Nec semper feriet quodcunque minabitur arcus.
CHAPTER XLIV.
We have now to introduce a Bookseller of a very singular description, who in our notes is termed the Exotic Bookseller. He was the introducer of a new æra in the profession of which he was so successful a member, and the anecdotes of his rise, from a humble station to great opulence, and to a familiar communication with the noble and the great, would of themselves form a very interesting and entertaining narrative. Equidem plura audivi quam credo, sed nec affirmare sustineo de quibus dubito, nec subducere quæ accepi.
His father honourably and successfully pursued the occupation, which descended to the son, in a remote provincial town, and had deservedly obtained great reputation from the elegance and neatness of his bindings. If the intelligence received by the Sexagenarian be not fallacious, he was the inventor of the art of painting landscapes on the edges of the external leaves of a book, which only became visible when unfolded to a certain distance.
Be the above as it may, the son was the first person who professedly displayed in the metropolis shelves of valuable books in splendid bindings, and having taken a large house in one of the most frequented and fashionable streets, it soon became the resort of the gay morning loungers of both sexes. At the same time also invitation was held out to students and scholars, and persons of real taste, from the opportunity of seeing and examining the most curious and rare books, manuscripts, and missals.
His success at home of itself seemed sufficient to satisfy any ordinary speculator in this sort of commerce, but this was not enough for the personage of whom we are speaking. He determined to make a circuit of Europe, and proceeding from his native island with abundance of money, great acuteness, the most intimate and familiar acquaintance with the objects of his research, and above all, choosing the most auspicious moment for his purpose, when by following the rear of the French armies, he might on easy terms obtain his choice of what he most wanted, he had abundant cause on his return to felicitate himself on his success. Other speculations also connected with his profession, proved alike fortunate, and ere long elevated the subject of these remarks to considerable distinction and opulence. He became a sort of literary oracle, and was consulted by the grave and the gay, the lively and severe, the scholar and the sciolist; and truth to say, his manner was so inimitably fine, that he had as much to say on an illuminated missal, and an Etruscan vase, as on the books printed at the Sabiaco monastery, or the Florence Homer of 1488.
The solemn hour of retirement from the world at length approached, that crisis of such rare occurrence, when the votary of wealth exclaims with sincerity, “Have I not enough?” Mr. ⸺ married, and became a country gentleman. Many whimsical stories are to be found in books, which detail particular cases of hypochondriacal and nervous disorders, of men who having been occupied in the vigorous part of life in active business, have found retirement from employment not only tedious and uncomfortable, but exceedingly painful.
One is recorded of a great shoemaker, who purchased a villa upon Blackheath, to which he retired with great exultation and delightful views of promised pleasure. A summer-house was to be erected, in which our friends from Aldgate were to enjoy their refreshing pipes; fruit-trees of every kind were to be planted; the flag held out on Sundays as a signal of welcome to all old acquaintances passing that way; politics discussed, and the nation saved from almost irretrievable ruin. Alas! alas! how soon a thing when once in our possession, loses its lustre, its beauty, and its value. After the short experiment of a few months, Mr. Last began to think that something was the matter with him, though he did not know exactly what. The walk on the heath lost its interest, the views from Greenwich-hill ceased to delight, the appetite was not so good, sleep was broken, and a general low-spiritedness ensued, which began to wear a formidable appearance.
A celebrated physician was sent for from the metropolis. His sagacity soon found out the cause of the malady, and prescribed a simple but certain remedy. It appeared evident to the medical gentleman, that the mischief originated in the privation of those employments for which the mind of the patient was so constituted, as to be not only the best, but alone adapted. After a minute enquiry into what hands the business, so inauspiciously quitted, had fallen, and ascertaining the practicability of the patient’s being thankfully welcomed as an occasional visitor, to give the benefit of his advice and experience, it was determined that he was regularly to go to town by the stage three times a week, to assist in “cutting out.” The experiment succeeded, and health and cheerfulness were restored.
It is by no means intended to insinuate, that our retired bookseller became a victim of similar infirmities, or if he had the propensity to imbibe the miasma, he took care to guard against its pernicious effects. He continued now and then, at intervals, by way of amusement, and at the desire of friends, to dabble a little in the way of his former occupation, and was said, on some critical occasion, to have made a trip to the Continent, partly on the account of declining health, and partly to avail himself of a tempting opportunity to pick and choose, from a very select collection of rare things in his way.