The Book-Hunter at Home | Page 3

had they been in those early days of book-hunting, his
library would have been slow indeed of growth. So he passed on and
left it.
All that evening the memory of the little square volume would keep
recurring most absurdly. He didn't want it, it was not in his line, he
would never read it, and so on and so on. But over his pipe that evening
the colophon '. . . . studio & impensis Philippi de Giunta florentini . . .,

1505,' came back to his memory; he must have been mad not to have
bought it at that price, and such a fine copy too. And so to bed, sorely
harassed in his bibliophilic mind.
Next morning he awoke sane and conscious of his folly. An early visit
to the bookstall followed, but the little volume had gone; and it was not
comforting to learn that it had been sold shortly after our bookman saw
it, to a man who 'knew a lot about that kind of books.' Let us hope that
the purchaser treasures the little square volume, printed in italics, as
much as our friend would.
What poignant memories they are, these memories of rare books which
we have found and failed to secure! Two prominent instances of our
bookman's folly stand out with bitter clearness, ever fresh in his
memory as a reminder of the criminal stupidity of procrastination. One
was an exceedingly scarce work by Lawrence Humphrey, entitled
'Optimates sive De Nobilitate eiusque Antiqua Origine,' printed in
small octavo at Basle in 1560, which he once saw in a catalogue for
five shillings. He sent for it three days after the receipt of the catalogue,
and of course it had gone. The other was an unknown, or at least
undescribed, edition of Osorio's 'De Gloria et Nobilitate,' printed at
Barcelona in the early part of the sixteenth century. He lost this in the
same manner, at two shillings! Perhaps, however, you too have been
guilty of these lapses, reader? Semel insanivimus omnes. Experience is
better than advice, and for his part our book-hunter will not be caught
napping again. The following incident will show you, moreover, that it
is not always safe to order books from a catalogue even by return of
post.
For many years he had searched in vain for that rarest of all English
heraldry books (though not properly English, for it is in the Latin
tongue), the 'De Studio Militari, Libri Quatuor' of Master Nicholas
Upton. It was edited by Sir Edward Bysshe, and printed in folio at
London in 1654. The numerous booksellers in London and the country
from whom he sought it had never seen it; indeed, most of them were
unaware of its existence, though it is well known to all heralds.
At length, coming home late one night, our book-hunter found on his

table a catalogue from a bookseller who seems to garner more
out-of-the-way books than any of his fellows. His catalogues are issued
very frequently, for he has a large and quick sale, pricing most of his
wares at less than five shillings. Moreover, the fact that the books
described therein are thrown together without any attempt at
classification, even alphabetical, serves but to add a zest to the repast.
But our book-hunter was tired, and his evil star was in the ascendant,
for he went to bed leaving the catalogue unopened.
Reading it over a late breakfast next morning, upon the last page he
came across the following entry:--
Uptoni (Nich.) De Studio Militari. Johan de Bado Aureo, Tractatus de
Armis. Henrici Spelmanni Aspilogia. Folio, calf. Scarce. 8s. 6d.
Scarce, indeed! In less than five minutes he was driving hot-haste to the
shop.
Of course it was sold: sold by telegram dispatched the night before. He
was allowed to see it, even to handle it, and he frankly confesses that
murderous thoughts rose within him as he held it in his hands. . . . The
bookseller was an old man . . . the shop was very dark . . . just a push,
and perhaps one firm application super caput of a large-paper copy of
Camden's 'Britannia' which lay handy upon the table. . . . But I am glad
to say that our bookman's better nature prevailed, and sorrowfully he
returned the volume to the dealer's hands. Did he know the customer,
and if so would he try to buy it back? Certainly he would. A week later
came a letter saying that the customer was also a collector of these
things, but that he was willing to part with it 'at a price.' Unfortunately
his price was not our book-hunter's, and he failed to secure the
treasure--then.
Now comes the more pleasant sequel. About a year later, coming home
in