



Produced by Al Haines









[Frontispiece: THE BIBLIOFIENDS.  DRAWN BY OLIVER HERFORD]





THE

UNPUBLISHABLE

MEMOIRS


BY A. S. W. ROSENBACH




NEW YORK

MITCHELL KENNERLEY

MCMXVII




COPYRIGHT 1917 BY

MITCHELL KENNERLEY




PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES

BY THE VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY

BINGHAMTON - - NEW YORK




TO

R. R.




  CONTENTS


  The Unpublishable Memoirs
  The Three Trees
  The Purple Hawthorn
  The Disappearance of Shakespeare
  The Colonial Secretary
  In Defence of His Name
  "The Hundred and First Story"
  The Lady of the Breviary
  The Evasive Pamphlet
  The Great Discovery
  The Fifteen Joys of Marriage




THE UNPUBLISHABLE MEMOIRS

It was very cruel.

He was dickering for one of the things he had desired for a life-time.

It was in New York at one of the famous book-stores of the metropolis.
The proprietor had offered to him for one hundred and sixty
dollars--exactly the amount he had in bank--the first and only edition
of the "Unpublishable Memoirs" of Beau Brummel, a little volume issued
in London in 1790, and one of two copies known, the other being in the
famous "hidden library" of the British Museum.

It was a scandalous chronicle of fashionable life in the eighteenth
century, and many brilliant names were implicated therein;
distinguished and reputable families, that had long been honored in the
history of England, were ruthlessly depicted with a black and venomous
pen.  He had coveted this book for years, and here it was within his
grasp!  He had just told the proprietor that he would take it.

Robert Hooker was a book-collector.  With not a great deal of money, he
had acquired a few of the world's most sought-after treasures.  He had
laboriously saved his pennies, and had, with the magic of the
bibliophile, turned them into rare volumes!  He was about to put the
evil little book into his pocket when he was interrupted.

A large, portly man, known to book-lovers the world over, had entered
the shop and asked Mr. Rodd if he might examine the Beau Brummel
Memoirs.  He had looked at it before, he said, but on that occasion had
merely remarked that he would call again.  He saw the volume on the
table in front of Hooker, picked it up without ceremony, and told the
owner of the shop that he would purchase it.

"Excuse me," exclaimed Hooker, "but I have just bought it."

"What!" said the opulent John Fenn, "I came especially to get it."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fenn," returned the proprietor, "Mr. Hooker, here, has
just said that he would take it."

"Now, look here, Rodd, I've always been a good customer of yours.  I've
spent thousands in this very shop during the last few years.  I'll give
you two hundred dollars for it."

"No," said Rodd.

"Three hundred!" said Fenn.

"No."

"Four hundred!"

"No."

"I'll give you five hundred dollars for it, and if you do not take it,
I shall never enter this place again!"

Without another word Rodd nodded, and Fenn quickly grasped the little
book, and placed it in the inside pocket of his coat.  Hooker became
angry and threatened to take it by bodily force.  A scuffle ensued.
Two clerks came to the rescue, and Fenn departed triumphantly with the
secrets of the noble families of Great Britain securely in his
possession.

Rodd, in an ingratiating manner, declared to Hooker that no money had
passed between them, and consequently there had been no sale.  Hooker,
disappointed, angry, and beaten, could do nothing but retire.

At home, among his books, his anger increased.  It was the old, old
case of the rich collector gobbling up the small one.  It was
outrageous!  He would get even--if it cost him everything.  He dwelt
long and bitterly upon his experience.  A thought struck him.  Why not
prey upon the fancies of the wealthy!  He would enter the lists with
them; he would match his skill against their money, his knowledge
against their purse.

Hooker was brought up in the mystic lore of books, for he was the son
of a collector's son.  He had always been a student, and half his time
had been spent in the bookseller's shops,