Wilmarth
Lewis’ classic autobiographical account Collector’s Progress is well represented in my library in multiple
association copies, many important, but none as charming as this example. I purchased the book recently on Ebay for a
nominal sum using Ebay “bucks” – in effect rewards credit for other purchases—that
was about to expire. Use it or lose
it. The recipient was not noted by the
seller but the price so tempting I ordered it on a whim and let the dice roll.
. . .
Wilmarth Lewis. COLLECTOR’S PROGRESS. London:
Constable & Co Ltd., [1952]. xxiii
245 p. Plates. 8vo. Blue
cloth, spine stamped in gilt.
Notes: First UK edition, with a
preface for the English reader (pp. vii-ix) not found in the American edition.
Inscribed,
“To John Thorpe (who came to all three of my Sandars Lectures) with every good
wish for his collecting, Wilmarth Lewis, Room 4, Mill Lane, May 9th,
1957.”
Lewis writes in One Man’s Education, “In 1957 [Lewis] became the Sandars Reader in
Bibliography at Cambridge, the second American to be elected to the Readership
since its establishment in 1895. A
liberal interpretation of ‘bibliography’ was necessary to make him eligible, but
he felt safe in his subject, ‘Horace Walpole’s Library.’ The Reader spent six months on each of the
three lectures, which were given on successive days at five following tea, the
ideal hour for lectures in England when the audience is cheered but not
inebriated. . . The audience got to nearly sixty each day; very good, the
Reader was told, for a Sandars Lecture.
“There were no undergraduates, but
there was a boy in the middle of the third row wearing a school blazer, his cap
over one knee. Lewis could not imagine
an American boy going to such a lecture.
He was in the same seat the second day, leaning forward eagerly. Lewis asked Creswick later who he was and
learned that his name was John Thorpe, that he was an ardent book collector who
did the best he could on his allowance of a shilling a week, and that his
father was at Cambridge on sabbatical leave from Princeton. After the third lecture John walked with the
Lewises to a sherry party given for them by the Vice-Chancellor in the Old
Library. Creswick kindly pushed his bike
along the King’s Parade so that he could talk about his collection to Mr.
Lewis. At the party the latter learned
what it is like to be proud of a thirteen-year old compatriot. John was exactly right, not embarrassed, not
precocious. He had a question for Annie
Burr. ‘Mrs. Lewis, do you mind Mr. Lewis
collecting books?’ ‘No, John, I don’t. Do you think it would make any difference if
I did?’ ‘No, ma’am, I do not.’”
