought I was going tobe a second Nelson or Chambers. I thinkthe beginnings of things are always themost interesting. The early struggles,the overcoming of difficulties, the firstblows in the battle of life, are in books ofbiography the most fascinating pages.One looks back to the first day's experi-ence in a new enterprise as to a red-letterday which can never be forgotten. Thereis the uncertainty, the alternating hopesand fears, of it all, and the day crownedwith a promise of future success.

Mansie Waugh, the night before heopened his shop in Dalkeith, went out toview his sign by candle light. In LeithWalk I did not need a candle, but I wouldnot like to tell how often I viewed thesign over my shop from the other side ofthe Walk, both before and after I beganbusiness as a bookseller.


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III.

THE LITTLE RED FLAG.In passing along the streets of a large cityone often sees a little red flag, attached toa short stick, hanging from the entranceto a common stair, at the gate of a villa,or over a shop door. No part of the townseems to be free from the display of thissignal. It usually begins to flutter in theair before eleven in the forenoon, andmysteriously vanishes before tea-time.This symbol never appears on Sundaysnor general holidays, but with these ex-ceptions it is to be seen daily in one partof the city or another. It invades themost aristocratic neighbourhoods. It hasbeen seen in the Koyal Terrace, in PrincesStreet, Moray Place, and in the Cowgate.Wherever the red flag goes it is fol-

lowed by a motley crowd of humanity.The same type of men and women are tobe seen day after day, gathering like vul-tures at the houses marked with thisbright coloured device. Curiosity maylead one to inquire into the meaning ofthe invasion of the red banner, and fol-

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24 BITS FROMlowing some broker into the place onefinds that there is to be an auction sale inthe house. There arises in the heart afeeling of regretful sadness when one seesthe household treasures, the "lares andpenates " of a family exposed to the rudegaze of every passer-by.

It is cruel and heartrending to a sensi-tive spirit to see the eager crowd ofwould-be purchasers examining the goodswhich are to be disposed of. One ferret-eyed dealer tries the legs of a table to seeif it is firm ; another inserts his knife intoan old arm-chair to find if it is stuffedwith straw or hair, a third taps a mirror,and makes faces at it, so as to discoverthe thickness of the glass. A young ladytries the tone of the pianoforte with a barof "There is a happy land," while a stoutold dame examines some china cups,knocking them against each other to seeif they are sound. A sharp-looking manis carefully measuring the shelves of abook-case, and an individual, with thepeculiar knack of his trade, is examiningthe books.Nothing is sacred to the dealer. Into

every room and nook and corner of thehouse, from kitchen to attic, the eagerbargain-hunters penetrate ; everything isminutely examined, cupboards arc ran-sacked, drawers of cabinets are pulledout, locks and keys are tried, feather bedsare tossed about, wardrobes are opened


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 25and garments inspectednothing withinreach is left untouched. The broker hasno memories linked with the goods onview, he has no sentiment connected withthe household gods, no love for the oldarm-chair, nor the family Bible, no desireto keep as a treasure the grandfather'sclock. Ho loves the furniture only forthe money it will bring ; his one desire isto obtain a bargain. The dealer lives andflourishes and fattens on the ruin anddecay of cherished memories.A home is a sacred place ; the pictureson the walls may not be of much mone-tary value, but they are hallowed bymemories of those dear ones who placedthem there ; the books may be old andshabby, they may not be first editions,but were they not treasured and read andre-read by our fathers'? Every littleknick-knack in a home twines itselfaround one's heart as one remembers someincident which connects it with the past.How bitter then it must be to have one'srooms invaded by a crowd of unsym-pathetic strangers, who care nothing forthe precious associations linked with everybit of furniture, and how cruel to see somany hard-faced men and women examin-ing with greedy eyes and careless handsthe treasured idols of one's home.The auctioneer, with his glossy silkhat and genial air of importance, appears,followed by his clerk, with pen, ink, sale

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26 BITS FROMroll, and cash bag. The sale is conductedwith a quiet business-like method. Everyarticle must be sold, and it is wonderfulhow everything finds a purchaser.

If there is a garden connected with thehouse the sale commences outside, whenflower-pots, plants, and garden utensilsare sold. The kitchen is the next sceneof operations. A sweeping brush, prettywell done, is knocked down for three-pence, a cracked kettle and three tea-potstwo wanting lidsbring sixpence,a large lot of pots of jam, an umbrellastand, and a gas cooking stove, are put upas a lot, and after a spirited competitionare disposed of for two and fivepence.As the sale proceeds from room to room,there is a good deal of crushing and hust-ling among the crowd. How the roomshold so many people is a mystery, andhow the porter manages to pilot his wayamongst the people and hold up thevarious articles for sale is a wonder.A good proportion of the fair sex followthe profession of brokers. Evidently theythrive by their trade, if one may judgefrom their well-fed, contented looks, andfrom the amount of costly finery withwhich their ample persons are adorned.It is curious to see so many women of thesame type drawn together by an auctionsale, and although they outbid each other,and are eager after bargains, they seemall to be quite friendly amongst them-selves.


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 27Sometimes a newly-married, very youngman appears at one of these sales, and

purchases a lot of things he doesn't knowanything ahout, and for which he mayhave no earthly use. In my early marrieddays I bought what the auctioneer de-scribed as a "magnificent pendant gasa-lier," and a perambulator, in which Iwheeled it home. The gasalier wasabsolutely useless. I employed a plumberto get it fixed, and when that was donethe gas would not come through the pipes,as they were hopelessly plugged up, sothe old-fashioned gas jet had to be refixedup, and a scavenger tipped to take thegasalier away. The perambulator cost sixshillings, but one of the wheels broke thefirst day we took baby out, and we had topay half a crown for a cab to take thechild and the carriage home.As a rule articles of rarity, or ofspecial value, are not sold in these housesales, but are removed to the centralrooms for special catalogue sale, but nowand again a valuable picture, or bit offurniture, is overlooked and disposed ofin a house. Bargains in this way aresometimes obtained, but if two or threeexperts see a valuable antique, or a paint-ing by some celebrated artist, the com-petition for possession becomes keen, andthe uninitiated crowd arc amazed to see acabinet, or an oil painting, sell for as manypounds as they expected it would bringpence. 2 b


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8 BITS FROftiAt one of these house sales I discovered

in a bedroom a poor, forlorn cat. No onewould have thought of offering grimalkinfor sale, but maj^be she had been thefondled pet of some child, and herneglected aspect and frightened look wastouching. I have seen birds in cages,cocks and hens, dogs, and even a petmonkey, disposed of by auction.The auctioneer is usually the mostgood-natured of men ; he keeps his com-pany in the best of humour by his jokeshe never vents his wit at the expense ofhis customers, but the things he sells areobjects of humorous remarks.A tall, silent old man used to attendvery regularly the house sales in Edin-burgh. He never bought anything butbooks, and yet he was able to make alivelihood in his peculiar line. He soldhis purchases to the various booksellers,and knew from experience the class ofbooks each man gave the best prices for.He lived all alone in a rented room ; con-stantly complained of poverty, but afterhis death a sum of two hundred poundswas found to be at his credit in the sav-ings bank. Another man, an Irishman,with a good knowledge of books andprints, used to haunt house sales, but hedrank the profits of his purchases.

