HKB
country and into provincial towns, before the great change occurred, and everything gravitated to London, has related to me a series of stories of his fortunes as an occasional collector.
In the case of the doctor, the old textbooks on Porcelain and Pottery became of secondary account, and his little lot of early and curious volumes was consigned to an American agent for disposal in the States; but I think that I stumbled on them shortly after at an auction in Leicester Square. Chaffers on Hall-Marks superseded Chaffers on the less favoured topic, and Cockburn's shop in Richmond and other depôts supplied the material for gratifying the new taste. When one went to Twickenham House (now no more), one was introduced, not to a fresh dish, or cup and saucer, or ceramic knick-knack, but to a rat-tailed spoon of special merit, or a silver mug with an inedited mark. It was growing toward the close of the scene; whatever the plea might have been for the prior line, it was at any rate pursued with ardour and consistency; the owner's heart and soul were in it; it was a sort of religion with him; he believed in it, as his associates believed in him, and identified him and his name, and his home, with the subject. But the more recent foible was deficient in depth and sincerity; his set had been educated--educated by him--in a different school; and they looked wistfully and languidly at the objects, which their entertainer submitted for their criticism or approbation.
It was in truth a passing whim, an old man's infection with the prevailing epidemic for what can scarcely be of real interest or importance to private individuals except where there is hereditary association or in the shape of works of reference. Friends noted an abatement in the enthusiasm; pieces mysteriously disappeared; nearly the whole accumulation, never a very large one, melted away; and the master was not long in following.
My remaining friend was imbued with a liking for old silver rather because he was fond of seeing it about him and on his table than in connection with any systematic plan. He was not guiltless of an affection for bargains, and never, I believe, went higher than 10s. an ounce. In the old days--in the forties and fifties--some tolerable examples were procurable at that rate, especially in the provinces; but latterly he found the market too stiff for him--not for his purse, but for his views. Many a desirable lot he has missed for sixpence in the ounce. A large salver engraved with masks by Hogarth, which Lazarus the dealer offered him at 7s. 6d., he lost, because he remained immoveable at 7s., and had the satisfaction of hearing that it eventually brought about four times the money, passing from hand to hand.
My friend acted on a different principle from that, which I should have followed with ample funds at my command. I would have secured a few first-rate examples, as he did, to some extent, in china. He had bought Chelsea figures, when they were at reasonable prices, and he gave only £3, 10s. for a set of four (out of five) beakers of the same porcelain, painted with exotic birds on a dark blue ground. Benjamin bade him £50 for them; but he quietly remarked: 'If they are worth that to you, they are worth as much to me.' This was a favourite saying of his; he would draw out the expert, and then shut him up so. He never ceased to lament the Lazarus salver.