WILLIAM' AND ANNE HABBERLEY IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM C. HABBERLEY I IN THE TRACK OF THE BOOK- WORM 0\ by Irving Browne : thoughts, fancies and gentle gibes on Collecting and Collectors^ by one of them, ^g DONE INTO A BOOK AT THE ROYCROFT PRINTING SHOP AT EAST AURORA, NEW YORK, U. S. A. MDCCCXCVII Copyrighted by The Roycroft Printing Shop 1897 Of this edition but five hundred and ninety copies were printed and types then distributed. Each copy is signed and numbered and this book is number / J 9 CHAPTERS. * 1. Objects of Collection g 2. Who Have Collected n 3. Diverse Tastes 18 4. The Size of Books 21 5. Binding 25 6. Paper 32 7. Women as Collectors 36 8. The Illustrator 47 9. Book-Plates 66 10. The Book-Auctioneer 73 11. The Book-Seller 77 12. The Public Librarian 84 13. Does Book Collecting Pay 88 14. The Book- Worm's Faults 93 15. Poverty as a Means of Enjoyment 103 16. The Arrangement of Books 105 17. Enemies of Books 108 18. Library Companions 121 19. The Friendship of Books 133 BALLADS. 1. How a Bibliomaniac Binds his Books 26 2. The Bibliomaniac's Assignment of Binders 28 3. The Failing Books 33 4. Suiting Paper to Subject 34 5. The Sentimental Chambermaid 37 6. A Woman's Idea of a Library 42 7. The Shy Portraits 54 8. The Snatchers 71 9. The Stolid Auctioneer 75 10. The Prophetic Book 80 11. The Book-Seller 82 12. The Public Librarian 85 13. The Book- Worm does not care for Nature 97 14. How I go A-Fishing 99 15. The Book-Thief in 16. The Smoke Traveler 112 17. The Fire in the Library 116 18. Cleaning the Library 117 19. Ode to Omar 119 20. My Dog 121 21. My Clocks 123 22. A Portrait 125 23. My Schoolmate 126 24. My Shingle 129 25. Solitaire 130 26. My Friends the Books 133 |O BOOK- WORMS all, of high or low degree, Whate'er of madness be their stages, And just as well unknown as known to me, I dedicate these trifling pages, In hope that when they turn them o'er They will not find the Track a bore. X -. v . The Track of the Book- Worm. i. OBJECTS OF COLLECTION. HILOSOPHERS have made vari- ous and ingenious but incomplete attempts to form a succinct defini- tion of the animal, Man. At first thought it might seem that a per- fect definition would be, an animal who makes collections. But one must remember that the magpie does this. Yet this definition is as good as any, and comes nearer exactness than most '*%& What has not the animal Man collected? Clocks, watches, snuff-boxes, canes, fans, laces, precious stones, china, coins, paper money, spoons, prints, paintings, tulips, orchids, hens, horses, match-boxes, postal stamps, miniatures, violins, show-bills, play-bills, swords, but- tons, shoes, china slippers, spools, birds, butterflies, beetles, saddles, skulls, wigs, lanterns, book-plates, knockers, crystal balls, shells, penny toys, death-masks, tea-pots, auto- graphs, rugs, armour, pipes, arrow heads, locks of hair and key locks, and hats (Jules Verne's " Tale T3?orm ^ a Hat"), these are some of the most prominent subjects in search of which the animal Man runs up and down the earth, and spends time and money without scruple or stint ti But all these curious ob- jects of search fall into insignificance when compared with the ancient, noble and useful passion for col- lecting books. One of the wisest of the human race said, the only earthly immortality is in writing a book ; and the desire to accumulate these evidences of earthly immortality needs no defense among cul- tivated men. zo II. WHO HAVE COLLECTED BOOKS. |HE mania for book-collecting is by no means a modern dis- |ease,but has existed ever since there were books to gather, and has infected many of the wisest and most potent names in history. Euripides is ridi- culed by Aristophanes in "The I Frogs " for collecting books. Of the Roman emperor, Gordian, who flourished (or rather did not flourish, because he was slain after a reign of thirty-six days) in the third century, Gib- bon says, " twenty-two acknowledged concubines and a library of sixty thousand volumes attested the variety of his inclinations." This combination of ux- orious and literary tastes seems to have existed in another monarch of a later period Henry VIII. the seeming disproportion of whose expenditure of 10,800 pounds for jewels in three years, during which he spent but 100 pounds for books and binding, is ex- plained by the fact that he was indebted for the con- tents of his libraries to the plunder of monasteries. Henry printed a few copies of his book against Luther on vellum **%&& Cicero, who possessed a superb li- brary, especially rich in Greek, at his villa in Tuscu- lum, thus describes his favorite acquisitions : " Books to quicken the intelligence of youth, delight age, dec- xx orate prosperity, shelter and solace us in adversity, bring enjoyment at home, befriend us out-of-doors, pass the night with us, travel with us, go into the country with us." jETRARCH, who collected books not sim- 'ply for his own gratification, but aspired to become the founder of a permanent li- brary at Venice, gave his books to the Church of St. Mark ; but the greater part of them perished through neglect, and only a small part re- mains. Boccaccio, anticipating an early death, offered his library to Petrarch, his dear friend, on his own terms, to insure its preservation, and the poet prom- ised to care for the collection in case he survived Boccaccio; but the latter, outliving Petrarch, be- queathed his books to the Augustinians of Florence, and some of them are still shown to visitors in the Laurentinian Library. From Boccaccio's own ac- count of his collection, one must believe his books quite inappropriate for a monastic library, and the good monks probably instituted an auto da fe for most of them, like that which befell the knightly ro- mances in " Don Quixote." Perhaps the naughty story-teller intended the donation as a covert satire. The walls of the room which formerly contained Montaigne's books, and is at this day exhibited to pilgrims, are covered with inscriptions burnt in with branding-irons on the beams and rafters by the ec- centric and delightful essayist *$&. The author of " Ivanhoe " adorned his magnificent library with la suits of superb armor, and luxuriated in demonology and witchcraft. The caustic Swift was in the habit of annotating his books, and writing on the fly-leaves a summary opinion of the author's merits ; whatever else he had, he owned no Shakespeare, nor can any reference to him be found in the nineteen volumes of Swift's works. Military men seem always to have had a passion for books. To say nothing of the literary and rhetorical tastes of Caesar, "the foremost man of all time," Frederick the Great had libraries at Sans Souci, Potsdam, and Berlin, in which he arranged the volumes by classes without regard to size. Thick volumes he rebound in sections for more convenient use, and his favorite French authors he sometimes caused to be reprinted in compact editions to his taste. The great Conde inherited a valuable library from his father, and enlarged and loved it. Marlbor- ough had twenty-five books on vellum, all earlier than 1496. The hard-fighting Junot had a vellum li- brary which sold in London for 1,400 pounds, while his great master was not too busy in conquering Europe not only to solace himself in his permanent libraries, and in books which he carried with him in his expeditions, but to project and actually commence the printing of a camp library of duodecimo volumes, without margins, and in thin covers, to embrace some three thousand volumes, and which he had de- signed to complete in six years by employing one hundred and twenty compositors and twenty-five editors, at an outlay of about 163,000 pounds s& St. 13 Helena destroyed this scheme. It is curious to note that Na P leon despised Voltaire as heartily as Fred- erick admired him, but gave Fielding and Le Sage places among his traveling companions ; while the Bibliomaniac appears in his direction to his librarian : 11 I will have fine editions and handsome bindings. I am rich enough for that." $> The main thing that shakes one's confidence in the correctness of his lit- erary taste is that he was fond of " Ossian." Julius Caesar also formed a traveling library of forty-four little volumes, contained in an oak case measuring 16 by ii by 3 inches, covered with leather. The books are bound in white vellum, and consist of history, philosophy, theology, and poetry, in Greek and Latin. The collector was Sir Julius Caesar, of England, and this exquisite and unique collection is in the British Museum. The books were all printed between 1591 and 1616 MWT HJTHEY brought together fourteen (thousand volumes, the most valuable :ollection which had up to that time been [acquired by any man whose means and estate lay, as he once said of himself, in his inkstand. Time fails me to speak of Erasmus, De Thou, Grotius, Goethe, Bodley; Hans Sloane, whose private library of fifty thousand volumes was the beginning of that of the British Museum ; the Cardinal Borromeo, who founded the Ambrosian Library at Milan with his own forty thousand volumes, and the other great names entitled to the description of Bibliomaniac. We must not forget Sir Richard Whittington, of fe- line fame, who gave 400 pounds to found the library of Christ's Hospital, London (&, The fair sex, good and bad, have been lovers of books or founders of libraries ; witness the distinguished names of Lady Jane Gray, Catherine De Medicis, and Diane de Poictiers. ONLY remains to speak of the great opium- eater, who was a sort of literary ghoul, famed for borrowing books and never returning them, and whose library was thus made up of the enforced contributions of friends for who would have dared refuse the loan of a book to Thomas de Quincey ? The name of the unhappy man would have descended to us with that of the incen- diary of the Temple of Diana at Ephesus. But the great Thomas was recklessly careless and slovenly in his use of books; and Burton, in the " Book-hun- ter," tells us that " he once gave in copy written on the edges of a tall octavo ' Somnium Scipionis,' and as he did not obliterate the original matter, the printer was rather puzzled, and made a funny jum- ble between the letter-press Latin and the manu- script English." $> I seriously fear that with him must be ranked the gentle Elia, who said : " A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us that we know the topography of its blots and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins, or over a pipe, which I think is the maximum." And yet a 15 - great degree of slovenliness may be excused in Charles because, according to Leigh Hunt, he once gave a kiss to an old folio Chapman's " Homer," and when asked how he knew his books one from the other, for hardly any were lettered, he answered : " How does a shepherd know his sheep?" ^ The love of books displayed by the sensual Henry and the pugnacious Junot is not more remarkable than that of the epicurean and sumptuous Lucullus, to whom Pompey, when sick, having been directed by his physician to eat a thrush for dinner, and learn- ing from his servants that in summer-time thrushes were not to be found anywhere but in Lucullus' fat- tening coops, refused to be indebted for his meal, observing : " So if Lucullus had not been an epicure, Pompey had not lived." Of him the veracious Plu- tarch says : " His furnishing a library, however, de- served praise and record, for he collected very many and choice manuscripts ; and the use they were put to was even more magnificent than the purchase, the library being always open, and the walks and read- ing rooms about it free to all Greeks, whose delight it was to leave their other occupations and hasten thither as to the habitation of the Muses." 