Book-Lovers, Bibliomaniacs and Book Clubs | Page 9

among all respectable publishers and book-dealers, and that buyers should cautiously discriminate against those who practice them. It is not surprising that even the honest publishers and dealers themselves are occasionally made the scapegoats of these obnoxious parasites; but the astute collector is rarely "caught" by their schemes; and after a book-buyer has passed the primary or "experience" stages of book-collecting, he (or she) is designated as a "dead one," in the common parlance of the underground trade here referred to. Fortunate, indeed, are the bibliophiles who have passed unscathed into the category of "dead ones."
That my present condemnatory observations are not directed against that great majority of publishers, booksellers, and agents whose methods in business are founded upon sincerity and integrity, will, I take it, be clearly understood; and I am, indeed, forced partially to disagree with Mr. Joline in his vigorous and general proscription of "subscription book-agents," for experience shows that there are many worthy people of this class, however much they may suffer by the sins of some of their kind. An acquaintance once said to me that he would "never buy another book," because he had been "buncoed" by a book-agent, to whom he otherwise referred with an uncomplimentary adjective. But this did not convince me that his position was more logical than that of the man who declared he would never take another bath because a watch had been stolen from his pocket while he was in bathing at some beach resort. It is incomprehensible that any one could imagine that our paper currency system is fraudulent because there are a few "green-goods" men in the country, or because counterfeit bills appear every now and then.
We read so much in the papers nowadays of the extravagant sums paid for rare books by our modern millionaire bibliomaniacs that one is apt to become somewhat panic-stricken upon experiencing the first symptoms of the bibliomania. While these more opulent victims of book-madness vie with one another in the auction-room, the rational bibliophile sits in the gallery and views with silent awe and amazement the scrimmage over some apparently trifling volume that wouldn't fetch ten cents, but for the fact that it is "unique," and that so and so paid a stupendous sum for it at some previous sale. Despair not, dear bibliophile, of never being able to join in the mad scramble for these "uniques;" nor need you feel that they are essential to the formation of a library. They possess no virtues perceptible to the ordinary bibliophile, and it requires all the eloquence of a Cicero to elucidate their charms when displaying them to friends. For after all, the chief point of interest in such books is their cost price, and this you may be obliged to refrain from mentioning for fear you will be accused of being mentally unbalanced.
It is not necessary to squander a fortune in collecting a library, nor to be hasty in buying every book you come across. Better go slowly and select wisely; you will derive more enjoyment from it, and in later years have less to charge to "experience account."
There are a few "busy" book-collectors who intrust the selection of their books to secretaries or librarians, and thus sacrifice the keenest enjoyment of this captivating pursuit. Of all absurdities, this seems the most insupportable. It would be far more sensible to have your secretary select your friends, because if you should happen not to like these, you could abandon them without ceremony or expense. Why not also attend the opera and your various social functions by proxy, through your secretary? If he were as good a courtier as he is "literary adviser," he might succeed in getting as much enjoyment out of the receptions and dinners as you would, if you were to attend in person. Then, think of the time you would save! We frequently hear the remark: "I have no time to devote to my library. I am very fond of books, but haven't time to collect or read them." And yet seeing what may be done in this regard by care and system, and that the greatest readers have been the busiest men, it seems strange that persons of intelligence should thus express themselves; should admit such obvious fatuity of view and procedure.
In referring to this class of book-buyers, Roswell Field says, "The book-lover, so-called, who lacks any of the thrills that go with the establishment as well as the enjoyment of a library in all of its appointments has deprived himself of many of the most pleasurable literary and semi-literary emotions. That bibliophile never pats his horse or his dog. To him his books are merely tools of trade, accessories to knowledge, to be pawed over, thrown away and replaced by new copies when worn out. He