the love affairs of a bibliomaniac-第14章

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　cherished　trinkets　shall　share　his　grave　with　him。

My　sister；　Miss　Susan；　has　provided　that　after　her　demise　a　number　of　her　most　prized　curios　shall　be　buried　with　her。　　The　list；　as　I　recall　it；　includes　a　mahogany　four…post　bedstead；　an　Empire　dresser；　a　brass　warming…pan；　a　pair　of　brass　andirons；　a　Louis　Quinze　table；　a　Mayflower　teapot；　a　Tomb　of　Washington　platter；　a　pewter　tankard；　a　pair　of　her　grandmother's　candlesticks；　a　Paul　Revere　lantern；　a　tall　Dutch　clock；　a　complete　suit　of　armor　purchased　in　Rome；　and　a　collection　of　Japanese　bric…a…brac　presented　to　Miss　Susan　by　a　returned　missionary。

I　do　not　see　what　Miss　Susan　can　possibly　do　with　all　this　trumpery　in　the　hereafter；　but；　if　I　survive　her；　I　shall　certainly　insist　upon　a　compliance　with　her　wishes；　even　though　it　involve　the　erection　of　a　tumulus　as　prodigious　as　the　pyramid　of　Cheops。　




XIV

ELZEVIRS　AND　DIVERS　OTHER　MATTERS

Boswell's　‘‘Life　of　Johnson''　and　Lockhart's　‘‘Life　of　Scott''　are　accepted　as　the　models　of　biography。　　The　third　remarkable　performance　in　this　line　is　Mrs。　Gordon's　memoir　of　her　father；　John　Wilson；　a　volume　so　charmingly　and　tenderly　written　as　to　be　of　interest　to　those　even　who　know　and　care　little　about　that　era　in　the　history　of　English　literature　in　which　‘‘crusty　Christopher''　and　his　associates　in　the　making　of　‘‘Blackwood's''　figured。

It　is　a　significant　fact；　I　think；　that　the　three　greatest　biographers　the　world　has　known　should　have　been　Scotch；　it　has　long　been　the　fashion　to　laugh　and　to　sneer　at　what　is　called　Scotch　dulness；　yet　what　prodigies　has　not　Scotch　genius　performed　　in　every　department　of　literature；　and　would　not　our　literature　be　poor　indeed　to…day　but　for　the　contributions　which　have　been　made　to　it　by　the　very　people　whom　we　affect　to　deride？

John　Wilson　was　one　of　the　most　interesting　figures　of　a　time　when　learning　was　at　a　premium；　he　was　a　big　man　amongst　big　men；　and　even　in　this　irreverential　time　genius　uncovers　at　the　mention　of　his　name。　　His　versatility　was　astounding；　with　equal　facility　and　felicity　he　could　conduct　a　literary　symposium　and　a　cock…fight；　a　theological　discussion　and　an　angling　expedition；　a　historical　or　a　political　inquiry　and　a　fisticuffs。

Nature　had　provided　him　with　a　mighty　brain　in　a　powerful　body；　he　had　a　physique　equal　to　the　performance　of　what　suggestion　soever　his　splendid　intellectuals　made。　　To　him　the　incredible　feat　of　walking　seventy　miles　within　the　compass　of　a　day　was　mere　child's　play；　then；　when　the　printer　became　clamorous；　he　would　immure　himself　in　his　wonderful　den　and　reel　off　copy　until　that　printer　cried　‘‘Hold；　enough！''　　It　was　no　　unusual　thing　for　him　to　write　for　thirteen　hours　at　a　stretch；　when　he　worked　he　worked；　and　when　he　played　he　played　that　is　perhaps　the　reason　why　he　was　never　a　dull　boy。

Wilson　seems　to　have　been　a　procrastinator。　　He　would　put　off　his　task　to　the　very　last　moment；　this　is　a　practice　that　is　common　with　literary　menin　fact；　it　was　encouraged　by　those　who　were　regarded　as　authorities　in　such　matters　anciently。　　Ringelbergius　gave　this　advice　to　an　author　under　his　tuition：

‘‘Tell　the　printers；''　said　he；　‘‘to　make　preparations　for　a　work　you　intend　writing；　and　never　alarm　yourself　about　it　because　it　is　not　even　begun；　for；　after　having　announced　it　you　may　without　difficulty　trace　out　in　your　own　head　the　whole　plan　of　your　work　and　its　divisions；　after　which　compose　the　arguments　of　the　chapters；　and　I　can　assure　you　that　in　this　manner　you　may　furnish　the　printers　daily　with　more　copy　than　they　want。　　But；　remember；　when　you　have　once　begun　there　must　be　no　flagging　till　the　work　is　finished。''　