'T IS not recorded that Socrates collected books his wife probably objected but we have his word for it that he loved them. He did not love the country, and the only thing that could tempt him thither was a book. Acknowl- edging this to Phaedrus he says : 16 "Very true, my good friend; and I hope that you ^,- will excuse me when you hear the reason, which is, that I am a lover of knowledge, and the men who dwell in the city are my teachers, and not the trees or the country. Though I do indeed believe that you have found a spell with which to draw me out of the city into the country, like a hungry cow before whom a bough or a bunch of fruit is waved. For only hold up before me in like manner a book, and you may lead me all round Attica, and over the wide world. And now hav- ing arrived, I intend to lie down, and do you choose any pos- ture in which you can read best." III. DIVERSE TASTES. T IS fortunate for the harmony of book-col- lectors that they do not all desire the same thing, just as it was fortunate for their young State that all the Romans did not want the same Sabine woman. Otherwise the Helenic battle of the books would be fiercer than it is. Thus there are bibliomaniacs who reprint rare books from their own libraries in limited numbers ; au- thors, like Walpole, who print their own works, and whose fame as printers is better deserved than their reputation as writers ; like Thackeray, who design the illustrations for their own romances, or, like Astor, who procure a single copy of their novel to be illustrated at lavish expense by artists ; amateurs who bind their own books ; lunatics who yearn for books wholly engraved, or printed only on one side of the leaf, or Greek books wholly in capitals, or others in the italic letter ; or black-letter fanciers ; or tall copy men ; or rubricists, missal men, or first edi- tion men, or incunabulists "^V One seeks only ancient books ; another limited edi- tions; another those privately printed; a fourth wants nothing but presentation copies ; yet another only those that have belonged to famous men, and still another illustrated or illuminated books. There is a perfectly rabid and incurable class, of whom the most harmless are devoted to pamphlets ; another, 18 rather more dangerous, to incorrect or suppressed editions ; and a third, stark mad, to play-bills and portraits. One patronizes the drama, one poetry, one the fine arts, another books about books and their collectors ; and a very recherche class devote them- selves to works on playing-cards, angling, magic, or chess, emblems, dances of death, or the jest books and facetiae i Finally, there are those unhappy be- ings who run up and down for duplicates, searching for every edition of their favorite authors. In very recent days there has arisen a large class who de- mand the first editions of popular novelists like Dick- ens, Thackeray and Hawthorne, and will pay large prices for these issues which have no value except that of rarity. I can quite understand the enthusiasm of the collector over the beautiful first editions of the Greek and Latin classics, or for the first " Paradise Lost," or even for the ugly first folio " Shakespeare," and why he should prefer the comparatively rude first Walton's Angler to Pickering's edi- tion, the handsomest of this century, with its monumental title page. But why a first edition of a popular novel should be more desirable than a late one, which is usually the more ele- gant, I confess I cannot understand. It is one of those things which, like, the mystery of religion, we must take on trust. So when a bookseller tells me that a copy of the first issue Worm of "The Scarlet Letter" has sold for seventy-five dollars, and that a copy of the second, with the same date but put out six months later, is worth only seventy-five cents, I open my eyes but not my purse, especially when I consider that the second is great- ly superior to the first on account of its famous pre- face of apology, and when I read of some one's bidding $1875 for a copy of Poe's worth- less " Tamerlane," I am flattered by the reflection that there is one man in the world whom I believe to be eighteen hundred and seventy-five times as great a fool as I am ! - 20 IV. THE SIZE OF BOOKS. ERE I a despotic ruler of the universe I would make it a se- Tious offense to publish a book larger than royal octavo. Books should be made to read, or at all events to look at, and in this dew comfort and ease should be consulted. Any one who has ever undertaken to read a huge quarto or folio will sympathize with this view. The older and lazier the Book- Worm grows the more he longs for little books, which he can hold in one hand without getting a cramp, or at least support with arms in an elbow chair without fatigue. Darwin remorselessly split big books in two. Mr. Slater says in " Book Collecting: " "When the library at Sion College took fire the at- tendants, at the risk of their lives, rescued a pile of books from the flames, and it is said that the libra- rian wept when he found that the porters had taken it for granted that the value of a book was in exact proportion to its size." Few of us, I suspect, ever read our family Bible, and all of us probably groan when we lift out the unabridged dictionary. The "Cen- tury Dictionary " is a luxury because it is published in small and convenient parts. I cannot conceive any good in a big book except that the ladies may use it to press flowers or mosses in, or the nurses may put 21 it in a chair to sit the baby on at table. I have heard ^ a g en tl eman who inherited a mass of folio volumes and arranged them as shelves for his smaller treas- ures, and of another who arranged his i2-mos on a stand made up of the seventeen volumes of Pinker- ton's " Voyages " and Denon's "Egypt " for shelves. What reader would not prefer a dainty little Elzevir to the huge folio, Caesar's "Commentaries," even with the big bull in it, and the wicker idol full of burning human victims ? What can be more pleasing than the modern Quantin edition of the classics ? Or, to speak of a popular book, take the " Pastels in Prose," the most exquisite book for the price ever known in the history of printing J- The small book ought how- ever to be easily legible. The health and comfort of the human eye should be consulted in the size of the type. Nothing can be worse in this regard than the Pickering diamond classics, if meant to be read ; and it seems that there are too many of them to be in- tended as mere curiosities of printing. Let us approve the exit of the folio and the quarto, and applaud the modern tendency toward little and handy volumes. Large paper however is a worthy distinction when the subject is worth the distinction and the edition is not too large. Nothing raises the gorge of the true Book- Worm more than to see an issue on large paper of a row of histories, for example ; and the very worst instance conceivable was a large paper Webster's " Unabridged Dictionary " issued some years ago. The book thus distinguished ought to be a classic, or pe- 22 culiar for elegance, never a series, or stereotyped, the first struck off, and the issue ought not to be more than from fifty to one hundred copies ; any larger is- sue is not worth the extra margin bestowed, and no experienced buyer will tolerate it *3^ But if all these conditions are observed, the large paper copies bear the same relation to the small that a proof before letters of a print holds to the other impres- sions. Large margins are very pleasant in a library as well as in Wall Street, and much more apt to be per- manent. There are some favorite books of which the possessor longs in vain for a large copy, as for in- stance, the Pickering "Walton and Cotton." GREAT deal of fun is made of the Book- Worm because of his desire for large pa- per and of his insistence on uncut edges, but his reasons are sound and his taste is unimpeachable. The tricks of the book-trade to catch the inexperienced with the bait of large paper are very amusing. " Strictly limited" to so many copies for England and so many for America, say a thousand in all, or else the number is not stated, and always described as an edition de luxe, and its looks are always very repulsive. But the bait is eagerly bitten at by a shoal of beings anxious to get one of these rarities a class to one of whom I once found it necessary to explain that " uncut edges " does not mean leaves not cut open, and that he would not in- jure the value of his book by being able to read it, and was not bound to peep in surreptitiously like a 23 maid-servant at a door " on the jar." I once knew a OBoo8 x satirical Book- Worm who issued a pamphlet, " one ^ hundred copies on large paper, none on small." There is no just distinction in an ugly large-paper issue, and sometimes it is not nearly so beautiful as the small, especially when the latter has uncut edges. The in- dependence of the collector who prefers the small in such circumstances is to be commended and imitated. Too great inequality in uncut edges is also to be shunned as an ugliness. It seems that some French books are printed on pa- per of two different sizes, the effect of which is very grotesque, and the device is a catering to a very crude and extravagant taste. V. BINDING. HE binding of books for sev- Worm eral centuries has held the dignity of a fine art, quite in- dependent of printing. This has been demonstrated by ex- hibitions in this country and abroad. But every collector ought to observe fitness in the Jbinding which he procures to be executed. True fitness prevails in most old and fine bindings; seldom was a costly garb bestowed on a book unworthy of it. But in many a luxurious libra- ry we see a modern binding fit for a unique or rare book given to one that is comparatively worthless or common. Not to speak of bindings that are real works of art, many collectors go astray in dressing lumber in purple and fine linen putting full levant morocco on blockhead histories and such stuff that perishes in the not using. It is a sad spectacle to behold a unique binding wasted on a book of no more value than a backgammon board. There are of course not a great many of us who can afford unique bindings, but those who cannot should at least observe pro- priety and fitness in this regard, and draw the line severely between full dress and demi-toilette, and keep a sharp eye to appropriateness of color. I have known several men "who bound their books all alike. 