For over twenty years now I have,attended sales of all kinds in search ofbooks. There is a certain indescribable


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 29fascination in these auctions, and a plea-surable excitement in attending them.An old gentleman, a personal friend ofmy own, has been a sale attender of overfifty years' experience. He is as keen ahunter after rare prints and curious knick-knacks as ever.Wherever the red flag flutters it is fol-

lowed by a company of nondescripts whoare not admitted into the premises. Theseare unauthorised porters, or men out ofwork, who hope to get a job from thosewho purchase goods. Thus the red flag,though it is to many the sign of bank-ruptcy, of death, or of deep trial, is awelcome sight to the auctioneer, thebroker, the bargain-hunter, and the hard-up jobbing porter.


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IV.LOVEtfS OF BOOKS.

The pleasure derived from collecting booksis a pleasure that never palls ; a joy forever. Once a lover always a lover, is atrue saying when applied to a lover ofbooks. As old age draws near, the manwho has found his delight in athletic sportsis unable to indulge his taste, but the loverof books can find a solace and joy in thecompanionship of his silent friends whichincrease as the years go round.The spiritual and intellectual life ofsome men is at its ripest and best whenthe physical strength is declining. Whata comfort in old age it must be to havean cxhaustless treasury of the best andhighest life of all ages to fall back onto have pleasures to enjoy, and work toperform, which can be enjoyed and per-formed even when the sands of earthlylife are running short. It is one of themost pleasing of life's experience to meetwith a happy old mansome of the hap-piest grand old men I have known havebeen book collectors.

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BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOI\ 31It is a well-known fact that in many

cases when a man engaged in some busi-ness all his life suddenly gives up hiswork and retires to enjoy his old age thechange kills him. He has nothing to fallback on, no resource within himself. Hohas ceased to make money, to buy andsell ; he has no other interest in life, anddies from sheer ennui. But the manwhose mind is enriched with knowledge,who loves books, who delights in collect-ing rare editions or choice prints, needhave no fear of such a fate ; he may retirefrom active business at any time, and stillin his retirement be as happy and busy asever.One of the most kindly and gentle oldmen I ever knew was for years a fre-

quenter of the old book shop. His was awell-known figure in Edinburgh ; in allparts and out-of-the-way corners of the cityhe was to be met. There was generally anattraction in the form of a rare book orold print drawing him to some bye streetor obscure broker's shop. From himI gained much valuable knowledge asto the value of books, and as to the reasonswhy certain editions were more prizedthan others.He had accumulated a most interestingcollection of books of local histoiy, ofrarieties connected with Mary Queen ofScots, and of Shakespearian literature.Collecting book plates was his chief


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32 BITS FROMhobby. By the way, the term " bookplate " is rather ambiguous ; " ex libris "is even more so. The proper word to usewhen describing the label or plate whichthe owner of a library pastes on each bookhe possesses has not been coined. "Bookplate" might mean a plate or engravinginserted in a book to illustrate the con-tents, as well as a plate bearing theowner's name. Some early book platesare artistically beautiful, others ugly,though the ugly ones may possess valuefrom being historically interesting. Myold friend possessed many rare datedplates, and several with ladies' names onthem. Ladies' book plates are uncommon,thus showing that the collecting of bookshas seldom been a hobby of the gentlersex. Though ladies write many booksnowadays, they have been spoken of asbeing amongst the enemies of books, in sofar that they do their best to keep theirhusbands from buj'ing them.An old gentleman used to delight myheart every time he came to the bookshop. He was possessed with a mightypassion for literature, an unquenchabledesire to possess books. One had but toshow him a book to make him wish tobuy it. He was a customer such as thesoul of an old bookseller loveth. Theonly thing that kept him from beinghopelessly given up to the bibliomaniac'sfever was the fact that he possessed a wife


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 33who hated musty old books. He used toadopt all kinds of subterfuges to get thebooks he purchased home, and placed onhis shelves unknown to his better half.If the volumes were too bulky or toomany to be stowed away in his capaciouspockets, he used to arrange to have theparcels delivered at a stated hour whenhe knew his wife would be out, sometimesvery early in the morning before shewas up.A most desirable and delightful cus-tomer was a gentleman who went on pur-chasing largely from year to year. Hewas a splendid buyer, was ever adding tohis collection, yet his library never seemedto grow larger, and he always had enoughroom on his shelves for his fresh pur-chases. At the end of each year heseemed to possess the same number ofbooks, in face of all his additions. Thesecret was that every spring when thehouse underwent the annual cleaning, hiswife weeded out from the library shelvesall the most dilapidated volumes, and soldthem to some enterprising dealer un-known to her husband.One cannot have much sympathy withthe man who collects books merely be-

cause of their monetary value. He mayhave no appreciation of the beauty of thecontents of the volumes he possesses, maynever have read them, or thought of read-ing them, may be entirely ignorant of the


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34 BITS FROMreal reason why certain books are of value,and yet he may know to a penn}^ howmuch this edition or that copy of a scarcebook would bring at an auction sale.When such a man hears that a certainearly Avork of, say, Robert Louis Steven-son has brought a high price at a sale,he greatly desires to possess a copy. Hemay have no wish to read the book or totreasure it as a memento of a favouriteauthor, but he searches high and lowthrough the book stalls or shops for therarity, simply because it has fetched ahigh price in the auction saloon. Whenhe finds the treasure how he gloats overhis prize. He may have secured it atsome obscure shop for as many shillingsas it is worth guineas. "When he showshis friends his library he tells them withpride the ridiculously low prices he hasgiven for each item.A true lover of books thinks little ofthe monetary value ; he treasures a volumebecause of its contents, or values it becauseof some association or memory connectedwith the author.The pleasure to be derived from pokingabout an old book shop is like drinkingfrom a well whose waters are ever bub-bling forth pure and cool. Every timeono visits the place there is some freshvolume added, some now treasure to beexamined, some interesting theme to talkabout with the bookseller. Even if there


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 35bo no new books, are not the old ones likedear friends ever waiting to be looked at ?There is a delight in just being in thepresence of old books ; one feels at homein the best society \ the smell of the oldleather binding is good, the homely honestletterpress is better, but the carryingaway in one's pocket the volume as one'svery own is best of all.


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V.THE AMENITIES OF BOOK-BUYING.

There are three classes of book-buyersthe book dealer, who buys books to sellagain at a profit ; the bibliomaniac, whoaccumulates books for the pleasure ofpossession ; and the book lover, who buysthem because of their contents, theirbeauty, and the associations connectedwith them.The second-hand bookseller purchases

his stock either by private bargain or atpublic auction sales. An amateur attend-ing an auction sale usually pays more forhis literature than he would have donehad he patronised a bookseller. Astranger wandering into a sale-room seesbooks being knocked down cheap, andwhen a work he desires is put up hebegins to bid, and bids, and bids in hiseagerness, until the book is knocked downto him at a pretty stiff price.A wealthy newspaper proprietor, wish-ing to purchase some books from a librarywhich was being dispersed under thehammer, sent one of his clerks to pur-36