The　loyalty　of　human　admiration　was　never　better　illustrated　than　in　Shelton　Mackenzie's　devotion　to　Wilson's　genius。　　To　Mackenzie　we　are　indebted　for　a　compilation　of　the　‘‘Noctes　Ambrosianae；''　edited　with　such　discrimination；　such　ability；　such　learning；　and　such　enthusiasm　that；　it　seems　to　me；　the　work　must　endure　as　a　monument　not　only　to　Wilson's　but　also　to　Mackenzie's　genius。

I　have　noticed　one　peculiarity　that　distinguishes　many　admirers　of　the　Noctes：　they　seldom　care　to　read　anything　else；　in　the　Noctes　they　find　a　response　to　the　demand　of　every　mood。　　It　is　much　the　same　way　with　lovers　of　Father　Prout。　　Dr。　O'Rell　divides　his　adoration　between　old　Kit　North　and　the　sage　of　Watergrass　Hill。　　To　be　bitten　of　either　mania　is　bad　enough；　when　one　is　possessed　at　the　same　time　of　a　passion　both　for　the　Noctes　and　for　the　Reliques　hopeless　indeed　is　his　malady！　　Dr。　O'Rell　is　so　deep　under　the　spell　of　crusty　Christopher　and　the　Corkonian　pere　that　he　not　only　buys　every　copy　of　the　Noctes　and　of　the　Reliques　he　comes　across；　but　insists　　upon　giving　copies　of　these　books　to　everybody　in　his　acquaintance。　　I　have　even　known　him　to　prescribe　one　or　the　other　of　these　works　to　patients　of　his。

I　recall　that　upon　one　occasion；　having　lost　an　Elzevir　at　a　book　auction；　I　was　afflicted　with　melancholia　to　such　a　degree　that　I　had　to　take　to　my　bed。　　Upon　my　physician's　arrival　he　made；　as　is　his　custom；　a　careful　inquiry　into　my　condition　and　into　the　causes　inducing　it。　　Finally；　‘‘You　are　afflicted；''　said　Dr。　O'Rell；　‘‘with　the　megrims；　which；　fortunately；　is　at　present　confined　to　the　region　of　the　Pacchionian　depressions　of　the　sinister　parietal。　　I　shall　administer　Father　Prout's　‘Rogueries　of　Tom　Moore'　（pronounced　More）　and　Kit　North's　debate　with　the　Ettrick　Shepherd　upon　the　subject　of　sawmon。　　No　other　remedy　will　prove　effective。''

The　treatment　did；　in　fact；　avail　me；　for　within　forty…eight　hours　I　was　out　of　bed；　and　out　of　the　house；　and；　what　is　better　yet；　I　picked　up　at　a　bookstall；　for　a　mere　song；　a　first　edition　of　‘‘Special　Providences　in　New　England''！　

Never；　however；　have　I　wholly　ceased　to　regret　the　loss　of　the　Elzevir；　for　an　Elzevir　is　to　me　one　of　the　most　gladdening　sights　human　eye　can　rest　upon。　　In　his　life　of　the　elder　Aldus；　Renouard　says：　　‘‘How　few　are　there　of　those　who　esteem　and　pay　so　dearly　for　these　pretty　editions　who　know　that　the　type　that　so　much　please　them　are　the　work　of　Francis　Garamond；　who　cast　them　one　hundred　years　before　at　Paris。''

In　his　bibliographical　notes　（a　volume　seldom　met　with　now）　the　learned　William　Davis　records　that　Louis　Elzevir　was　the　first　who　observed　the　distinction　between　the　v　consonant　and　the　u　vowel；　which　distinction；　however；　had　been　recommended　long　before　by　Ramus　and　other　writers；　but　had　never　been　regarded。　　There　were　five　of　these　Elzevirs；　viz。：　Louis；　Bonaventure；　Abraham；　Louis；　Jr。；　and　Daniel。

A　hundred　years　ago　a　famous　bibliophile　remarked：　　‘‘The　diminutiveness　of　a　large　portion；　and　the　beauty　of　the　whole；　of　the　classics　printed　by　the　Elzevirs　at　Leyden　and　Amsterdam　have　long　rendered　them　justly　celebrated；　and　the　prices　they　bear　in　　public　sales　sufficiently　demonstrate　the　estimation　in　which　they　are　at　present　held。''

The　regard　for　these　precious　books　still　obtains；　and　we　meet　with　it　in　curiously　out…of…the…way　places；　as　well　as　in　those　libraries　where　one　would　naturally　expect　to　find　it。　　My　young　friend　Irving　Way　（himself　a　collector　of　rare　enthusiasm）　tells　me　that　recently　during　a　pilgrimage　through　the　state　of　Texas　he　came　upon　a　gentleman　who　showed　him　in　his　modest　home　the　most　superb　collection　of　Elzevirs　he　had　ever　set　eyes　upon！