25 Nothing could be worse except one who should bind $$oo& particular subjects in special styles, pace Mr. Ell- wanger, who, in "The Story of My House," advises the Book-Worm to " bind the poets in yellow or or- ange, books on nature in olive, the philosophers in blue, the French classics in red," etc. I am curious to know what color this pleasant writer would adopt for the binding of his books by military men, such for example as " Major Walpole's Anecdotes." (p. MBROSE FERMIN DIDOT # recom- mended binding the "Iliad" in red and the "Odyssey" in blue, for the Greek rhapso- dists wore a scarlet cloak when they re- cited the former and a blue one when they recited the latter. The churchmen he would clothe in violet, car- dinals in scarlet, philosophers in black **& I have imagined HOW A BIBLIOMANIAC BINDS HIS BOOKS. |'d like my favorite books to bind So that their outward dress To every bibliomaniac's mind Their contents should express. Napoleon's life should glare in red, John Calvin's gloom in blue ; Thus they would typify bloodshed And sour religion's hue. The prize-ring record of the past 26 Must be in blue and black; While any color that is fast Would do for Derby track. The Popes in scarlet well may go ; In jealous green, Othello; In gray, Old Age of Cicero, And London Cries in yellow. My Walton should his gentle art In Salmon best express, And Penn and Fox the friendly heart In quiet drab confess. Statistics of the lumber trade Should be embraced in boards, While muslin for the inspired Maid A fitting garb affords. Intestine wars I'd clothe in vellum, While pig-skin Bacon grasps, And flat romances, such as " Pelham," Should stand in calf with clasps. Blind-tooled should be blank verse and rhyme Of Homer and of Milton ; But Newgate Calendar of Crime I'd lavishly dab gilt on. The edges of a sculptor's life May fitly marbled be, But sprinkle not, for fear of strife, A Baptist history. 27 Crimea's warlike facts and dates Of fragrant Russia smell ; The subjugated Barbary States In crushed Morocco dwell. But oh ! that one I hold so dear Should be arrayed so cheap Gives me a qualm ; I sadly fear My Lamb must be half-sheep. No doubt a Book-Worm so far gone as this could in- vent stricter analogies and make even the binder fit the book ^^ So we should have THE BIBLIOMANIAC'S ASSIGNMENT OF BINDERS. |f I could bring the dead to day, I would your soul with wonder fill By pointing out a novel way For bibliopegistic skill. My Walton, Trautz should take in hand, Or else I'd give him o'er to Hering; Matthews should make the Gospels stand A solemn warning to the erring. The history of the Inquisition, With all its diabolic train Of cruelty and superstition, Should fitly be arrayed by Payne. A book of dreams by Bedford clad, A Papal history by De Rome, 28 Should make the sense of fitness glad In every bibliomaniac's home. As our first mother's folly cost Her sex so dear, and makes men grieve, So Milton's plaint of Eden lost Would be appropriate to Eve. Hayday would make " One Summer" be Doubly attractive to the view ; While General Wolfe's biography Should be the work of Pasdeloup. For lives of dwarfs, like Thomas Thumb, Petit's the man by nature made, And when Munchasen strikes us dumb It is by means of Gascon aid. Thus would I the great binders blend In harmony with work before 'em, And so Riviere I would commend To Turner's " Liber Fluviorum." After all, whether one can afford a three-hundred or a three-dollar binding, the gentle Elia has said the last word about fitness of bindings when he observed : " To be strong-backed and neat-bound is the desider- atum of a volume ; magnificence comes after. This, when it can be afforded, is not to be lavished on all kinds of books indiscriminately JJ " Where we know that a book is at once both good and rare where the individual is almost the species, 29 * We know not where is that Prometian torch $008; That can its light relumine ; ' Such a book for instance as the ' Life of the Duke of Newcastle' by his Duchess no casket is rich enough, no casing sufficiently durable, to honor and keep safe such a jewel *<&) " To view a well arranged assortment of block-head- ed encyclopaedias (Anglicanaor Metropolitanas), set out in an array of Russia and Morocco, when a tithe of that good leather would comfortably reclothe my shivering folios, would renovate Parcelsus himself, and enable old Raymond Lully to look like himself again in the world. I never see these impostors but I long to strip them and warm my ragged veterans in their spoils." IHERE spoke the true Book- Worm. What a pity he could not have sold a part of his |good sense and fine taste to some of the iffluent collectors of this period ! Doubtless an experienced binder could give some amusing examples of mistakes in indorsing books with their names. One remains in my memory. A French binder, entrusted with a French translation of " Uncle Tom's Cabin," in two volumes, put " L' Oncle " on both, and numbered them "Tome i," " Tome 2." Charles Cowden-Clarke tells of his having ordered Leigh Hunt's poems entitled ' Foli- age " to be bound in green, and how the book came home in blue. That would answer for the " blue 30 grass " region of Kentucky. I have no patience with those disgusting realists who bind books in human or snake skin. In his charming book on the Law Re- ^> "Ah, that our wives could only see How well the money is invested In these old books, which seem to be By them, alas ! so much detested." But the wives are not always unwise in their opposi- tion to their husband's book-buying. There is nothing more pitiful than to see the widow of a poor clergyman or lawyer trying to sell his library, and to witness her disappointment at the j?n shrinkage of value which she had been taught and accustomed to regard as so 45 great. A woman who has a true and wise sympa- thy with her husband's book-buying is an adored ob- ^ ect " I recollect one such, who at her own sug- gestion gave up the largest and best room in her house to her husband's books, and received her callers and guests in a smaller one she also re- ceived her husband's blessing. THE VIII. ILLUSTRATOR. iHE popular notion of the II- (lustrator, as the term is used >y the Book- Worm, is that he >uys many valuable books [containing pictures and spoils lem by tearing the pictures lout, and from them constructs (another valuable book with >i<5lures. We smile to read this in the newspapers. If it were strictly true it would be a very reprehensible practice. But gener- ally the books compelled to surrender their prints to the Illustrator are good for nothing else. To lament over them is as foolish as to grieve over the grape- skins out of which has been pressed the luscious Jo- hannisburger, or to mourn over the unsightly holes which the porcelain-potter has made in the clay-bank. Even among Book- Worms the Illustrator, or the " Grangerite," as the term of reproach is, has come in for many hard knocks in recent years. John Hill Bur- ton set the tune by his merry satire in "The Book- Hunter," in which he portrays the Grangerite illus- trating the pious Watts' stanzas, beginning, " How doth the little busy bee." In his first edition Mr. Bur- ton mentioned among "great writers on bees," whose portrait would be desirable, Aristarchus, pi meaning probably Aristomachus. This mistake is not 47 &00& TBorm #008; corrected in the last edition, but the name is omitted alt g ether y& ^ r * Beverly Chew "drops into poetry" on the sub- ject, and thus apostrophises the Grangerite : "Ah, ruthless wight, Think of the books you've turned to waste, With patient skill." R. HENRI PERE DU BOIS thus describes the ordinary result: "Of one hundred books extended by the inser- tion of prints "which were not made for them, ninety-nine are ruined ; ^ the hundredth book is no longer a book ; it is a museum. An imperfect book, built with the spoils of a thousand books ; a crazy quilt made of patches out of gowns of queens and scullions." So Burton compares the Grangerite to Genghis Kahn. Mr. Lang declares the Grangerites are " book ghouls, and brood, like the obscene demons of Arabian su- perstition, over the fragments of the mighty dead." I would like to show Mr. Lang how I have treated his " Letters to Dead Authors " and " Old Friends " by illustration. He would probably feel, with ^flEsop's lawyer, that "circumstances alter cases," although he says " no book deserves the honor " fy So a reviewer in " The Nation" stigmatises Grang- erism as " a vampire art, maiming when it does not murder" (I did not know that vampires "maim" their victims) " and incapable of rising beyond cani- balism " (not that they feed on one another, but when critics get excited their metaphors are apt to become mixed) ^^ G. W. S.," of the New York Tribune," speaks of the achievement of the Illustrators as " colossal vul- garities." Mr. Percy Fitzgerald observes: "The pitiless Grangerite slaughters a book for a few pic- tures, just as an epicure has had a sheep killed for the sweetbread"^ HESE are very choice hard words. There is much extravagance, but some justice in all this criticism. As a question of econom- ics I do not find any great difference be- tween a Book- Worm who spends thousands of dol- lars in constructing one attractive book from several not attractive, and one who spends a thousand dol- lars in binding a book, or for an example of a famous old binder. If there is any difference it is in favor of the Grangerite, who improves the volume for the in- telligent purposes of the reader, as against the other who merely caters to " the lust of the eye "^i I