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BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 37chase. The man had orders to buywithout any limit as to price. The book-sellers at the sale got to know his instruc-tions, and in what was perhaps rather amalicious spirit, they bade against the manuntil the books mounted up to prices farbeyond their real value.One may have noticed in the news-papers advertisements by booksellersoffering to buy old books. An advertise-ment of this type attracts the attention oftidy housewives, who have a lot of dustyold volumes knocking about their houses ;or of hard-up individuals who have booksthat they wish to turn into money, and itis by means of these advertisements thedealer gets part of his stock. In thespring of the year, when people are clean-ing up, or at the removal terms, a greatmany old books are cleared out of houses.The majority of these ancient tomes areof little value, but now and then atreasure turns up when least expected.There is a delightful uncertainty in

buying old books. Every dealer lives inthe hope that he may pick up a fortunesome day ; and the little prizes he nowand again secures give a fascinating zestto his pursuit.When a man has been out of work forsome time, and tries to sell his littlelibrary, he is often sadly disappointed.He may, in the days when money wasplentiful, have purchased a "Family


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38 BITS FROMBible" on the instalment system, andhave paid three or four pounds for it."When his children are crying for food hethinks on the "hig ha' Bible," and re-luctantly sends his wife with it to thebookseller, who advertises and offers highprices. If the dealer has a heai't at all,he must be touched when the poor woman,heavy-hearted, sad-eyed, and wear}' withher fight against poverty, lays down onhis counter the precious volume, carefullywrapped up in a newspaper, or maybe tiedin a red handkerchief. What must shethink when she is offered five or sixshillings for the "Family Bible," whichcost her husband nearly as many guineas ]She tries other shops, and, unused tofacing thus a hard world, she loses heart,and as a last resource, in her sore distressand need of money, she leaves the bookwith a pawnbroker, receiving maybe justwhat the bookseller offered.When times are bad, the pawnshops arelumbered with "Family Bibles," books of

devotion, cyclopaedias, and other showyworks of the class sold to working peopleon the weekly or monthly paymentsystem.A bookseller who advertises for booksin tho public prints has curious and variedexperiences in his search for stock. He isasked to call at houses of every class, fromslum dwellings to stately palaces. Hemay be taken down to a dark cellar to


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 39inspect a collection of books, or up manyflights of stairs to the attic rooms. Veryfrequently the little library is laid out ina bedroom. I have even known valuableliterary treasures to be packed like applesin a barrel, and put out of the way in astable. I remember once calling at a housewhere there were only an antiquated ladyand a dog present. The lady and I couldnot come to terms, and as soon as the dog(who had listened to our conversation)knew from our tones that we could notagree, it made a sudden attack on mylegs, and chased me out of the house.

I was once asked to inspect a lot ofbooks in Calton Jail ; at another time Iremoved a small library from Nelson'sMonument. The other day I bought twolorry loads of books from a stable in theGrassmarket. Many years ago I pur-chased a library in a country house, andspent the day packing about fifty bags.As the dinner hour drew near, I heardfrom the kitchen the appetising soundof culinary preparations, and sniffed thedelicious aroma of roast beef. Soon asmiling maid appeared and laid on a littletable for my dinner a glass of milk, somebread and butter, and a bit of cheese.One finds it, as a rule, dilticnlt to suc-cessfully negotiate for the purchase of thelibraries of deceased clergymen. Pro-digious has been the number and size ofbooks written about the Bible. How


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40 BITS FROMnumerous have been the divines fromCalvin to Spurgeon who have compiledcommentaries, concordances, and helps forstudents of the Book. Every new writerbuilds his edifice of theological learningon the work of the earlier author, andthus the old books are superseded andrendered valueless by the new. We livein an age when men desire to get at theroot, to know the reason, the why and thewherefore of every matter ; yet, in face ofall, the Bible stands alone the Book ofbooks, which, like a pure gem, the morerubbing it gets the brighter it shines.Sermons and religious memoirs help to fillup the ministers' book shelves, and unlessthe books are pretty modern, the book-seller is not able to offer much for thelibrary.

It seems heartless and unfeeling to seethe haste with which some relatives dis-pose, after a book lover's death, of hislibrary. The books may have been theaccumulation of a lifetime, every volumemay have its story, and yet as soon asthe busy brain is still his treasures arescattered to the four winds by the auc-tioneer's hammer. I remember a case ofa book lover who had devoted years tocollecting a charming library of out-of-the-way books, which library was packed inboxes and removed to a public sale-roomthe day after the gentleman was buried.Tons of old books are sent to the


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 41wastepaper stores every year. They areabsolutely valueless as literature. Thesewaste books are stripped of their covers,and are either re-made into paper in thiscountry, or sent to the United States,where they are re-manufactured into allkinds of things, from carriage wheels topicture frames.What are called " knock-out " sales aresometimes carried out by the trade. Theplan is illegal, dishonest, and selfish. Thebooksellers, previous to the sale, agreeamone: themselves not to outbid eachother, but to manage so that no one out-side the charmed circle will get a bookunder its value. After the sale is overthe conspirators adjourn to a room insome hotel, and the books are re-sold tothe highest bidder in the company, andthe profits divided.One is surprised how, sometimes, themost uncommon books are found in themost unexpected places. A booksellerthrough time becomes possessed of anuncanny instinct, which enables him toknow when books worth buying are in acollection.

Constantly buying and selling old booksfor a long period of years must affect aman's character for good or ill. For illif one allows the narrowing influence ofavaricious greed to hold sway, or if onelooks on books as being mere machines formoney-making.


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42 BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP.The influence of dealing in books may

and should be all for good in helping toennoble the character of the bookseller.It is invariably the best kind of peoplewho buy books and who have them to sell.Holding converse day by day with menand women of a literary temperament,habitually handling, thinking about, talk-ing about, and dipping into books musthelp to mould one's character in thehighest and best sense.


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VI.THE VALUE OF OLD BOOKS.The absolute commercial value of oldbooks is a detail which no one cancorrectly arrive at. Boohs about booksare innumerable, but no work in anynumber of volumes has yet been pub-lished, or indeed can be, giving the correctvalue of every old book in existence. Noman, however long his experience amongstbooks, can tell even the approximate valueof more than a limited number. Theprices of the rarer items vary constantlyat sales ; the fashions and fads of collec-tors change, and a second-hand bookseller'scatalogue is at best a misleading guide.The value of well-known but rare

literary treasures increases every year.For this increase in value we owe muchto the American millionaire. Money, themillionaire argues, can bring him any-thing he desires. If his ambition is tofound a library of valuable books, hesends orders to his London or Edinburghagents to buy at any price. If two orthree millionaires are in search of the43


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44 BITS FROMsame rarity it is no mystery to understandhow a book, which fifty years ago broughttens of pounds now realises hundreds.

Old books in general do not increase invalue, certainly they increase in weight,and when the dust of ages settles on themone's chief desire is to get rid of them.The popular idea that if a book is over ahundred years of age it must be of valueis a fallacy. A Bible, before it becomes aprize to the connoisseur, must have beenin existence for at least four centuries.Age alone is no criterion of value. Acopy of "Waverley," by Sir Walter Scott,3 vols., boards, published 1814, was sold inLondon in 1892 for 162. At the GibsonCraig library sale in 1888, an uncut copyof the same book brought only 10 guineas.A little book by Charles Lamb, "PrinceDorus," a story for children, containingnine coloured plates, published for oneshilling and sixpence in 1811, realisedG2 at the Northampton library sale. Acopy of Fitzgerald's translation of OmarKhayyam, 1859, which was at one timepicked up in Quaritch's 2d box, was soldin 1902 to Mr Quaritch himself for 58.

