The London Chronicle of December 3-5, 1767, contains a curious advertisement, headed 'Book-Missing.' It goes on, 'Whereas there is missing out of the late Dr. Chandler's Library the fifth Volume of Cardinal Pool's Letters, and it is presumed that the said volume of Letters was borrowed by some friend of the Doctor's; it is earnestly requested by the Widow and Executrix of the said Dr. Chandler that whoever is in possession of the said volume would be so kind as immediately to send it to Mr. Buckland, Bookseller, Paternoster Row, and the favour will be gratefully acknowledged.'
When Sir Walter Scott lent a book, he put in its place a wooden block bearing the name of the borrower and the date of the loan. Charles Lamb, tired of lending his books, threatened to chain Wordsworth's poems to his shelves, adding, 'For of those who borrow, some read slow; some mean to read, but don't read; and some neither read nor mean to read, but borrow to give you an opinion of their sagacity. I must do my money-borrowing friends the justice to say that there is nothing of this caprice or wantonness of alienation in them. When they borrow money they never fail to make use of it.'
Just as the difference between the book-thief and the book-borrower is of too slight a nature to warrant independent chapters, so the hero who indulges in the luxury of a 'knock-out' is more or less of a thief, and this company is, essentially, a very proper place in which to find him. A 'knock-out,' it may be briefly explained to the uninitiated, is a system by which two or more booksellers—or, for the matter of that, any other tradesmen—combine to procure certain books at a lower than normal auction value. An American paper stated, some time ago, and among many other remarkable things, that 'a private buyer cannot obtain a book by auction in London at any price.' The extreme foolishness of such a statement need not be enlarged upon in this place. That the knock-out system does exist in London no one but a fool would deny. That it does occur now and then at such places as Sotheby's, Christie's, Puttick and Simpson's and Hodgson's, is without any manner of doubt, but not to any extent worth mentioning. Where the system is in vogue is at sales held in private houses, and at auction-rooms where books are not generally sold. At such places books are usually knocked down at absurdly low figures, until the private person steps in, when the prices begin to go up with a bound; they then realize oftentimes figures far above those at which they may be acquired at the shops. After the private bidder has been excited into paying an excessive price for his lots, he realizes that he is doing a foolish thing, and resigns the game into the hands of the trade, when the prices again begin to assume their former very low levels. The knock-out books are taken away by their nominal purchaser, and in a convenient back parlour of some handy 'pub' they are put up again for competition among the clique, when all profits realized are thrown into a pool, and afterwards equally divided.
'The two books you commissioned me to get were knocked down at £1 15s. and 10s. respectively,' said a bookseller to a well-known collector only the other day; 'and if you insist upon having them at these prices, plus the commission, you must have them. But as a matter of fact they cost me £1 over and above the total of £2 5s.' The reply to the collector's demand for an explanation was, 'Smith agreed to let me have these two books if I did not oppose his bidding for the Fielding.' It is scarcely necessary to say that the total cost, with the £1 thrown in, was much below the original commission, whilst the Fielding ran up to considerably over the price Smith intended to have given. By striking a balance, the two cronies each obtained what he wanted. An arrangement of this sort is nearly invariably the explanation of two extreme prices being paid for equally good copies of one book in a single season.
In 1781 a portion of the library formed by Ralph Sheldon, of Weston, Warwickshire, chiefly in the third quarter of the seventeenth century, was sold at Christie's, but the auctioneer throughout appears to have been victimized by the knock-out system. One of the lots, comprising a large collection of scarce old plays in fifty-six volumes, quarto, was knocked down to one bookseller for £5 5s.; he then passed it on to another for £18, and the collection was sold on the spot to Henderson the actor for £31 10s. At this same sale the English Bible, 1537, realized 13s.; two copies of the Common Prayer Book, 1552, 8s.; the First Folio Shakespeare, with two other books, £2 4s.; the 'Legenda Aurea,' printed by Notary, 1503, 10s. 6d. It would not be difficult to extend this list of illustrations, but perhaps one example is as good as a hundred.
We may, appropriately enough, conclude this brief but sufficiently lengthy notice of the knock-out system with an anecdote which shows that, in this case, a 'knock-out' would have been justifiable. At a certain famous book-sale a few years ago, a volume of no particular interest, except that it contained the autograph of the Earl of Derwentwater, was possibly worth £5. But the bidding was brisk, two of the dealers being evidently bent on having the prize. To the astonishment of everybody, the price went up to about 120 guineas, when one of the dealers gave in. Taking the other man aside, he said, 'Who have you been bidding for?' 'Mr. So-and-So.' 'So have I.' Another illustration of the unexpected and incomprehensibly sudden rise in the auction value of books is explained in the following extract of a letter from Horace Walpole: 'I cannot conclude my letter without telling you what an escape I had, at the sale of Dr. Mead's library, which goes extremely dear. In the catalogue I saw Winstanley's "Views of Audley End," which I concluded was a thin dirty folio, worth about fifteen shillings. As I thought it might be scarce, it might run to two or three guineas; however, I bid Graham certainly buy it for me. He came the next morning in a great fright, said he did not know whether he had done right or very wrong; that he had gone as far as nine and forty guineas. I started in such a fright! Another bookseller had, luckily, as unlimited a commission, and bid fifty. I shall never give an unbounded commission again.'
