James F. Drake, in New York, specializes in association books and in first editions of nineteenth-century authors. His stock I have frequently laid under contribution. My Surtees and many other colored-plate books came from him, and first editions innumerable of authors now becoming "collected."
I know of no bibliography of George Moore, but my set is, I think, complete. Many are presentation copies. George Moore's many admirers will remember that his volume, "Memoirs of My Dead Life," is much sought in the first English edition. I have the proof sheets of the entire volume, showing many corrections, as in the specimen on page 50. My "Literature at Nurse,"--a pamphlet attacking the censorship of the novel established by Mudie,--which was published at threepence, and now commands forty dollars, is inscribed to Willie Wilde; while "Pagan Poems" was a suitable gift "To Oscar Wilde with the author's compliments."
[Illustration: Specimen Proof-Sheet of George Moore's "Memoirs of My Dead Life"]
There is no halt in the constantly advancing value of first editions of Oscar Wilde. That interest in the man still continues, is evidenced by the steady stream of books about him. Ransome's "Oscar Wilde," immediately suppressed; "Oscar Wilde Three Times Tried," and "The First Stone," privately printed by the "Unspeakable Scot," already difficult to procure, are among the latest.
[Illustration: Title of George Moore's "Pagan Poems"]
For books of the moment, published in small editions which almost immediately become scarce, Drake's shop in Fortieth Street is headquarters; and as my club in New York is near by, I find myself frequently dropping in for a book and a bit of gossip.
There are drawbacks as well as compensations to living in the country. "Gossip about Book Collecting" has its charms, as William Loring Andrews has taught us. It is sometimes difficult to get it, living as I do "twelve miles from a lemon"; and so, when I am in New York and have absorbed what I can at Drake's, who is very exact in the information he imparts, I usually call on Gabriel Wells. How Wells receives you with open arms and a good cigar, in his lofty rooms on the Avenue overlooking the Library, is known to most collectors. Books in sets are,--perhaps I should say, were,--his specialty; recently he has gone in for very choice items, which, when offered, must be secured, or anguish is one's portion thereafter. My last interview with him resulted in my separating myself from a bunch of Liberty Bonds, which I had intended as a solace for my old age; but a few words from Wells convinced me that Dr. Johnson was right when he said, "It is better to live rich than die rich"; and so I walked away with a copy of Blake's "Marriage of Heaven and Hell," which is about as rare a book as one can hope to find at the end of a busy day.