These are a few of the many nineteenthcentury first editions of books which arevalued and prized by collectors. A fullercatalogue would be but dry reading, andoutside the limits of "Bits." Of firsteditions of modern authors most desiredcme must include Shelley, Keats, Scott,


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 45Lamb, Meredith, Byron, Wordsworth,Teniryson, Stevenson, Dickens, andThackeray. Even a copy of such arecent novel as Blackmorc's " LornaDoonc," 3 vois., 1869, was in 1900 soldfor 37.

There must be many copies of valuablefirst editions of the more recent literarymasters in existence. Owners of libraries,however small, should make note of anytreasures of that kind they may possess.A plan which adds interest to a book isto insert a written bibliography. Thepractice of writing on the fly-leaf is notcommendable, but an extra sheet of papercan be put in without injury to thevolume.The highest price ever paid under thehammer for a book in this country was4,950 for the Fust and Schoeffer Psalter,printed on vellum, 1459. The celebratedMazarin Bible on vellum brought 4,000.A copy of the same book on paper, beingthe first book printed with moveable tj'pes,sold for 3900. At the Koxburghe sale,1812, the famous "Decameron" of Val-darfer held the then record price of 22G0.The highest price obtained for a book in1902 was 2225, for a copy of a Caxton," The liyal Book," folio, original oakenboards, stamped leather. These firstprinted English books have no date ontitle page. "The Ryal Book" was circu-lated about 1487. These prices are the


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46 BITS FROMfive highest record sums for which bookshave been sold by auction in London.The first folio edition of Shakespeare's

works was published in 1G23. The bestprice obtained was 1720 in 1901. Thiscopy, bound in morocco by Bedford, isnow domiciled in the Scribner Library,New York. About 600 copies of the firstfolio were printed at the price of 1. Acopy was sold in 1756 for three guineas,in 1787 for 10, in 1807 for thirty-fourguineas, and resold at the Roxburgh e sale,1812, for 100.The first book printed in Gaelic was" The Book of Common Order," edited byJohn Knox and rendered into Gaelic byJ. Carswell, printed by R. Lekpreuik,Edinburgh, 1567. A slightly defectivecopy of this very rare book, bound in oldScotch morocco, sold in 1902 for 500.

These early printed pearls which thewaves of time have spared us, are thingsto be read about and longed for, butseldom if ever seen. The ordinary manhas to be content with fac-simile reproduc-tions. Only the "upper ten" in the worldof booksellers can ever hope to buy andsell treasures worth many times theirweight in gold. There is, however, apleasure in knowing even a little aboutthese princely volumes, in thinking aboutthem, writing about them, talking aboutthem. The spell of antiquity, the charmof rarity, the zest of monetary value, and


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 47the mysterious fascination which pertainsto literature, all combine to give a satisfy-ing delight to the student in bibliographicallore.Few books have given so much pleasureand gone through so many editions as" The Complcat Angler," by Isaac Walton.The first edition, 12mo, 1653, published atIs 6d, sold in 1896 for 415.A lady asked in a bookseller's shop oneclay for a copy of " Iiobinson Crusoe." Nodoubt she got the book for a shilling, butshe would have thought the booksellermad if he had produced a copy of thethree volume first edition, dated 1719-20,and asked for it 206, which was theamount realised at a sale.In 1786 an Ayrshire ploughman pub-lished by subscription in Kilmarnock, atthe modest price of three shillings, acollection of original poems. The bookwas 8vo size (9 inches by 6), in plain, un-attractive paper covered boards. I shallnever forget the day in 1898, when, in asaloon crowded with representative book-sellers and Burns enthusiasts, Mr Dowell,the venerable Edinburgh auctioneer, heldup an absolutely perfect uncut copy of"Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect,by Kobert Burns; Kilmarnock, 1786." Thebids rapidly went up from 50, until at500 there were only two competitorsleft. At last it was knocked down with aburst of applause to Mr Sabine, a London


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48 BITS FROMbookseller, for 545 guineas. This verycopy changed hands in 1870 for 8 10s,and again for 60 in 1880.

Only two perfect copies of the "Kil-marnock Burns" are known to be inexistence. The second copy is now in theBurns' Cottage Museum, Ayr. It waspurchased in July 1903 from G. S. Veitch,Esq., Paisley, for 1000.

Sometimes books obtain an inflatedvalue on account of extraneous matter notoriginally in them, such as autographs,MS. notes, book-plates, or prints. Bookswhich have originally been in possessionof literary and other celebrities have anadded value because of their associations.

There are connoisseurs who devote theirattention specially to the collection of illus-trated books with woodcuts by Bewick,plates by Cruickshank, Rowlandson, andothers. Many very fine works were issuedwith engravings and hand-coloured platesat the end of the eighteenth and early inthe nineteenth centuries. These are all ofconsiderable value, and are increasing inrarity. "The Sporting Magazine," withplates, in sets of about 155 vols., is worth2 per vol.

William Blake's " Songs of Innocenceand of Experience," 8vo, 1789-94, with 54illustrations, sold 1902 for 216. Thebeauty and age of the binding of a bookgreatly enhance its value. It is quite astudy in itself to be able to appreciate the


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 49fine points and the exquisite loveliness ofthe bindings of old books.One can only touch on the fringe of amost alluring hobby when one venturesto talk about the value of books. Thereare so many different kinds of collectors,and an infinite variety of items to dis-course upon. Take the collecting of booksfor children. Some of the early produc-tions intended for juveniles are quaint andinteresting. The illustrations, if ugly,are at least graphic, and tell their storyplainly. All books for children whichhave survived for a century are of interestand value. Amongst minor books veryearly school books arc always worth pre-serving, but they must be early to be ofvalue.Dr Watts, the author of "Let dogsdelight to bark and bite," issued his"Divine Songs" in 1715, a copy of whichwas lately sold for 155. The firsteditions of " Alice in Wonderland " and"Alice through the Looking-Glass " arevaluable, and as time passes will becomemore so.

It is pleasant and good to know that to-day, when the output of new books seemsunlimited, we value and love and appreciatein a fuller and deeper degree than everthe memories of, and the books writtenby, the men and women who gifted toEnglish literature the immortal fruits oftheir genius.


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VII.THE GENTLE ART OF BOOKHUNTING.

In all ages the greatest, best, and mostlovable men have been lovers of books.All who own to the gentle thraldom ofthe influence of old books can claim kin-ship with many great spirits of the past,and nearer our own times with suchcharming souls as Charles Lamb, ThomasDe Quincey, Sir Walter Scott, John HillBurton, and William Ewart Gladstone.

Every true book lover desires to be thepossessor of the books he loves. As yearsgo by he adds ever fresh favourites to hiscollection, and every book added is a newsource of delight. The pleasure of havinga library of one's very own, howeversmall that library may be, is a pleasurepure and unallo}Ted.The lover of flowers finds keen delightin preparing the ground, sowing the seeds,and tending the young plants long ere hislabours have found fruition in the lovelycolours of the rose or hyacinth ; and thelover of books has rare joy in pokingabout amongst the old bookshops, think-

so


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BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 51ing about and searching for the books ofhis choice, long before his labour has beencrowned with the purchase and study ofthe desired volumes. One may have adesire to add, say, a Moxon edition ofKeats or some choice Pickering to hislibrary, and may spend many happy daysin many a nook and corner before onereally carries the volume home intriumph.

Half the pleasure would be gone fromthe art of book hunting if one had nothingto do but simply order one's agent to pro-cure the special books and editions onerequired. The pleasure consists in theuncertainty about being able to obtainwhat one wants : the difficulties to beovercome lend added spice to the pursuit.When a volume is purchased at the ex-pense of some indulgence, how preciousthe book becomes.

