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Epilogue

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Book Madness
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280EpilogueOn an uncertain day in 1848—weather and season unknown—a solitary pedestrian might have been seen strolling along Broadway in the pleasant little American city of New York. Pausing before the Astor House, an imposing structure towering to the height of five stories, he gazed into the window of a book shop over the door of which was emblazoned the firm name of Bartlett and Welford. Why should we withhold from the impatient reader that the perambulating stranger was a young printer, Charles Frederickson by name? On this day, portentous for book collectors ... Frederickson probably entered the book shop with the feelings common to most of us on such occasions, a hope to be sorely tempted struggling with a mental inventory of spare cash. This is one of the thrills that wealth cannot give.—Harry Bache SmithWhen he first saw Charles Lamb’s books on display in the Astor House, Charles W. Frederickson resembled Keats as “a schoolboy ... With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window.”1 He had yet to become the wealthy bibliomaniac, known as “Fred” in the auction halls, who could purchase any book that caught his fancy. When he attended the auction held by Cooley, Keese & Hill at which a third of Lamb’s library was resold, his mental calcu-lations once again yielded no spare cash. “Mr. Frederickson is not named among the purchasers at this sacrificial auction, to which no doubt his poverty and not his will consented,” observes Harry B. Smith, a fourth-generation protagonist of this story.2 The American bookseller Ernest Dressel North records in his introduction to the catalogue of Charles Frederickson’s library that when a boy Frederickson visited the store of Bartlett & Welford and “looked longingly over the books for sale from Lamb’s library, registering a
© Yale University Press, New Haven

280EpilogueOn an uncertain day in 1848—weather and season unknown—a solitary pedestrian might have been seen strolling along Broadway in the pleasant little American city of New York. Pausing before the Astor House, an imposing structure towering to the height of five stories, he gazed into the window of a book shop over the door of which was emblazoned the firm name of Bartlett and Welford. Why should we withhold from the impatient reader that the perambulating stranger was a young printer, Charles Frederickson by name? On this day, portentous for book collectors ... Frederickson probably entered the book shop with the feelings common to most of us on such occasions, a hope to be sorely tempted struggling with a mental inventory of spare cash. This is one of the thrills that wealth cannot give.—Harry Bache SmithWhen he first saw Charles Lamb’s books on display in the Astor House, Charles W. Frederickson resembled Keats as “a schoolboy ... With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window.”1 He had yet to become the wealthy bibliomaniac, known as “Fred” in the auction halls, who could purchase any book that caught his fancy. When he attended the auction held by Cooley, Keese & Hill at which a third of Lamb’s library was resold, his mental calcu-lations once again yielded no spare cash. “Mr. Frederickson is not named among the purchasers at this sacrificial auction, to which no doubt his poverty and not his will consented,” observes Harry B. Smith, a fourth-generation protagonist of this story.2 The American bookseller Ernest Dressel North records in his introduction to the catalogue of Charles Frederickson’s library that when a boy Frederickson visited the store of Bartlett & Welford and “looked longingly over the books for sale from Lamb’s library, registering a
© Yale University Press, New Haven
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