no farther.

So much for one of the debased symptoms which in very bad cases
sometimes characterise an otherwise genial failing. There is another
peculiar, and, it may be said, vicious propensity, exhibited
occasionally in conjunction with the pursuit. This propensity is, like
the other, antagonistic in spirit to the tenth commandment, and consists
in a desperate coveting of the neighbour's goods, and a satisfaction,
not so much in possessing for one's self, as in dispossessing him. This
spirit is said to burn with still fiercer flame in the breasts of those
whose pursuit would externally seem to be the most innocent in the
world, and the least excitive of the bad passions--namely, among
flower-fanciers. From some mysterious cause, it has been known to
develop itself most flagrantly among tulip-collectors, insomuch that
there are legends of Dutch devotees of this pursuit who have paid their
thousands of dollars for a duplicate tuber, that they might have the
satisfaction of crushing it under the heel.[28] This line of practice is
not entirely alien to the book-hunter. Peignot tells us that it is of
rare occurrence among his countrymen, and yet, as we have seen, he
thought it necessary to correct the technical term applied to this kind
of practitioner, by calling him a Bibliothapte when he conceals books--a
Bibliolyte when he destroys them. Dibdin warmed his convivial guests at
a comfortable fire, fed by the woodcuts from which had been printed the
impression of the Bibliographical Decameron. It was a quaint fancy, and
deemed to be a pretty and appropriate form of hospitality, while it
effectually assured the subscribers to his costly volumes that the
vulgar world who buy cheap books was definitively cut off from
participating in their privileges.

[Footnote 28: "The great point of view in a collector is to possess that
not possessed by any other. It is said of a collector lately deceased,
that he used to purchase scarce prints at enormous prices in order to
destroy them, and thereby render the remaining impressions more scarce
and valuable."--Grose's Olio, p. 57. I do not know to whom Grose
alludes; but it strikes me, in realising a man given to such
propensities--taking them as a reality and not a joke--that it would be
interesting to know how, in his moments of serious thought, he could
contemplate his favourite pursuit--as, for instance, when the
conscientious physician may have thought it necessary to warn him in