Those who make a hobby of collectingand preserving anything that is curiousand interesting are worthy of praise. Thedesire to collect begins when, as children,we hoard buttons, beads, or marbles, andas children of a larger growth wo collectpicture postcards or postage stamps. "Wehave collectors of book plates, china, quaintfurniture, church tokens, engravings, anti-quities, pictures, clocks, guns, swords,antique silver, old keys, miniature por-traits, violins, and curios of every kind.The collector of books is, we think, the2C


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52 BITS FROMprince of all collectors. His work is awork which never can be completed, hiscollection can never be perfected : andthe delights of collecting books can beindulged in by almost anyone.Some book hunters devote their ener-gies to the collection of books of a specialclass. The "first edition" enthusiast iswell known. No other edition of anauthor's works is considered worthy of aplace in this hobby rider's library. Heknows every detail as to date, illustra-tions, number of pages, and size of an" editio princeps." His keenest joy is tohunt in out-of-the-way and unlikely placesand pick up for pence the volumes heknows are worth pounds. Privatelyprinted books are collected by some.When the author's name is inscribed onthe book, the owner has a twofold reasonfor congratulation.A customer I know has managed tocollect over five hundred volumes on thesubject of angling. He has three timesthat number to hunt up before he is thehappy owner of every work on the subjectpublished. One would think that bookson arithmetic would not hold supremesway over a collector's ambition, but Iremember an old gentleman who, everytime he came to the shop, asked if I hadanything new in his line, and his line wasalways "arithmetic." Locally printedbooks are also much prized. One man


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 53may have Dundee on his brain, anotherBirmingham, or York, or Kirkcaldy, andbe ever on the hunt for books printed orpublished in his favoured town.

I knew a gentleman who was perpetu-ally looking out for poets. He would notlook at such common poets as Longfellow,Wordsworth, Tennyson, or Byron. Poetswho are found "in every gentleman'slibrary " were absent from my friend thepoet hunter's shelves. There was, how-ever, scarcely a minor poet who did notfind an honoured resting-place in his col-lection. One might look in vain in bookson English Literature for the names ofthe poets whose productions he prized.The very fact of their having been for-gotten, and overshadowed by the popularauthors, gave them in his eyes a uniquevalue and importance.The collector of works on occult scienceis usually one who himself believes inspiritualism. Some collectors do not readthe books they gather together with somuch labour, but the pryer into thehidden things of the past and future isa student who eagerly reads everythinghe can get treating on the wonders andmysteries that lie behind the sheath ofthis flesh. A believer in spiritualism isslow to speak, on subjects so dear to hisinner self, to an unbeliever ; but if he seesthat one approaches the unknown with aspirit of inquiry and sympathy, he will


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54 BITS FROMconfide in you, and give you a glimpseinto a region strange and weird andwonderful ; where, amidst much that isvague and delusive, one sees and hearsthings which no man can explain.A well-known Edinburgh bookseller hasbeen for many years collecting books onhymnology. He is now recognised as anauthority on this most interesting andimportant subject.A bookseller in Peterhead has a splen-did collection of old ballad literature, and

has gathered together a unique and valu-able collection of editions of the Psalter.The "duodecimo" collector is he whobuys only the smallest editions. Many ofthe Greek and Latin classics were issuedin the choicest of daintily-bound vellumvolumes. Old French and Italian works,with quaint illustrations and charmingbindings, are to be found in tiny editions.In English we have Pickering's diamondclassics, and the reprints of Dove, Con-stable, and others. The love for " wee "books has gained fresh impetus by theissue of popular works printed on Indiapaper, and such editions as The "World'sClassics, The Century Library, The TempleClassics, minister to the taste for minia-ture libraries.The usual crown 8vo book is, however,

the favourite size of volume, the large,cumbersome folio of the Elizabethan andlater periods having almost become ex-


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 55tinct. Books are seldom published infolio now, unless they contain illustra-tions which require special size. Theancient folio volumes of sermons boundin everlasting leather are becoming rarer,in libraries as well as in book shops, buttheir rarity seldom increases their value.The interest connected with books is so

many-sided that it appeals to well nighevery class of men. There are collectorsof nearly as many varieties as there aretypes of humanity. Chess and golf haveeach their devotees, who collect everybook they can find on their favouritepastime. Golf has its crack players, butit also has its poets ; as for chess anddraughts, there exists quite a library ofbooks on the art of playing these games,and of printed records of the many battlesfought by past masters on the board.The gentle art of book hunting is anart well worth learning. Some say thatthe pleasure enjoyed by the angler is notso much the joy of catching fish, as thedelight of wandering amidst lovely scenery,and breathing the fresh ozone of the coun-try. Is it not equally true that the bookhunter finds his sweetest happiness whilelooking for the books he desires, eventhough he never finds them'?


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VIII.UNDER THE HAMMER.

One of the most interesting places in alarge city is the interior of the premiseswhere the auctioneer's hammer holdssway. Drawn to one of the rooms hythe clear voice of the salesman, and thetap ! tap ! ! of the hammer, one finds thata sale of a very special kind is in progress.There is a pungent smell of spirits in theroom, and an array of bottles behind therostrum, which show that wines, whiskiesand brandies are being disposed of.

Little glasses are being handed round,containing samples of the lot to be sold,and quite an air of festive enjoyment isin the place. The company assembledseem to be of a comfortable well-to-doclass ; indeed, judging from the gloss ontheir hats, their finger rings and watchchains, there may be millionaires amongstthem. Clarets, burgundies, ports, cham-pagnes and rare old whiskies arc disposedof at so much per dozen, and as samplebottles of each new blend is opened, eagerhands are held out to the attendants for ataste. 00


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BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 57How some of the worthies manage to

sample, say, a dozen varieties, includingsome rare vintage of Burgundy, a Taliskerblend of whisky, and a Benedictine orChartreuse liqueur, without ill effectsseems wonderful. The real buyers evid-ently know the blends and qualities ofthe goods, for they scarcely taste them,and those who sample must give a bidnow and again to keep up appearances.A sale of books may be going on inanother saloon at the same time as the

wines are being sold. Here the atmo-sphere, instead of being permeated withthe spirit of wines, has the musty odourof ancient leather. The devotees whohave come to the literary shrine are quitea contrast to the worshippers of Bacchusin the adjoining room. The book loversmay not have the well-fed jovial form ofthe epicures, but they show more varietyof individuality. At a book sale somequaint and interesting characters are tobe met. Retired shopkeepers troubledwith the book-accumulating hobby, book-sellers,young, middle-aged, and anti-quated,divinity students, poets, literarymen, elbow each other, all drawn, as mothsto a candle, to the silent casquets of men'sbrains called books.

