The California International Antiquarian Book Fair is in town this weekend, at the Century Plaza Hotel on the Avenue of the Stars.  I spent the day there and saved a fortune not buying what I wanted, as follows:

The Four Quartets, first editions, each signed by the author. £ 20,000.  I feel as if I would be a better person if I owned these. 

The 1923 auction catalogue for the contents of 40 Sussex Square, Brighton, belonging to Victoria Lady Sackville, Vita Sackville-West's notoriously difficult mother, the catalogue fully priced and annotated and inscribed both "V. Nicholson" and "Vita Sackville-West" on the cover.  The sale took seven days.  A "fierce" asking price of £ 5300 for this "rare Bloomsbury" association piece.  As I have a well-known taste for auction catalogues, especially those of the contents of vanished stately homes, (I believe 40 Sussex Square is now converted to flats), I was sorely tempted.  But what I'm really looking for, of course, is the sale catalogue for the contents of Warter Priory.  If you run across it, do let me know.

The most coveted item of the day, however, was a breviary (Paris, 1659) with an exquisite red morocco gilt binding by Antoine Ruette with the royal arms of Marie-Therese of Austria (1638-1683), queen consort of Louis XIV, offered by Librairie Walden, Paris, for 10,000 Euros  Imagine:

"Maroquin rouge au décor 'a la fanfare' a compartiments quadrilobés dessinés au double filet, ornés aux petits fers en pointillé, armes au centre des plat et chiffres MTA répétés dans les quatre compartiments qui entourent les armoiries, dos a nerfs orné de filets et poincoins dorés, chiffre MTA et lys couronnés alternés..."

Doesn't it sound divine?  Holding the precious piece in my hands as the charming young French book dealer explained the finer points, I was reminded of the enduring appeal of French Catholic devotion, especially the royal variety.  Plus, as you well know, I have a weakness for persuasive, darkly handsome young Frenchmen.  You could almost hear the pounding of my checkbook in my jacket's breast pocket.

And yet, for reasons which perhaps only a passing glance at my bank balance would make clear, I resisted all temptation -- this time, at least, since "Insufficient funds" has not always been a deterrent to satisfying my desires.   There was a time when you could distract me with a vague promise and a fleeting glimpse of physical beauty and I would forget all about paying the rent.  But I digress.

In the end, having run into a few old friends and wandered and browsed and perused and thoroughly enjoyed myself I came home not much poorer than I'd started out.  And richer for a day well spent.