Sender: Rare book and manuscripts <EXLIBRIS-L@LISTSERV.INDIANA.EDU>
Although an ideal venue for the expression of deep learning, one sometimes
misses the equal charm of its antithesis, naivety, seldom to be found
outside brick-and-mortar ones. If I may quote Reginald Hine:
"Perhaps, as a bibliophile, my toes have been more fortunate than my
fingers, for I have 'kicked' against other treasures in my time. Years ago
there was a bookshop at Hitchin with exciting possibilities.It had been
opened by a coach builder named Walter Odell, who seemed to think that, on
retirement from his trade, he might amuse himself and make an honest penny
in that way. It would be more accurate to describe the shop as half opened,
for Odell knew next to nothing about books, he never liked to do business in
the mornings, and never once, during the twenty years of my acquaintance,
had he troubled to clear the debris from his floors.His terms were simple
enough: a 'tanner' for an octavo, ninepence for a quarto, a 'bob' for a
folio. The inside of his books did not concern him; he sold by size. As for
the surplus, unshelved specimens on the floor, to be taken with all faults,
and in particular with the mud and dust of our shoes as we trampled upon
them, they went for threepence apiece.
One winter's afternoon, moving uneasily along the shelves in a murky
gaslight, I lost my footing on the shifting pile of floor books and fell
heavily upon some Amsterdam vellums and the elephant folio of Spence's
'Polymetis' (1747). Being already grounded, it seemed a convenient
opportunity to examine some of the other books on which I sat, and the very
first book I took up was Dryden's 'Virgil' (1697). Already I possessed a
copy of this handsome folio bearing the autograph of Captain Robert Hinde,
the original of Sterne's 'Uncle Toby,' and I was about to cast Odell's
unwanted copy aside when I caught sight of a signature on the half-title. I
looked again and gasped: it was the signature of Alexander Pope.
'This will never do,' I said to Odell when I had struggled to my feet,
'you really ought to know what books you possess. Here man, look, is an
autograph of Alexander Pope, worth pounds and pounds and pounds. I can't
give you a threepenny bit for that.'
'Nonsense,' he broke in, 'it's your luck. I told you they were all
threepence on the floor, and I wouldn't alter it, even if you found
Shakespeare's autograph. Besides, who was this Alexander Pope?'.
Realizing the needs of bibliophiles, a few booksellers try to fake this
naivety - I knew of one who each day hid a 'mistake' - a book worth far more
than the marked price - in his stock to keep customers coming. But it isn't
the same!