am willing to concede that the Grangerite is some- times guilty of some gross offenses against good taste and good sense. The worst of these is when he ex- tends the text of the volume itself to a larger page in order to embrace large prints. This is grotesque, for it spoils the very book. He is also blamable when he squanders valuable prints and time and patience on mere book lumber, such as long rows of histories ; and when he stuffs and crams his book ; and when 49 his pictures are not of the era of the events or of the time of life of the persons described ; and when they are too large or too small to be in just proportion to the printed page ; and when the book is so heavy and cumbersome that no one can handle it with comfort or convenience. Above all he is blamable, in my esti- mation, when he entrusts the selection of prints to an agent. Such agency is frequently very unsatisfactory, and at all events the Illustrator misses the sport of the hunt. Few men would entrust the furnishing or decorating of a house, the purchase of a horse, or the selection of a wife to a third person, and the delicate matter of choosing prints for a book is essentially one to be transacted in person. The danger of any other procedure in the case of a wife was illustrated by Cromwell's agency for Henry Eighth in the affair of Anne of Cleves, the " Flanders mare." ,UT when it is properly done, it seems to me that the very best thing the Book- Worm ever does is to illustrate his books, because (this insures his reading them, at least with his fingers. Not always, for a certain chronicler of collections of privately illustrated books in this coun- try narrates, how "relying upon the index" of a book, which he illustrated, he inserted a portrait of Sam Johnson, the famous, whereas " the text called for Sam Johnson, an eccentric dramatic writer," etc. His binder, he says, laughed at him for being igno- rant that there " two Sam Johnsons " (there are four in the biographical dictionaries, one of whom was an 50 early president of King's College in New York). But if done personally and conscientiously it is a means of valuable culture. As one of the oldest surviv- ors of the genus Illustrator in this country, I have thus assumed to offer an apology and defense for my much berated kind. And now let me make a few suggestions as to what seems to me the most suitable mode of the pursuit. (goo ILLUSTRATING there seem to be two methods, which may be described as the literal or realistic, and imaginative, 'he first consists simply in the insertion )f portraits, views and scenes appropri- ite to the text. A pleasing variety may >e imparted to this method by substitut- ing for a mere portrait a scene in the life >f the celebrity in question 3fr For ex- imple, if Charles V. and Titian are men- :ioned together, it would be interest- ing to insert a picture representing the listorical incident of the emperor picking ip and handing the artist a brush which he [had dropped and one will have an inter- esting hunt to find it. But I am more an adherent of the romantic school, which finds excellent play in the illustration of poetry. For example, in the poem, " En- nui," in "The Croakers," for the line, "The fiend, the fiend is on me still," I found, after a search of some years, a picture of an imp sitting on the breast of a man in bed with the gout. In the same stanza are the lines, " Like a cruel cat, [that sucks a child to death," and for this have a print from a children's maga- zine, of a cat squatting on the breast of a :hild in a cradle. Now I would like " a (Madagascar bat," which rhymes to "cat" in the poem. "And like a tom-cat dies by inches," is illustrated by a picture of a cat caught by the paw in a steel trap. " Simon " was " a gentleman of color," X. the favorite pastry cook and caterer of New York half a century ago before the days of Mr. Ward McAl- lister. "The Croaker" advises him to "buy an eye- glass and become a dandy and a gentleman." This is illustrated by a rare and fine print of a colored gen- tleman, dressed in breeches, silk stockings, and ruf- fled shirt, scanning an overdressed lady of African descent through an eye-glass. " The ups and downs of politics " is illustrated by a Cruikshank print, the upper part of which shows a party making an ascen- sion in a balloon and the lower part a party making a descent in a diving-bell, and entitled " the ups and downs of life." To illustrate the phrase, " seeing the elephant," take the print of Pyrrhus trying to fright- en his captive, Fabricus, by suddenly drawing the curtains of his tent and showing him an elephant with his trunk raised in a baggage-smashing attitude. For "The Croakers " there are apt illustrations also of the following queer subjects : Korah, Dathan and Abiram ; Miss Atropos, shut up your Scissors ; Alba- ny's two Steeples high in Air, Reading Cobbett's Reg- ister, Bony in His Prison Isle, Giant Wife, Beauty and The Beast, Fly Market, Tammany Hall, The Dove from Noah's Ark, Rome Saved by Geese, Cae- sar Offered a Crown, Caesar Crossing the Rubicon, Dick Ricker's Bust, Sancho in His Island Reigning, The Wisest of Wild Fowl, Reynold' Beer House, A 53 Mummy, A Chimney Sweep, The Arab's Wind, Pygmalion, Danae, Highland Chieftain with His Tail On, Nightmare, Shaking Quakers, Polony's Crazy Daughter, Bubble-Blowing, First Pair of Breeches, Banquo's Ghost, Press Gang, Fair Lady With the Bandaged Eye, A Warrior Leaning on His Sword, A Warrior's Tomb, A Duel, and A Street Flirtation. S THE charm of illustrating consists in the hunt for the prints, so the latter meth- od is the more engrossing because the game is the more difficult to run down. Portraits, views and scenes are plenty, but to find them properly adaptable is frequently difficult. Some things which one would suppose readily procurable are really hard to find. For example, it was a weary chase to get a treadmill, and so of a drum-major, al- though the latter is now not uncommon : and although I know it exists, I have not attained unto a bastina- do. Sirens and mermaids are rather retiring, and when Vedder depicted the Sea-Serpent he conferred a boon on Illustrators. " God's Scales," in which the mendicant weighs down the rich man, is a rarity. Milton leaving his card on Galileo in prison is among my wants, although I have seen it dffc As to scarce portraits, let me sing a song of THE SHY PORTRAITS. L, why do you elude me so Ye portraits that so long I've sought ? That somewhere ye exist, I know 54 Indifferent, good, and good for naught. Lucrezia, of the poisoned cup, (goo Why do you shrink away by stealth ? To view your " mug" with you I'd sup, And even dare to drink your health. Oh ! why so coy, Godiva fair ? You're covered by your shining tresses, And I would promise not to stare At sheerest of go-diving dresses. Come out, old Bluebeard ; don't be shy ! You're not so bad as Froude's great hero; Xantippe, fear no law gone by When scolds were ducked in ponds at zero. Not mealy-mouthed was Mrs. Behn, And prudish was satiric Jane, But equally they both shun men, As if they bore the mark of Cain. George Barrington, you may return To country which you " left for good ; " Psalmanazar, I would not spurn Your language when 't was understood. Jean Grolier, you left many books They come so dear I must ignore 'em But there's no evidence of your looks For us surviving " amicorum." This country 's overrun by grangers 55 I'm ignorant of their Christian names But m y afflicted eyes are strangers *^ one * want whom men call James. There's Heber, man of many books You're far more modest than the Bishop ; I'm curious to learn your looks, And care for nothing shown at his shop. And oh ! that wondrous, pattern child ! His truthfulness, no one can match it; Dear little George ! I'm almost wild To find a wood-cut of his hatchet. Show forth your face, Anonymous, Whose name is in the books I con Most frequently ; so famous thus, Will you not come to me anon ? [Y way of jest I have inserted an anonymous portrait opposite an anonymous poem, and I was once gravely asked by an absent-minded I friend if it really was the portrait of the au- thor. One however will probably look in vain for por- traits of "Quatorze" and "Quinze," for which a print seller of New York once had an inquiry, and I have been told of a collector who returned Arlington be- cause of the cut on his nose, and Ogle because of his damaged eye. But there is more sport in hunting for a dodo than a rabbit \

But in this he is no worse than the Speaker. On the other hand he sometimes loads me up with a thing that I do not want, and in possession of which I would be unwilling to be found dead, pretending that I winked at him a species of imposition which it is impolitic to resent for fear of being entirely ignored. These discretionary favors are regarded as a practical joke and must not be declined^ But what I do com- plain of is his commercial stolidity, surpassing that of Charles Surface when he sold the portraits of his ancestors. The " bete noir " of the book trade is 74 THE STOLID AUCTIONEER. |ET not a sad ghost From the scribbling host Revisit this workaday sphere ; He'll find in the sequel All talents are equal When they come to the auctioneer. Not a whit cares he What the book may be, Whether missal with glorious show, A folio Shakespeare, Or an Elzevir, Or a Tupper, or E. P. Roe. Without any qualms He knocks down the Psalms, Or the chaste Imitatio, And takes the same pains To enhance his gains With a ribald Boccaccio. He rattles them off, Not stopping to cough, He shows no distinction of person ; One minute's enough For similar stuff Like Shelley and Ossian Macpherson. A Paradise Lost Is had for less cost Than a bulky " fifteener" in Greek, 75 And Addison's prose Q uite frequently goes t&orm For a tenth of a worthless " unique." This formula stale Of his will avail For an epitaph meet for his rank, When dropping his gavel He falls in the gravel, " Do I hear nothing more ? gone to ? I speak feelingly, but I think it is pardonable. I once went through an auction sale of my own books, and while I lost money on volumes on which I had be- stowed much thought, labor and expense, I made a profit on Gibbon's "Decline and Fall" in tree-calf. I do not complain of the loss ; what I was mor- tified by was the profit. But the auctioneer was not at all abashed; in fact he seemed rather pleased, and apparently re- garded it as a feather in his cap. I have always suspect- ed that the shameless purchaser was Si- las Wegg. XI. THE BOOKSELLER. (008; ONSIDERING his importance ,in modern civilization, it is sin- 'gular that so little