There is an odd, old-world individualwho never misses a book sale. He knowseverybody, speaks to everybody, shakeshands with everybody, cracks puns and


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58 BITS FROMjokes with everybody, and offers every-body a pinch of snuff. Literary peopleare, as a rule, undemonstrative, and arenot over-robust in appearance ; but thislittle man is as unlike the ideal book salehaunter as Princes Street is unlike theCanongate. He has a round, ruddy, moonface, graced with an everlastingly good-natured smile, and is attired in a roughsuit of light tweeds.Another character attends every booksale, but never buys a book or makes a

bid. He takes an intense interest in allthat is going on, knows a bargain, andsarcastically congratulates the fortunatedealer who secures a book under its value.He interrupts the auctioneer at all timeswith audible remarks, and constantly mixeshimself up with matters with which he hasno personal interest.The man who detects imperfections in

books is also sure to be present. Hewaits until a valuable work is offered forsale, and just as the auctioneer raises thehammer, he points out, with a peculiarlyrasping voice, that a certain plate is foxed,or that the book is faulty. Anotherworthy has an original way of makinga bid. He just opens and shuts hismouth by way of assent. Many andvaried are the devices resorted to by'cute dealers to keep their brothers inthe trade from thinking they are bidding.A wink of the eye, a facile twitch, a


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 59movement of a finger, are enough for theauctioneer.Long practice makes a man as sharp asa needle in detecting a bargain, and oftenmen with very little real literary taste orculture make most successful booksellers.It is not necessary for a bookseller toknow very much about the literary meritsof the books he sells. He may never haveread a line of Buskin, and yet be able totell the money value of every edition ofhis works. Charles Dickens, the immortalstory-teller, may be to him only CharlesDickens, the author of certain books, theearly editions of which bring princelyprices. A bookseller of this type, whohas no love or taste for literature, is likea man who buys and sells houses and caresnothing for the living men and womenwho inhabit them. The binding, theillustrations, the date, the mechanicalpeculiarities, and the commercial value ofthe books are the only things that interesthim ; he knows nothing and cares nothingfor the immortal soul which lives andbreathes in the pages of the book hehandles so lightly.

Clergymen, from the nature of theirprofession, are attracted by books, andat every book sale one or two parsons areusually present. One day a well-fed,happy-faced, mild-looking ,reverend gentle-man entered the saleroom, and, taking aseat, looked around with much interest.


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60 BITS FROMHe was evidently a country clergyman,and had been drawn to the sale more fromcuriosity than from any intention of pur-chasing. He was one of those old-worldmen who have an exaggerated idea as to thevalue of books. He had a great love for thePuritan divines, and held such worthies asOwen, Baxter, and Boston in high esteem.The books being sold were theological,and he felt amazed when he saw some ofhis favourite authors being sold at whatseemed to him ridiculously low prices.He got quite excited and began to bid.A huge folio set of Tillotson's Works wasknocked down at his bid, and he had thevolumes placed on a seat beside him.Next, Boston's "Body of Divinity," inthree volumes, was purchased, and placedon top of Tillotson. By the time a set oftwenty octavo volumes of reprints of olddivines was added to his store, he had gotinto the spirit of the thing, and becamean eager and reckless bidder. He wouldnot let a bargain pass him, and when, atthe close of the sale, he had come to hissenses, and stood beside a great pile ofbooks with his account in his hand and anempty purse, he looked very unlike thetrim, jolly parson who had entered thatroom two hours before.Now and again a lady appears at abook sale, but she is shy and seldom bids.The presence of so many men with theirhats on seems to subdue her.


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 61As the auctioneer sells each lot he calls

out the number and names the book ; nowand again he comes across a word whichhe evidently cannot pronounce, when hequietly overcomes the ditliculty by nam-ing the number only. Some auctioneersare quite proud of their French pronun-ciation, but they stick at the German.At a book sale one day a Bible was putup, the intrinsic value of which was notover 10s. There must have been a his-tory connected with that Bible, for therewere two ladies present, each desiringvery much to become its possessor. Thebids began at a few shillings and wentgradually up to 10. There were onlythe two competitors. From the expres-sion on the faces of the two ladies, it wasevident that there would be a bitterstruggle for the precious volume, but thespectators were not prepared for such astrange exhibition of personal spite ordetermination as that which followed.To the amazement of the auctioneer, aswell as audience, the price went quicklyup to 100, but neither lady would yield ;and at last, the bids being slower andmore reluctantly given, the Bible wasknocked down to one of the ladies for200. Who could understand the feel-ings of those women, or know what wasthe secret family skeleton which promptedsuch seeming foolishness 1At the end of each day's sale there is


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62 BITS FROMusually a large quantity of books sold inlots. These are not considered sufficientlyvaluable for separate cataloguing, butsometimes prizes are to be picked upamongst them. A sixteenth century bookon old lace was purchased in 1893amongst one of these lots for 6s, andafterwards sold to Mr Quaritch of Londonfor 36.At a book sale, a youth who was cleverwith his pen bought for a shilling a smalllot, amongst which was a volume on theplough, published in 1785. On the fly-leaf he wrote an exact facsimile of theautograph of Robert Burns, poet, andsold the book to a bookseller for onepound. The volume appeared later inthe dealer's catalogue as a Burns relic,price 10. Where is the precious raritynow 1

In these job lots the mixture is some-times very curious. In one lot I boughta little work called " White on Bakingalong with another volume entitled" Bread from Heaven." A novel, such as"Jack Sheppard," may be tied up withthe "Pilgrim's Progress " or the "AnxiousEnquirer." Sometimes one finds a collec-tion of penny novelettes along with a lotof Spurgeon's Sermons, and yellow-backednovels side by side with black-coatedbooks on theology.When looking over a sale catalogueone wonders if all the books contained in


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 63it will find purchasersthe variety is soinfinite, and some of the books seem soworthless. Yet at every book sale everybook finds some one waiting to buy it.One of the peculiarities of these sales isthat every one who buys a book congratu-lates himself on the fact that he has got abargain. I do not refer to booksellersthey never buy unless they get bargainsbut I mean the general public. A mannever owns that he has paid too high fora bookit would be casting a slur on hisjudgmentbut whatever the price mayhave been, he shows his treasure to hisfriends, and boasts how cheap he got it.An hour or two spent in an auctionsaloon is time well spent. There lies aninterest in everything that is being sold,whether the goods be cigars, whiskies,pictures, furniture, antiquities, or books,and the student of mankind can find nobetter field wherein to follow his favouritehobby.


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IX.THE IDEAL BOOKSELLER.

If one's environment and daily occupa-tion have an influence on one's character,the man who buys and sells books shouldin the nature of things reflect in his lifethe atmosphere of the world of literatureby which he is surrounded. Meeting withall sorts and conditions of men and womenin search for diverse varieties of books, hemust needs be a many-sided man, able toconverse on every topic that turns up,from the choice of a picture book for alittle child to recommending a volume ofsermons to a budding divine.A bookseller is the custodian and dis-penser of that which is more preciousthan silver or gold. The food he distri-butes goes not to the building up of men'sbodies, but provides for the nurture of themind and the formation of the immortalsoul. The commodities sold by othermerchants serve but for the needs of thischanging life, but undying thoughts ingreat books are for all etcrnitj^. Whatkind of a man, then, should he be whose

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BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP. G5daily business life is passed in buying andselling such treasures 1The ideal bookseller requires to be asort of all-round man, not too much de-voted to any one fad or science, but pos-sessed of a knowledge and love of all.He must not be too great a lover of books,else he would buy, but never sell. Aman of a strong theological cast of mind,who was a " stickit minister," oncestarted as a bookseller. He filled his shopwith tomes of ancient theology and vol-umes of leather-bound sermons, and satdown to wait for customers. He was fora while quite happy, reading instead ofselling his stock. He was annoyed bypeople coming into his shop, asking forsuch books as " Maria Monk," "TheImperial Dream Book," " The Com-plete Letter Writer," "Lady Lovesick'sChoice," or "Buffalo Bill's Life," andwhen he politely recommended "Blair'sSermons " or " Angel James' Guide toImmortality," his would-be customerssmiled and walked away. He was afailure as a bookseller.A bookseller, who was far from being" ideal," named Don Vincente, had a shopin Barcelona fifty years ago. His love forbooks became madness of a most extra-ordinary and terrible kind. When hesold a rare manuscript or book, he fol-lowed his customer and secretly stabbedhim to death. He never took money


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66 BITS FROMfrom his victims, but murdered them forthe sole purpose of regaining the bookshe had so recently sold.

