minutely examined; in this dilemma,
forced to confession, this erudite collector assured the keeper of the
royal cabinet, that the strictest search would not avail: "Alas, sir! I
have it here within," he said, pointing to his breast--an emetic was
suggested by the learned practitioner himself, probably from some former
experiment. This was not the first time that such a natural cabinet had
been invented; the antiquary Vaillant, when attacked at sea by an
Algerine, zealously swallowed a whole series of Syrian kings; when he
landed at Lyons, groaning with his concealed treasure, he hastened to
his friend, his physician, and his brother antiquary Dufour,--who at
first was only anxious to inquire of his patient, whether the medals
were of the higher empire? Vaillant showed two or three, of which nature
had kindly relieved him. A collection of medals was left to the city of
Exeter, and the donor accompanied the bequest by a clause in his will,
that should a certain antiquary, his old friend and rival, be desirous
of examining the coins, he should be watched by two persons, one on each
side. La Croze informs us in his life, that the learned Charles Patin,
who has written a work on medals, was one of the present race of
collectors: Patin offered the curators of the public library at Basle to
draw up a catalogue of the cabinet of Amberback there preserved,
containing a good number of medals; but they would have been more
numerous, had the catalogue-writer not diminished both them and his
labour, by sequestrating some of the most rare, which was not discovered
till this plunderer of antiquity was far out of their reach.
When Gough touched on this odd subject in the first edition of his
"British Topography," "An Academic" in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for
August 1772, insinuated that this charge of literary pilfering was only
a jocular one; on which Gough, in his second edition, observed that this
was not the case, and that "one might point out enough _light-fingered
antiquaries_ in the present age, to render such a charge extremely
probable against earlier ones." The most extraordinary part of this
slight history is, that our public denouncer some time after proved
himself to be one of these "light-fingered antiquaries:" the deed
itself, however, was more singular than disgraceful. At the disinterment
of the remains of Edward the First, around which thirty years ago
assembled our most erudite antiquaries, Gough was observed, as
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