has been re- corded of the Bookseller in liter- ature. Shakespeare has a great 'deal to say of books of various kinds, but not a word, I believe, of the Bookseller. It is true that Ursa Major gave a mitigated growl of applause to the booksellers, if I recollect my Boswell right, and he condescended to write a life of Cave, but bookseller in his view meant publish- er. It is true that Charles Knight wrote a book enti- tled " Shadows of the Old Booksellers," but here too the characters were mainly publishers, and his ac- count of them is indeed shadowy. The chief thing that I recall about any of the booksellers thus cele- brated is that Tom Davies had "a pretty wife," which is probably the reason why Doctor Johnson thought Tom would better have stuck to the stage. So far as I know, the most vivid pen-pictures of book- sellers are those depicting the humble members of the craft, the curb-stone venders a$b They are much more picturesque than their more affluent brethren who are used to the luxury of a roof. Rummaging over the contents of an old stall, at a half book, half old iron shop in Ninety-four alley, 77 9* ONSIEUR UZANNE, who has $ reated of the elegancies of the Fan, the Muff, and the Umbrella, has more recently given the world a quite unique series of studies among the bookstalls and the quays of Paris " The Book Hunter in Paris "and this too one finds more entertaining than any account of Quaritch's or Putnam's shop would be MM* I must bear witness to the honesty and liberality of booksellers. When one considers the hundreds of catalogues from which he has ordered books at a venture, even from across the ocean, and how sel- dom he has been misled or disappointed in the re- leading from Wardour street to Soho, yesterday, I lit upon a ragged duodecimo, which has been the strange delight of my infancy ; the price demanded was sixpence, which the owner (a little squab duo- decimo of a character himself ) enforced with the as- surance that his own mother should not have it for a farthing less. On my demurring to this extraordi- nary assertion, the dirty little vender reinforced his assertion with a sort of oath, which seemed more than the occasion demanded. " And now," said he, " I have put my soul to it." Pressed by so solemn an asseveration, I could no longer resist a demand which seemed to set me, however unworthy, upon a level with his nearest relations ; and depositing a tester, I bore away the battered prize in triumph. Essays of Elia. 78 suit, one cannot subscribe to a belief in the dogma of total depravity. I remember some of my book- sellers with positive affection. They were such self- denying men to consent to part with their treasures at any price e$s And as a rule they are far more care- less than ordinary merchants about getting or secur- ing their pay jb To be sure it is rather ignoble for the painter of a picture, or the chiseller of a statue, or the vender of a fine book, to affect the acuteness of tradesmen in the matter of compensation. The ex- cellent bookseller takes it for granted, if he stoops to think about it, that if a man orders a Caxton or a Grolier he will pay for it, at his convenience. It was this unthinking liberality which led a New York bookseller to give credit to a distinguished person afterwards a candidate for the Presidency to a con- siderable amount, and to let the account stand until it was outlawed, and his sensibilities were greviously shocked, when being compelled to sue for his due, his debtor pleaded the statute of limitations! His faith was not restored even when the acute buyer left a great sum of money by his will to found a pub- lic library, and the legacy failed through informality. HAVE only one complaint to make against ooksellers. They should teach their clerks to ecognize The Book- Worm at a glance ^ It is ery annoying, when I go browsing around a ook-shop, to have an attendant come up and sk me, who have bought books for thirty years, if he can "show me anything" just as if I 79 wanted to see anything in particular or if " anybody flBoofc ^ waiting on me " wh en all I desire is to be let & alone. Some booksellers, I am convinced, have this art of recognition, for they let me alone, and I make it a rule always to buy something of them, but never when their employees are so annoyingly attentive. I do not object to being watched; it is only the im- plication that I need any assistance that offends me. It is easy to recognize the Book- Worm at a glance by the care with which he handles the rare books and the indifference with which he passes the stand- ard authors in holiday bindings. NCE I had a bookseller who had a talent for drawing, which he used to exercise occasionally on the exterior an express package of books. One of these wrappings I have preserved, exhibiting a pen-and-ink drawing of a war-ship firing a big gun at a few small birds. Perhaps this was satirically intended to denote the pains and time he had expended on so small a sale. But I will now immortalize him **^ The most striking picture of a bookseller that I recall in all literature is one drawn by M. Uzanne, in the charming book mentioned above, which I will en- deavor to transmute and transmit under the title of THE PROPHETIC BOOK. |A CROIX," said the Emperor, "cease to be- guile ; These bookstalls must go from my bridges and quays; 80 No longer shall tradesmen my city defile With mouldering hideous scarecrows like these." While walking that night with the bibliophile, On the Quai Malaquais by the Rue de Saints Peres, The Emperor saw, with satirical smile, Enkindling his stove, in the chill evening air, With leaves which he tore from a tome by his side, A bookseller ancient, with tremulous hands ; And laying aside his imperial pride, " What book are you burning?" the Emperor de- mands. For answer Pere Foy handed over the book, And there as the headlines saluted his glance, Napoleon read, with a stupefied look, " Account of the Conquests and Victories of France." The dreamer imperial swallowed his ire ; Pere Foy still remained at his musty old stand, Till France was environed by sword and by fire, And Germans like locusts devoured the land. HJBTLESS the occupation of bookseller generally regarded as a very pleasant as rell as a refined one. But there is another (side, in the estimation of a true Book- Worm, and it is not agreeable to him to contemplate the life of 81 THE BOOK-SELLER. E STANDS surrounded by rare tomes Which find with him their transient homes, He knows their fragrant covers ; He keeps them but a week or two, Surrenders then their charming view To bibliomaniac lovers. An enviable man, you say, To own such wares if but a day, And handle, see and smell ; But all the time his spirit shrinks, As wandering through his shop he thinks He only keeps to sell. The man who buys from him retains His purchase long as life remains, And then he doesn't mind If his unbookish eager heirs, Administering his affairs, Shall throw them to the wind. Or if in life he sells, in sooth, 'Tis parting with a single tooth, A momentary pain ; Booksellers, like Sir Walter's Jew, Must this keen suffering renew, Again and yet again. And so we need not envy him Who sells us books, for stark and grim 82 Remains this torture deep. This Universalistic hell Throughout this life he's bound to sell ; He has, but cannot keep. Worm I I * * * 3&00& THE PUBLIC LIBRARIAN. RE is one species of the took- Worm which is more Ipitiable than the Bookseller, ,and that is the Public Libra- ian, especially of a circulating [library. He is condemned to live among great collections of books and exhibit them to Ithe curious public, and to be debarred from any proprietorship in them, even temporary. But the greater part this does not grieve a true Book- Worm, for he would scorn ownership of a vast majority of the books which he shows, but on the comparatively rare occasions when he is called on to produce a real book (in the sense of Bibliomania), he must be saddened by the reflection that it is not his own, and that the inspection of it is demanded of him as a matter of right $ I have often observed the ill concealed reluctance with which the librarian complies with such a request ; how he looks at the demandant with a degree of surprise, and then produces the key of the repository where the treas- ure is kept under guard, and heaving a sigh delivers the volume with a grudging hand. It was this char- acteristic which led me in my youth, before I had been inducted into the delights of Bibliomania and had learned to appreciate the feelings of a librarian, 84 to define him as one who conceives it to be his duty -j, to prevent the public from seeing the books. I owe a good old librarian an apology for having said this of him, and hereby offer my excuses to one whose honorable name is recorded in the Book of Life dfb Much is to be forgiven to the man who loves books, and yet is doomed to deal out books that perish in the using, which no human being would ever read a second time nor "be found dead with." These are the true tests of a good book, especially the last. Shelley died with a little /Eschylus on his person, which the cruel waves spared, and when Tennyson fell asleep it was with a Shakespeare, open at "Cymbe- line." One may be excused for reading a good deal that he never would re-read, but not for owning it, nor for owning a good deal which he would feel ashamed to have for his last earthly companion. But now for my tribute to THE PUBLIC LIBRARIAN. [IS books extend on every side, And up and down the vistas wide His eye can take them in ; He does not love these books at all, Their usefulness in big and small He counts as but a sin. And all day long he stands to serve The public with an aching nerve ; He views them with disdain 8s The student with his huge round glasses, The ma iden fresh from high school classes, Worm with a P athetic brain ; The sentimental woman lorn, The farmer recent from his corn, The boy who thirsts for fun, The graybeard with a patent-right, The pedagogue of school at night, The fiction-gulping one. They ask for histories, reports, Accounts of turf and prize-ring sports, The census of the nation ; Philosophy and science too, The fresh romances not a few, Also "Degeneration." " They call these books ! " he said, and throws Them down in careless heaps and rows Before the ticket-holder ; He'd like to cast them at his head, He wishes they might strike him dead, And with the reader moulder. But now as for the shrine of saint He seeks a spot whence sweet and faint A leathery smell exudes, And there behind the gilded wires For some loved rarity inquires Which common gaze eludes. 