I knew a bookseller who was alwaysvery despondent, and, indeed, almostcried whenever he had sold a rare book.I have known him take a volume whichhe prized home, and sleep with it underhis pillow. His, however, was a gentle andharmless bibliomania compared to the hor-rible madness of the Spanish bookseller.A bookseller may write poetry, but apoet whose soul is given up wholly to themuse makes a poor bookseller. Imaginethe poet bookseller at his desk writing"Verses to Her I Love," or "A Sonnet tothe Moon," interrupted by a boy askingfor "Deadwood Dick, the Daring Detec-tive's " latest ; or conceive him having todescend from the lofty heights of Parnas-sus to sell a twopenny bundle of oldmagazines. Alas for the unfortunatepoet who must needs earn his livelihoodby selling books. Think of a geniuswhen the poetic frenzy comes over him,when the spirits of Shakespeare and Burnsinspire him to walk about his shop, recit-ing aloud his poems to an unsympatheticcustomer, who asks not for poetry but fora second-hand copy of Adam Smith's"Wealth of Nations."

Robert Nichol, the Scottish poet, whodied before he was thirty, tried book-selling, but was a failure. Indeed, if he


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. G7had succeeded as a bookseller, he wouldhave had to kill the poet, and change hisnature. He was a lover of books and ofliterature, but it needs more than that tosucceed as a bookseller. One must ofnecessity bo a lover of hard cash as well.Think of the young poet Robert Nicholin his book shop in Perth. He had alending library, and we may be sure itcontained copies of the poets which no oneasked for. Is there not something path-etic in the thought of the writer of im-mortal poems being engaged day by dayselling newspapers or weekly Londonjournals, dealing out pennyworths oftrashy literature or lending novels at apenny a night 1In "Tho Scots' Magazine," 1803, just acentury ago, a letter appears on the"Edinburgh Booksellers." The writerhad tried half-a-dozen shops for a newbook but failed to obtain it, and accusedthe booksellers of neglect of their busi-ness. The same complaint has been madein the present day time after time.Too much is expected from provincialbooksellers. A tradesman's first duty isto make his business pay, and if ho fillshis shop with books which are not wantedon the chance of some odd customerappearing he might soon be bankrupt.At the same time an intelligent dealershould have a pretty good idea as to thebooks which sell, and stock accordingly.


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68 BITS FROMThere is only one way by which a really

good book shop could be established inevery provincial town of, say, over tenthousand inhabitants, and that way wouldbe to endow or subsidise the small book-seller, so as to enable him to sell at thesame prices as the shops in the cities.

Publishers give the best terms to largebuyers, and this has the effect of central-ising the trade.One would like to see a model bookshop and an ideal bookseller in everytown, but the tendency is all the otherway. How can the little man, who re-quires maybe only two copies of a sixshilling book, and has to pay 4s 2d acopy, compete with his giant competitor,who can purchase, say, twenty-five or fiftycopies at 3s 6d or 3s a copy ?The second-hand bookseller has the bestchance, but even he must migrate to thecentral city, if he is ambitious of doing alarge trade.The few who made fortunes by book-selling are not to be compared to themany who make no more than a modestlivelihood. The happiest men in thebusiness are not the wealthiest, but themost contented, the men who love theiroccupation, who look on it as a high privi-lege to buy and sell books. Every day tosuch men brings new pleasures. Arrang-ing books on the shelves, dusting books,buying books, selling books, and being


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 69daily filled with a deeper love for thesesilent companions of their labours. Thepleasure of tasting the contents of a bookis very sweet to the bookseller of a liter-ary mind. He reads a bit here, anotherbit there, and thus he lives a high ideallife in the midst of what some may thinkvery commonplace surroundings.


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X.SHADES OF THE OLD BOOK-SELLERS.In works of fiction the second-hand book-seller is a curious compound of imagina-tion and reality. He is invariably an oldman of a morose, unsociable temperament.He is of a sceptical disposition ; lastcentury he quoted frem Voltaire, Hume,and Tom Paine, and nowadays he studiesthe higher critics. He is miserly,greedy, shabby, and utterly callous as tothe world's opinions. He is usually awidower ; his charmingly lovely daughterand a black cat are the companions ofhis solitude. One of his customers is awealthy young man, the son of a duke,one of those extraordinary youths offiction who " pulled stroke in his Univer-sity race," or was "one of a select elevenat cricket in St Somebody's College."The bookseller's daughter is by nature farabove her station, and to her the duke'sson makes ardent love whilst picking upin her father's shop "many a quaint andcurious volume of forgotten lore." Hepurchases most expensive books from the

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BITS FROM AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 71old man, tossing down hundred poundnotes as if they were bits of wastepaper.The story finishes with wedding bells, andthe old bookseller's daughter becomes aduchess.

I once knew an old bookseller in theflesh who allowed his greed for books andmoney to over-rule all other interests inhis life. He quarrelled with and partedfrom every member of his family. In thehouse in which he lived the books whichoverflowed from his shop were stored.Every spare corner was packed withmusty, dusty tomes. Double rows ofbook shelves were erected across therooms. He had reserved a space by thekitchen fire in which he lived, moved, andhad his being, in which he cooked hisfood, ate, and slept. To get to this innersanctuary one had to grope one's waythrough a lane of book-laden shelves.The dust was left to accumulate every-where undisturbed. The solitary oldman lived in penury, discomfort, andmisery, surrounded by books the valueof which would have supplied him withevery comfort in his old age. His daysmight have been made bright, and hisdeclining years joyous by the companion-ship and sympathies of loved ones andfriends, but from these he had cut him-self off, and ho died alone, unwatched byfriends and unattended by human hands.He was found dead seated in his shabby


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72 BITS FROMold armchair, with books, discomfort, anddust around him. Well might we pray,"From a lonely and unregretted death,Good Lord deliver us."

I was at one time employed by asecond-hand dealer in books who wasthe most miserly, miserable, and suspi-cious man I ever came in close contactwith. He dined every day in the backshop on rice and milk ; one New Year'smorning he presented me with an orange,which was the only gift I ever receivedfrom him. When I had been with himsome time, I ventured to ask for an in-crease in my salary, expecting at least 5s,but after many objections he added six-pence per week to my by no meansprincely income.

Booksellers of the olden days havebeen possessed with literary ambitions.Samuel Richardson, author of "Pamela,or Virtue Rewarded," the father of ourEnglish novelists, was a bookseller. DrJohnson, the ponderous and prosy lexico-grapher and essayist, was a bookseller'sson ; and many have been the retailersand publishers of books who have givento the world memoirs of their lives, auto-biographies, and confessions.One of the earliest booksellers whosememory has survived was Jacob Tonson

(1656), son of a barber-surgeon. He com-menced business with 100, died in hiseightieth year worth ,fc>0,000. About


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 73two hundred years later William Cham-bers published his memoirs, from which itappears he began business with 5s in1819. He died in his eighty-third year,wealthy beyond the dreams of his earlydays.