How　far…reaching　is　thy　grace；　O　bibliomania！　　How　good　and　sweet　it　is　that　no　distance；　no　environment；　no　poverty；　no　distress　can　appall　or　stay　thee。　　Like　that　grim　spectre　we　call　death；　thou　knockest　impartially　at　the　palace　portal　and　at　the　cottage　door。　　And　it　seemeth　thy　especial　delight　to　bring　unto　the　lonely　in　desert　places　the　companionship　that　exalteth　humanity！

It　makes　me　groan　to　think　of　the　number　of　Elzevirs　that　are　lost　in　the　libraries　of　rich　parvenus　who　know　nothing　of　and　care　no　　thing　for　the　treasures　about　them　further　than　a　certain　vulgar　vanity　which　is　involved。　　When　Catherine　of　Russia　wearied　of　Koritz　she　took　to　her　affection　one　Kimsky　Kossakof；　a　sergeant　in　the　guards。　　Kimsky　was　elated　by　this　sudden　acquisition　of　favor　and　riches。　　One　of　his　first　orders　was　to　his　bookseller。　　Said　he　to　that　worthy：　　‘‘Fit　me　up　a　handsome　library；　little　books　above　and　great　ones　below。''

It　is　narrated　of　a　certain　British　warrior　that　upon　his　retirement　from　service　he　bought　a　library　en　bloc；　and；　not　knowing　any　more　about　books　than　a　peccary　knows　of　the　harmonies　of　the　heavenly　choir；　he　gave　orders　for　the　arrangement　of　the　volumes　in　this　wise：　　‘‘Range　me；''　he　quoth；　‘‘the　grenadiers　（folios）　at　the　bottom；　the　battalion　（octavos）　in　the　middle；　and　the　light…bobs　（duodecimos）　at　the　top！''

Samuel　Johnson；　dancing　attendance　upon　Lord　Chesterfield；　could　hardly　have　felt　his　humiliation　more　keenly　than　did　the　historian　Gibbon　when　his　grace　the　Duke　of　Cumberland　met　him　bringing　the　third　volume　of　his　‘‘Decline　and　Fall　of　the　Roman　Empire''　to　the　ducal　mansion。　　This　history　was　originally　printed　in　quarto；　Gibbon　was　carrying　the　volume　and　anticipating　the　joy　of　the　duke　upon　its　arrival。　　What　did　the　duke　say？　　‘‘What？''　he　cried。　　‘‘Ah；　another　　big　square　book；　eh？''

It　is　the　fashion　nowadays　to　harp　upon　the　degeneracy　of　humanity；　to　insist　that　taste　is　corrupted；　and　that　the　faculty　of　appreciation　is　dead。　　We　seem　incapable　of　realizing　that　this　is　the　golden　age　of　authors；　if　not　the　golden　age　of　authorship。

In　the　good　old　days　authors　were　in　fact　a　despised　and　neglected　class。　　The　Greeks　put　them　to　death；　as　the　humor　seized　them。　　For　a　hundred　years　after　his　death　Shakespeare　was　practically　unknown　to　his　countrymen；　except　Suckling　and　his　coterie：　during　his　life　he　was　roundly　assailed　by　his　contemporaries；　one　of　the　latter　going　to　the　extreme　of　denouncing　him　as　a　daw　that　strutted　in　borrowed　plumage。　　Milton　was　accused　of　plagiarism；　and　one　of　his　critics　devoted　many　years　to　compiling　　from　every　quarter　passages　in　ancient　works　which　bore　a　similarity　to　the　blind　poet's　verses。　　Even　Samuel　Johnson's　satire　of　‘‘London''　was　pronounced　a　plagiarism。

The　good　old　days　were　the　days；　seemingly；　when　the　critics　had　their　way　and　ran　things　with　a　high　hand；　they　made　or　unmade　books　and　authors。　　They　killed　Chatterton；　just　as；　some　years　later；　they　hastened　the　death　of　Keats。　　For　a　time　they　were　all…powerful。　　It　was　not　until　the　end　of　the　eighteenth　century　that　these　professional　tyrants　began　to　lose　their　grip；　and　when　Byron　took　up　the　lance　against　them　their　doom　was　practically　sealed。

Who　would　care　a　picayune　in　these　degenerate　days　what　Dr。　Warburton　said　pro　or　con　a　book？　　It　was　Warburton　（then　Bishop　of　Gloucester）　who　remarked　of　Granger's　‘‘Biographical　History　of　England''　that　it　was　‘‘an　odd　one。''　　This　was　as　high　a　compliment　as　he　ever　paid　a　book；　those　which　he　did　not　like　he　called　sad　books；　and　those　which　he　fancied　he　called　odd　ones。

The　truth　seems　to　be　that　through　the　　diffusion　of　knowledge　and　the　multiplicity　and　cheapness　of　books　people　generally　have　reached　the　point　in　intelligence　where　they　feel　warranted　in　assertin