86 He wishes Omar would return That vulgar mob of books to burn, While he, like Virgil's hero, TQ00tm "Would shoulder off this precious case To some secluded private place With temperature at zero. And there in that Seraglio Of books not kept for public show, He'd feast his glowing eyes, Forgetting that these beauties rare, Morocco-clad and passing fair, Are but the Sultan's prize. But then a tantalizing sense Invades expectancy intense, And with extorted moan, " Unhappy man ! " he sighs, " condemned To show such treasure and to lend I keep, but cannot own ! " XIII. DOES BOOK COLLECTING PAY. E NOW come to the sordid but serious consideration whether books are a "good investment" in the financial sense db The mind of every true Book- Worm should revolt from this ques- tion, for none except a book- seller is pardonable for buying books with the design of selling them. Booksellers are a necessary evil, as purveyors for the Book- Worm ja I regard them as the old woman regarded the thirty-nine articles of faith ; when inquired of by her bishop what she thought of them, she said, " I don't know as I've anything against them." So I don't know that I have anything against booksellers, al- though I must concede that they generally have something against me. As no well regulated man ever grudges expense on the house that forms his home, or on its adornment, and rarely cares or even reflects whether he can get his money back, so it is with the true bibliomaniac A He never intends to part with his books any more than with his home- stead. Then again the use and enjoyment of books ought to count for something like interest on the capital invested. Many times, directly or indirectly, the use of a library is worth even more than the in- terest on the outlay. It is singular how expenditure 88 in books is regarded as an extravagance by the busi- ness world. One may spend the price of a fine library in fast or showy horses, or in travel, or in gluttony, TEorm or in stock speculations eventuating on the wrong side of his ledger, and the money-grubbing community think none the worse of him A But let him expend annually a few thousands in books, and these sons of Mammon pull long faces, wag their shallow heads, and sneeringly observe, " screw loose somewhere," " never get half what he has paid for them," " too much of a Book-Worm to be a sharp business man." A man who boldly bets on stocks in Wall Street is a gallant fellow, forsooth, and excites the admiration of the business community (especially of those who thrive on his losses) even when he " comes out at the little end of the horn." As Ruskin observes, we frequently hear of a bibliomaniac, never of a horse- maniac ^t It is said there is a private stable in Syra- cuse, New York, which has cost several hundred thousand dollars. The owner is regarded as perfect- ly sane and the building is viewed with great pride by the public, but if the owner had expended as much on a private library his neighbors would have thought him a lunatic. If a man in business wants to excite the suspicion of the sleek gentlemen who sit around the discount board with him, or yell like lunatics at the stock exchange with him, or talk with him about the tariff or free silver, or any other subject on which no two men ever agree unless it is for their interest, let it leak out that he has put a few thousand dollars 89 into a Mazarine Bible, or a Caxton, or a first folio Shakespeare or some other rare book j!i No matter if ke can afford i* most of his associates regard him as they do a Bedlamite who goes about collecting straws. Fortunate is he if his wife does not privately call on the family attorney and advise with him about putting a committee over the poor man. UT if we must regard book-buying in a money sense, and were to admit that books never sell for as much as they cost, it is no worse in respect to books than in respect to any other species of personal property., What chattel is there for which the buyer can get as much as he paid, even the next day? When it is proposed to transform the seller himself into the buyer of the same article, we find that the bull of yesterday is converted into the bear of to-day. Circumstances alter cases. I have bought a good many books and " objects of bigotry and virtue," and have sold some, and the nearest I ever came to getting as much as I paid was in the case of a rare print, the seller of which, after the lapse of several years, solicited me to let him have it again, at exactly what I paid for it, in order that he might sell it to some one else at an advance. I declined his offer with profuse thanks, and keep the picture as a curiosity *& So I should say, as a rule, that books are not a good financial investment in the business sense, and speak- ing of most books and most buyers dpi Give a man the same experience in buying books that renders 90 him expert in buying other personal property, the mere gross objects of trade, and let him set out with the purpose of accumulating a library that shall be a remunerative financial investment, and he may succeed, indeed, has often succeeded, certainly to the extent of getting back his outlay with interest, and sometimes making a handsome profit. But this needs experience ^b Just as one must build at least two houses before he can exactly suit himself, so he must collect two libraries before he can get one that will prove a fair investment in the vulgar sense of trade. DARE say that one will frequently pay more for a fine microscope or telescope than he can ever obtain for it if he desires or is pressed to sell it, but who would or should stop to think of that ? The power of prying into the myster- ies of the earth and the wonders of the heavens should raise one's thoughts above such petty con- siderations. So it should be in buying that which en- ables one to converse with Shakespeare or Milton or scan the works of Raphael or Durer. When the pio- neer on the western plains purchases an expensive rifle he does not inquire whether he can sell it for what it costs ; his purpose is to defend his house against Indians and other wild beasts. So the true book-buyer buys books to fight weariness, disgust, sorrow and despair ; to loose himself from the world and forget time and all its limitations and beset- ments. In this view they never cost too much. And so when asked if book-collecting pays, I retort by asking, does piety pay? "Honesty is the best policy " is the meanest of maxims. Honesty ought to be a principle and not a policy; and book-collecting ought to be a means of education, refine- ment and enjoyment, and not a mode of financial in- vestment. XIV. THE BOOK-WORM'S FAULTS. [HIS is not a case of " Snakes in Ice- jland," for the Book- Worm has faults. )ne of his faults is his proneness to igard books as mere merchandise and lot as vehicles of intellectual profit, that is to say, to be read. Too many my books simply for their rarity and with too little regard to the value of their contents jt The Circassian slave-dealer does not care whether his ijirls can talk sense or not, and too many men buy books with a similar disregard to their capacity for instructing or entertaining. It seems to me that a man who buys books which he does not read, and especially such as he cannot read, merely on ac- count of their value as merchandise, degrades the noble passion of bibliomania to the level of a trade ? When I go through such a library I think of what Christ said to the traders in the Temple. Another fault is his lack of independence and his tendency to imitate the recognized leaders. He is too prone to buy certain books simply because another has them, and thus even rare collections are apt to fall into a tire- some routine ft The collector who has a hobby and independence to ride it is admirable. Let him addict himself to some particular subject or era or " ana," and try to exhaust it, and before he is conscious he will have accumulated a collection precious for its 93 very singularity. It strikes me that the best example (goofb of this idea that I have ever heard of is the attempt, in which two collectors in this country are engaged, to acquire the first or at least one specimen of every one of the five hundred fifteenth century printers. If this should ever succeed, the great libraries of all the world would be eager for it, and the undertaking is sufficiently arduous to last a lifetime. OMETIMES out of this fault, sometimes independently of it, arises the fault by which book collecting degenerates into mere rivalry the vulgar desire of dis- play and ambition for a larger or rarer or costlier accumulation than one's neighbor has A The determination not to be outdone does not lend digni- ty or worth to the pursuit which would otherwise be commendable. During the late civil war in this coun- try the chaplain of a regiment informed his colonel, who was not a godly person, that there was a hope- ful revival of religion going on in a neighboring and rival regiment, and that forty men had been convert- ed and baptized. " Dashed if I will submit to that," said the swearing colonel : "Adjutant, detail fifty men for baptism instantly!" So Mr. Roe, hearing that Mr. Doe has acquired a Caxton or other rarity of a certain height, and absolutely flawless except that the corners of the last leaf have been skillfully mend- ed and that six leaves are slightly foxed, cannot rest 94 night or day for envy, but is like the troubled sea un- til he can find a copy a sixteenth of an inch taller, the corners of whose leaves are in their pristine in- tegrity, and over whose brilliant surface the smudge of the fox has not been cast, and then how high is his exaltation! Not that he cares anything for the book intrinsically, but he glories in having beaten Doe ^ Now if any speaks to him of Doe's remarka- ble copy, he can draw out his own and create a sur- prise in the bosom of Doe's adherent. The laurels of Miltiades no longer deprive him of rest. He has over- come in this trivial and childish strife concerning size and condition, and he holds the champion's belt for the present. He not only feels big himself but he has succeeded in making Doe feel small, which is still better. I don't know whether there will be any book- collecting in Mr. Bellamy's Utopia, but if there is, it will not be disfigured by such meanness, but collectors will go about striving to induce others to accept their superior copies and everything will be as lovely as in Heine's heaven, where geese fly around ready cooked, and if one treads on your corn it conveys a sensation of exquisite delight. HAS