In 1848 Thomas Mortimer and Philibus Gaunt mistakenly sat down at the same empty table in the dark corner of an Edinborough pub just inside of Cooper’s Close. Due to the gloom, neither saw the other sit down until it was too late. Once they were seated and realized their mistake, neither could be so rude as to ask the other to leave, or even to leave themselves. Seeing conversation as the only polite solution to the awkward situation, a most curious relationship began.

You see, both Mortimer and Gaunt were collectors of the unique and unusual. Mortimer was a British naturalist and had traveled the empire collecting, cataloging, and trading in biological specimens. Gaunt, on the other hand, collected artifacts of very different origins. Through channels and sources that still remain unclear, Philibus collected and traded in objects of magical origins. Both Mortimer and Gaunt found each other’s work phenomenally fascinating and decided to enter into a mercantile partnership – Mortimer & Gaunt Curious Mercantile.

They established their small emporium in 1849 in Skinner’s Close just off Castlehill in Edinburgh. The official demolition of Skinner’s Close in 1854 allowed Mortimer and Gaunt to continue operating their emporium of curious mercantile from the same location, but now clandestinely. Pressure against the traffic of magical artifacts had been growing for decades and the demolition of the Close provided a way for them to continue their trade free from the meddlesome public.

For the next 60 years, Mortimer and Gaunt Curious Mercantile amassed an enormous collection of artifacts collected by several dozen of Gaunt’s shadowy associates from all over the world. All were cataloged and shelved in the ample cellars under their emporium. Unfortunately, the demand for their relics declined over those years with the new trend of science taking control of the popular imagination. Interest in the magical waned. Their significant collection sat cataloged but unsold. Both Thomas’ and Philibus’ children eventually lost interest in the increasingly unprofitable endeavor and the emporium was neglected. When Mortimer’s grandson died in WWI, the only relative interested in continuing the business passed and the emporium was finally closed and forgotten to history. 

But the meticulously organized cellars remained. 

My name is Belinda Matisse and I had never heard of my great-great-grandfather Thomas Mortimer and neither my mother nor my grandmother had ever mentioned anything about an old store my family had once owned in Scotland. I grew up in Arsonburough, a historic district of Charleston, South Carolina in the early 2000s.I had always thought my interest in ghost stories, black hair, and heavy eyeliner came from living in the spooky part of Charleston and my frequent trips to Hot Topic. I locked myself in my room for 2 days the day after Prisoner of Azkaban hit the Barnes and Noble bookshelves. I did the same for every subsequent release. I used to smile when I heard the word “goth” muttered derisively as I passed my pink-clad classmates in the school hallway. 

Then, one evening just before I left for college, I was watching a DVD with my mother and grandmother. When an elf entered the scene, my grandmother huffed and blurted quietly  “that is definitely NOT an elf!”. I would have ignored the comment but for my mother’s unusual reaction. “What did the elves look like, Mom?” my mother asked quite ordinarily. “They definitely did NOT look like him - he’s beautiful!” my grandmother responded. “Well”, my grandmother continued “at least his head would definitely not look like that from the skulls I’ve seen”. My eyebrows began to hurt as they were lifted higher with each comment. “What are you two talking about!” I blurted out, interrupting this alarmingly calm interaction. 

And that one question led to a treasure trove of information I had never realized I had been searching for my whole life. All through college I dedicated any spare time to researching Thomas Mortimer and Philibus Gaunt and what had happened to their emporium. After graduation I took off several months for research in Edinburgh. I soon  discovered the last deed for the emporium while searching the Register of Sasines. No record of a transfer of ownership could be found after 1917, when it belonged to my great-grandfather. Later, after searching the Record of Deeds, I discovered my great-grandfather’s will. While the emporium itself had been sold to pay off debt, the cellars and all of the contents had been willed to his daughter, my grandmother! My grandmother had come to America before her father had died and was never informed of her inheritance. I couldn’t believe what I had found!

Three weeks later my mother, my grandmother, and I were standing above a very large double trap door in the floor of what used to be the emporium and was now an interactive museum featuring optical illusions. The constables that were present helped us break open several oversized padlocks and lift the large trap doors. A few steps down the wooden stairs, I found an old electrical switch and hesitatingly flipped it on. No one could believe what we were seeing through the flickering light. The cellar was a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide. Row after row of 8 foot shelves filled the space. Dozens of perfectly preserved specimens filled each shelf. All were labeled with precision. Thousands of specimens.

After weeks of debate my mother, my grandmother, and I decided to re-open Mortimer and Gaunt Curious Mercantile again after closing nearly 100 years ago. This time, rather than opening a brick and mortar store, I offered to use my recently earned digital marketing degree to set up the store on Shopify.

Mortimer and Gaunt.com is that website. Here you will find many of the items stored in the ample ancient cellars as well as new items that we have begun to collect again.