I have alluded to the influence the collecting craze may have on the conscience, and on the gift of charity. The bump denoting the latter varies very considerably in individuals, as in some cases it is reported to be undiscernible by the most gifted phrenologist, yet we each think our own so abnormally developed that we wonder how we keep our hats on. As an instance of the way in which the mania may take hold of the common sense contained in a brain occupied with big undertakings, and large financial questions, let me give you an instance.
At a shop on Blackpool Pier I noticed an oak pulley-block partly gilded, and learnt it had belonged to the rigging of the Foudroyant, which was wrecked there in 1897. Although I did not want this myself I knew a friend who would like to have it. He was very keen on Nelson relics, and had shown me with pride the room he devoted specially to the display of these, which he had accumulated regardless of cost. I purchased the block for a guinea, packed it up, sent it off to the South of England by passenger train, and wrote saying what I had done. What gigantic schemes matured or what h.p. pressure was required to keep his powerful brain under control, I do not know, but in the evening of the following day I received an urgent telegram saying the pulley-block had not yet arrived, and would I trace it forward? Now why could not a man of his experience and resource have waited more than twelve hours after getting my letter for a thing like that to come 250 miles by train, without giving me extra trouble, when I had already put myself out of the way to give him a little pleasure? I forgave him when I received his note of thanks, and he never met me afterwards without referring to my thoughtfulness on his behalf.
Soon after I started I had the advantage of comparing notes with a medical friend, who had a decided penchant for antiques, and he diagnosed collecting as a disease on which he considered himself an authority, if not a specialist, as his knowledge had been acquired by constant practice. His faculties were so acute that on one occasion while feeling the pulse of a patient he lost count of the beats through catching sight of a Bartolozzi print hanging near the bed. He was pleased to say the patient recovered her health, and he obtained the Bartolozzi.
Further evidence in support of this theory is the case of a minister who, after seeing my collection for the first time, could not sleep, but lay awake wondering in which of the houses in his parish he had seen any pewter. May I not carry this a step further without giving offence, by suggesting that when thoughts require to be concentrated on less worldly things, while paying his consoling visits he should spend much of the time with both eyelids closed? Be this as it may, he has secured a number of bargains.
Another instance came under my notice through seeing a letter from a wealthy merchant, the ramifications of whose business are world-wide, in which he stated he had been poking about slums, and had picked up two pepper-pots for a few coppers. Consequently he could not see his way to offer more than three shillings for two which had been advertised for four shillings.
I have discovered among my press cuttings an article which appeared in the Times, August 12, 1910, and I should like you to read the following extract:—
ON COLLECTORS