been several times remarked by moralists that human nature is selfish. One of course does not expect another to relin- iquish to him his place in a " queue" at a box-office or his turn at a barber's shop, but in the noble and elegant pursuit of book-collecting it would be well to emulate the politeness of the French at 95 Fontenoy, and hat in hand offer our antagonist the flBoofb first shot ^ But I believe the on ly place where the Book- Worm ever does that is the auction room. HE modern Book- Worm is not the simple nd absent-minded creature who went by his name a century ago or more. He is no cre antiquarian, Dryasdust or Dominie Sampson, but he is a sharp merchant, or a relentless broker, or a professional railroad wrecker, or a keen lawyer, or a busy physician, or a great manufacturer a wide awake man of affairs, quite devoid of the conventional innocency and credulity which former- ly made the name of Book- Worm suggestive of a necessity for a guardian or a committee in lunacy No longer does he inquire, as Becatello inquired of Alphonso, King of Naples, which had done the bet- ter Poggius, who sold a Livy, fairly writ in his own hand, to buy a country home near Florence, or he, who to buy a Livy had sold a piece of land ? No longer is the scale turned in the negotiation of a treaty between princes by the weight of a rare book, as when Cosimo dei Medici persuaded King Alphonso I no sooner come into the library, but I bolt the door to me, excluding lust, ambition, avarice, and all such vices, whose nurse is idleness, the mother of ignor- ance, and melancholy herself, and in the very lap of eternity, among so many divine souls, I take my seat with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all our great ones and rich men that know not this happiness. Heinsius. 96 of Naples to a peace by sending him a codex of Livy. No longer does the Book- Worm sit in his modest book-room, absorbed in his adored volumes, heed- less of the waning lamp and the setting star, of hun- ger and thirst, unmindful of the scent of the clover wafted in at the window, deaf to the hum of the bees and the low of the kine, blind to the glow of sunsets and the soft contour of the blue hills, and the bil- lowy swaying of the wheat field before the gentle breath of the south ^ No longer can it be said that THE BOOK-WORM DOES NOT CARE FOR NATURE. FEEL no need of nature's flowers Of flowers of rhetoric I have store ; I do not miss the balmy showers When books are dry I o'er them pore. Why should I sit upon a stile And cause my aged bones to ache, When I can all the hours beguile With any style that I would take ? Why should I haunt a purling stream, Or fish in miasmatic brook ? O'er Euclid's angles I can dream, And recreation find in Hook. Why should I jolt upon a horse And after wretched vermin roam, When I can choose an easier course With Fox and Hare and Hunt at home ? 97 Why should I scratch my precious skin gjoofc B y crawling through a hawthorne hedge, When Hawthorne, raking up my sin, Stands tempting on the nearest ledge ? No need that I should take the trouble To go abroad to walk or ride, For I can sit at home and double Quite up with pain from Akenside. |HE modern Book- Worm deals in sums of ;ix figures ; he keeps an agent " on the >ther side;" he cables his demands and ds decisions ; his name flutters the dove- cotes in the auction-room ; to him is proffered the first chance at a rarity worth a King's ransom ; too busy to potter in person with such a trifle as the purchase of a Mazarine Bible, he hires others to do the hunting and he merely receives the game ; the tiger skin and the elephant's tusk are laid at his feet to order, but he misses all the joy and ardor of the hunt. How different is all this from Sir Thomas Ur- quhart's account of his own library, of which he says : " There were not three works therein which were not of mine own purchase, and all of them to- gether, in the order wherein I had ranked them, com- piled like to a complete nosegay of flowers, which in my travels I had gathered out of the gardens of sixteen several kingdoms." v ^ Another fault of the Book-Worm is the affectation 98 * of collecting books on subjects in which he takes no practical interest, simply because it is the fashion or the books are intrinsically beautiful. Many a man has a fine collection on Angling, for example, who hardly knows how to put a worm on a hook, much less at- tach a fly s>$i I fear I am one of these hypocritical creatures, for this is HOW I QO A-FISHING. jIS sweet to sit in shady nook, Or wade in rapid crystal brook, Impervious in rubber boots, And wary of the slippery roots, To snare the swift evasive trout Or eke the sauntering horn-pout ; Or in the cold Canadian river To see the glorious salmon quiver, And them with tempting hook inveigle, Fit viand for a table regal ; Or after an exciting bout To snatch the pike with sharpened snout ; Or with some patient ass to row To troll for bass with motion slow. Oh! joy supreme when they appear Splashing above the water clear, And drawn reluctantly to land Lie gasping on the yellow sand ! But sweeter far to read the books That treat of flies and worms and hooks, From Pickering's monumental page, 99 - . ' * * " . v * i (Late rivalled by the rare Dean Sage), And Major's elder issues neat, To Burnand's funny " Incompleat." I love their figures quaint and queer, "Which on the inviting page appear, From those of good Dame Juliana, Who lifts a fish and cries hosanna, To those of Stothard, graceful Quaker, Of fishy art supremest maker, Whose fisherman, so dry and neat, Would never soil a parlor seat. I love them all, the books on angling, And far from cares and business jangling, Ensconced in cosy chimney-corner, Like the traditional Jack Horner, I read from Walton down to Lang, And hum that song the Milkmaid sang. I get not tired nor wet nor cross, Nor suffer monetary loss If fish are shy and will not bite, And shun the snare laid in their sight In order home at night to bring A fraudulent, deceitful string, And thus escape the merry jeers Of heartless piscatory peers ; Nor have to listen to the lying Of fishermen while fish are frying, "Who boast of draughts miraculous Which prove too large a draught on us. I spare the rod, and rods don't break ; 100 ' .* ' * . * I * Nor fish in sight the hook forsake ; My lines ne'er snap like corset laces ; Qgoofb My lines are fallen in pleasant places. Worm And so in sage experience ripe, My fishery is but a type. IOX POVERTY AS A MEANS OF ENJOYMENT IN COLLECTING. OOR collectors are not only not at a disadvantage in enjoyment, but they have a positive advantage over affluent rivals. If I were rich, probably I should not throw my money away just to experience this superiority, but it nevertheless exists. I do not envy, but I commiserate my brother collector who has plenty of money. He who only has to draw his check to obtain his desire fails to reach the keenest bliss of the pursuit. If diamonds were as common as cobble stones there would be no delight in picking them up **$<& To constitute a bibliomaniac in the true sense, the love of books must combine with a certain limitation of means for the gratification of the appetite $i The consciousness of some extravagance must be always present in his mind ; there must be a sense of sacri- fice in the attainment; in a rich man the disease cannot exist ; he cannot enter the kingdom of the Bibliomaniac's heaven. There is the same difference of sensation between the acquirement of books by a wealthy man and by him of slender purse, that there is between the taking of fish in a net and the successful result of a long angling pursuit after one especially fat and evasive trout. When a prince kills 102 his preserved game, with keepers to raise it for him and to hand him guns ready loaded, so that all he has to do is to squint and pull the trigger, this is not ^^ hunting ; it is mere vulgar butchery fb What knows he of the joys of the tramper in the forest, who stalks the deer, or scares up smaller game, singly, and has to work hard for his bag ? We read in Dib- din's sumptuous pages of the celebrated contest be- tween the Duke of Devonshire and the Marquis of Blandford for the possession of the Valdarfar De- cameron ; we read with admiration, but we also read of the immortal battle of Elia with the little squab- keeper of the old book-stall in Ninety-four alley, over the ownership of a ragged duodecimo for a sixpence; we read with affection fy So we read Leigh Hunt's confession that when he "cut open a new catalogue of old books, and put crosses against dozens of vol- umes in the list, out of the pure imagination of buying them, the possibility being out of the question." ^ Poverty hath her victories no less renowned than wealth. To haunt the book-stores, there to see a long- desired work in luxurious and tempting style, reluc- tantly to abandon it for the present on account of the price ; to go home and dream about it, to wonder, for a year, and perchance longer, whether it will ever again greet your eyes ; to conjecture what act of desperation you might in heat of passion commit toward some more affluent man in whose possession you should thereafter find it ; to see it turn up again in another book-shop, its charms slightly faded, but 103 g yet mellowed by age, like those of your first love, met in later life with this difference, however, that fy whereas you crave those of the book more than ever, you are generally quite satisfied with yourself for not having, through the greenness of youth, yielded untimely to those of the lady; to ask with assumed indifference the price, and learn with ill-dissembled joy that it is now within your means; to say you'll take it; to place it beneath your arm, and pay for it (or more generally order it " charged"); to go forth from that room with feelings akin to those of Ulysses when he brought away the Palladium from Troy ; to keep a watchful eye on the parcel in the railway coach on your way home, or to gloat over the treas- ures of its pages, and wonder if the other passengers have any suspicion of your good fortune; and finally to place the volume on your shelf, and thenceforth to call it your own this is indeed a pleasure denied to the affluent, so keen as to be akin to pain, and only marred by the palling which always follows possession and the presentation of your book - seller's account three months afterwards. 