If Jacob Tonson and William Chambersare average representatives of the trade,then let all poor men make their sonsbooksellers, for the leading facts in thesetwo worthy men's lives are alike. Theybegan life poor, lived far beyond thealloted span of years in the sheath of thisflesh, and died wealthy.When an apprentice, I was presentedby my employers with a copy of "Self-Help," by Samuel Smiles. In this mostpopular of biographical books, the authortells the story of the lives and strugglesof a wonderful collection of men whohave succeeded in piling up for them-selves nice heaps of gold before they"shuffled off this mortal coil," and theyouth who reads the book is told to goand do likewise. Not a word is said bySamuel of the thousands who fail. Theman who makes money, keeps money,and dies clutching his money, is the idealman, the perfect example. " Man's chiefend in life "according to the philosophyof Smiles and other writers of books foryoung men"is to get as much moneyas one possibly can."The lives of the best and most un


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74 BITS FROMselfish of men and women are seldomwritten, simply because they are notvulgarised by the glitter of gold, andbecause they are, in the eyes of the self-helper, failures. Think what a poor showthe life of Jesus, who was poor and self-denying all His days, would make whencompared with the life and experiences ofa self-made millionaire.

Of the many booksellers who havelived, and sold books, and died in theshadowy past, one can meet with theshades of those only who have by theiroriginality, or success, made some littlestir in the world. Jacob Tonson mademost of his money by publishing, not sell-ing books. He was Dryden's publisher,and had a share in the early editions ofMilton's "Paradise Lost." His shop wasin Gray's Inn Gate, under tho sign " TheShakspere's Head." Tonson was in 1700the founder of the Kit Cat Club. In1703 he built a room at Barn Elms,Barnes, for the use of the club. Thisroom was adorned with portraits of mem-bers, painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller, oncanvas of a special size, 36 inches by 28inches, which has always since been called" Kit Cat " size. Jacob Tonson, with hisnephew, was connected as publisher withPope, Swift, Addison, Steel, and otherwriters of the essayist school.An honourable place as a booksellerand philanthropist is occupied by Thomas


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 75Guy, born in 1644, founder of Guy'sHospital. The Bible was the foundationof Guy's fortune. Not as a reader of thesacred pages, nor as a preacher of itstruths, nor as a commentator, but as apublisher and distributor of cheap well-printed editions of the Bible did theworthy bookseller make money.At that time English editions of theScriptures were badly and inaccuratelyprinted on cheap paper. The best edi-tions were issued in Holland and importedto this country for sale. Thomas Guyobtained from the University of Oxfordan assignment of their privilege of print-ing the Bible, and he soon established alarge trade. Later in life he made profit-table investments in South Sea Stock.The " South Sea Bubble," which spelledruin to so many, meant fortune to thelucky speculative bookseller. His greatbenefaction to humanity was the buildingand endowing of Guy's Hospital at a costof 240,000. He died in 1724, eightyyears of age.

In 1705 was published a curious bookentitled "The Life and Errors of JohnDunton, late Citizen of London, writtenby himself in solitude ; with an idea ofa New Life ; wherein is shown how he'dthink, speak, and act, might he live overhis days again." The author was a book-seller, brother-in-law of the Rev. SamuelWesley, father of the founder of Method-2D


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76 BITS FROMism. Dunton was a man of many ideas,some mad, some sensible. He published" The Athenian Gazette " as early as 1690,being the founder of magazine and news-paper literature. In his old age he gotinto difficulties, and unlike the otherworthies whose shades have appeared tous, he died in poverty in the 75th year ofhis age.

Many, like John Dunton, would wishto get the chance of living a new life, ifthey could but roll back the years thathave gone, and live them over again ; yetfor everyone, be he young or old, the newlife is waiting with the rising of the sunevery morning. Fresh, new, glorious,hopeful, victorious and happy life, couldone but have the clearness of vision tosee one's possibilities.

Printers, publishers, and retailers ofliterary ware were formerly all includedin the term booksellers. Nowadays wehave many sub-divisions connected withthe making and selling of books. Thework of the author of a book and of theartist who illustrates its pages may belikened to the spiritual or immortal partof a man. The work by which the unseenidea of the creator of a book becomesvisible to all men is like the building-upof the earthly tenement in which the soulfor the time being lives.The paper manufacturer, the printer,

the binder, all minister to the publisher,


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AN OLD ROOK SHOP. 77who designs the form in which a newbook is to appear. We have next thewholesale bookseller distributing to theretailer, and lastly the public ever eagerfor something new. There are also thegreat public libraries, and the smaller cir-culating libraries, where books are notsold but are lent out for hire to those whowish to read but cannot purchase. Lastly,we have the second-hand bookseller, whodeals in the books which survive the wearand tear, after they have been cast asideby their original owners.

Samuel Richardson (born 1G89) was abookseller in the most comprehensivesense of the word. He was an author ofbooks which are still read and admiredhe was a printer, a publisher, and duringpart of his career attended behind thecounter. His father meant him to be aparson, but he could not afford to pay forhis education, so Samuel was apprenticedto a printer instead. When he was thir-teen years of age he amused himself bywriting love letters for the girls of theDerbyshire village where he lived. Theseearly literary epistles, no doubt, were thefoundations on which he built his lettersin " Clarissa," " Sir Charles Grandison,"and "Pamela."

Fielding, the author of "JosephAndrews," laughed at the " puny Cockneybookseller pouring out endless volumes ofsentimental twaddle," and called him " a


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78 BITS FROMmoll-coddle and a milksop." Kichardsonretorted by"Had he not known Field-ing, lie should have believed the author of'Joseph Andrews ' to have been an ostler."One feels that it is a degradation of litera-ture when writers descend to such person-alities, and one is glad that modernauthors as a rule have a finer sense ofdelicacy and right feeling towards eachother. Richardson died in 1761, havinglived two years over the allotted threescore and ten.Mr Thorpe, a London bookseller, pub-lished from a manuscript he had dis-covered, in 1832, a little book entitled"The Life of Mr Thomas Gent, printer,of York, written by himself." Gent wasborn in 1691, and died in his eighty-seventh year (1778).Some time ago I heard a paper readentitled "Whom the Gods Love." Thesubject of this suggestively-named essaywas the poets who "died young." Shel-ley, Keats, Kirke White, Chatterton,Burns, all were loved of the gods, andpassed to the world of shades in theiryouth or early manhood. What shall wesay of the booksellers 1

William Hutton, bookseller, of Birming-ham, was ninety-two when he died ; Ton-son, Guy, Dunton, Richardson, Gent,Bohn, Black, Chambers, the elite of book-sellers whose shades are with us, livedevery one of them for over seventy years,


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AN OLD BOOK SHOP. 79If these worthies were not "loved of thegods," their memories are honoured bymen. Their long, useful, and fruitfullives are monuments of which booksellersof the present day might well be proud.

William Hutton wrote the story of hislife from memory when he was seventy-five years old. This book has gonethrough four editions, the latest beingpublished by Warne & Co., 1872.Hutton's early life was very hard. Whenonly seven years of age he had to work ina silk mill, rising at five every morning.In 1750, when he was twenty-seven yearsof age, he started as a bookseller in Bir-mingham. Ho was very frugal. Fiveshillings a week

bits from old books will

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