104 . * . XVI. THE ARRANGEMENT OF BOOKS. ERE was a time when I loved o see my books arranged with a iew to uniformity of height and armony of color without respect o subjects. That time I regard as my vealy period s& That was the time when we admired "Somnam- bula," and when the housewife used to have all the pictures hung on the same level, and to buy vases in pairs exactly alike and put them on either side of the parlor clock, which was generally surmounted by a prancing Sara- cen or a weaving Penelope. Granting that a collec- tion is not extensive enough to demand a strict ar- rangement by subjects, I like to see a little artistic confusion high and low together here and there, like a democratic community ; now and then some giants laid down on their sides to rest ; the shelves not uni- formly filled out as if the owner never expected to buy any more, and alongside a dainty Angler a book in red or blue cloth with a white label just as chil- dred in velvet and furs sit next a newsboy, or a little girl in calico with a pigtail at Sunday School, or as beggars and princes kneel side by side on the cathedral pavement. It is good to have these "swell" books rub up against the commoners, which though not so ele- gant are frequently a great deal brig hter. At a country 105 funeral I once heard the undertaker say to the bear- erSj " s * ze vourse l ves off." There is no necessity or art i st i c 8 a * n m such a ceremony in a library, and a departure from stiff uniformity is quite agreeable i& Then I do not care to have the book cases all of the same height, nor even of the same kind of wood, nor to have them all " dwarfs," with bric-a-brac on the top. I would rather have more books on top fit In short, it is pleasant to have the collection remind one in a way of Topsy not that it was "born," but "growed" and is expected to grow more &3i There is a modern notion of considering a library as a room rather than as a collection of books, and of making the front drawing-room the library, which is heretical in the eyes of a true Book- Worm. This is probably an invention of the women of the house to prevent any additions to the books without their knowledge, and to discourage book-buying. "We have surrendered too much to our wives in this; they demand book cases as furniture and to serve as shelves, without any regard to the interior contents or whether there are any, except for the color of the bindings and the regularity of the rows. All of us have thus seen "libraries" without books worthy the name, and book-cases sometimes with exquisite silk curtains, carefully and closely drawn, arousing the suspicion that there were no 106 books behind them $& My ideal library is a room given up to books, all by itself, at the top or in the rear of the house, where "company" cannot break through and say to me, "I know you are a great man to buy books have you seen that beautiful limited holiday edition of Ben Hur, with illustra- tions ? ' 107 XVII. ENEMIES OF BOOKS. R. BLADES regards as "Enemies of Books" fire, water, gas, heat, dust and neglect, ignorance and bigotry, the worm, beetles, bugs and rats, book-binders, collectors, servants and children * He does not include women, borrowers, or thieves. Perhaps he considers them rather as enemies of the book-owners jfr The worm is not always to be considered an enemy to authors, although he may be to books. James Payn, in speaking of the recent discovery, in the British Museum, of a copy on papyrus of the humorous poems of the obscure Greek poet, Herodles, says : " The humorous poems of Herodles possess, how- ever, the immense advantage of being 'seriously muti- lated by worms'; wherever therefore an hiatus occurs, the charitable and cultured mind will be enabled to conclude that (as in the case of a second descent up- on a ball supper) the ' best things ' have been al- ready devoured." It was doubtless to guard against thieves that the ancient books were chained up in the monasteries, but the practice was effectual also against borrowers. De Bury, in his " Philobiblon " has a chapter entitled " A Provident Arrangement by which his Books may be lent to Strangers," in which the utmost leniency is to lend duplicate books upon ample security. Not to adopt the harsh judg- 108 ment of an ancient author, who says, " to lend a book is to lose it, and borrowing but a hypocritical prc- tense for stealing," we may conclude, in a word, that to lend a book is like the Presidency of the United States, to be neither desired nor refused. Col- lectors are not so much exposed to the ravages of thieves as book-sellers are, and a book-thief ought to be regarded with leniency for his good taste and his reliance on the existence of culture in others. After all, it is one's own fault if he lends a book & One should as soon think of lending one of his children, unless he has duplicate or triplicate daughters. It would be difficult to foretell what would happen to a man who should propose to borrow a rare book. Perhaps death by freezing would be the safest pre- diction. Although Grolier stamped " et amicorum " on his books, that did not mean that he would lend them, but only that his friends were free of them at his house. It is amusing to note, in Mr. Castle's monograph on Book-Plates, how many of them indi- cate a stern purpose not to lend books. Mr. Gosse re- gards book-plates as a precaution not only against thieves, but against borrowers. He observes of the man who does not adopt a book-plate : " Such a man is liable to great temptations. He is brought face to face with that enemy of his species, the borrower, and does not speak with him in the gate. If he had a book-plate he would say, Oh ! certainly I will lend you this volume, if it has not my book-plate in it; of course one makes it a rule never to lend a 109 book that has.' He would say this and feign to look inside the volume, knowing right well that this safe- g uar d against the borrower is there already." One may make a gift of a book to a friend, but there is as much difference between giving a book and lend- ing one as there is between indorsing a note and giving the money. I have considerable respect for and sympathy with a good honest book-thief. He holds out no false hopes and makes no false pretences. But the borrower who does not return adds hypocrisy and false pretences to other crime. He ought to be committed to the State prison for life, and put at keeping the books of the institution. In a buried tem- ple in Cnidos, in 1857, Mr. Newton found rolls of lead hung up, on which were inscribed spells devoting enemies to the infernal gods for sundry specified of- fenses, among which was the failure to return a bor- rowed garment ^b On which Agnes Repplier says : " Would that it were given to me now to inscribe, and by inscribing doom, all those who have borrowed and failed to return our books ; would that by scrib- bling some strong language on a piece of lead we could avenge the lamentable gaps on our shelves, and send the ghosts of the wrong-doers howling dismally into the eternal shades of Tartarus." HAVE spoken of a certain amount of sym- pathy as due from a magnanimous book- owner toward a pilferer of such wares. This is always on the condition that he steals to add to his own hoard and not for mere pecuniary no gain. The following is suggested as a Christian mode of dealing with THE BOOK-THIEF. |H, gentle thief! I marked the absent-minded air "With which you tucked away my rare Book in your pocket. 'Twas past belief I saw you near the open case, But yours was such an honest face I did not lock it. I knew you lacked That one to make your set complete, And when that book you chanced to meet You recognized it. And when attacked By rage of bibliophilic greed, You prigged that small Quantin Ovide, Although I prized it. I will not sue, Nor bring your family to shame By giving up your honored name To heartless prattle. I'll visit you, And under your unwary eyes Secrete and carry off the prize, My ravished chattel. in gooft; T GREATLY rejoices me to observe that Mr. Blades does not include tobacco among the enemies of books. In one sense tobacco may be ranked as a book-enemy, for self-denial in this regard may furnish a man with a good library in a few years. I have known a very pretty col- lection made out of the ordinary smoke-offerings of twenty years. Undoubtedly there are libraries so fine that smoking in them would be discountenanced, but mine is not impervious to the pipe or cigar, and I entertain the pleasing fancy that tobacco-smoke is good for books, disinfects them, and keeps them free from the destroying worm. As I do not myself smoke, I like to see my friends taking their ease in my book-room, with the " smoke of their torment ascending" above my modest volumes. I know how they feel, without incurring the expense, and so to them I indite and dedicate THE SMOKE TRAVELLER. I puff my cigarette, Straight I see a Spanish girl, Mantilla, fan, coquettish curl, Languid airs and dimpled face, Calculating fatal grace ; Hear a twittering serenade Under lofty balcony played ; Queen at bull-fight, naught she cares "What her agile lover dares ; She can love and quick forget. XI2 Let me but my meerschaum light, I behold a bearded man, Built upon capacious plan, Sabre-slashed in war or duel, Gruff of aspect but not cruel, Metaphysically muddled, With strong beer a little fuddled, Slow in love and deep in books, More sentimental than he looks, Swears new friendships every night. Let me my chibouk enkindle, In a tent I'm quick set down With a Bedouin lean and brown, Plotting gain of merchandise, Or perchance of robber prize ; Clumsy camel load upheaving, "Woman deftly carpet weaving ; Meal of dates and bread and salt, While in azure heavenly vault Throbbing stars begin to dwindle. Glowing coal in clay dudheen Carries me to sweet Killarney, Full of hypocritic blarney ; Huts with babies, pigs and hens Mixed together ; bogs and fens ; Shillalahs, praties, usquebaugh, Tenants defying hated law, Fair blue eyes with lashes black, "3 Eyes black and blue from cudgel-thwack,- ^ a So fair, so foul, is Erin green. 03?orm My nargileh once inflamed, Quick appears a Turk with turban, Girt with guards in palace urban, Or in house by summer sea Slave-girls dancing languidly ; Bow-string, sack and bastinado, , Black boats darting in the shadow ; Let things happen as they please, Whether well or ill at ease, Fate alone is blessed or blamed. With my ancient calumet I can raise a wigwam's smoke, And the copper tribe invoke, Scalps and wampum, bows and knives, Slender maidens, greasy wives, Papoose hanging on a tree, Chieftains squatting silently, Feathers, beads and hideous paint, Medicine-man and wooden saint, Forest-framed the vision set. My cigar breeds many forms Planter of the rich Havana, Mopping brow with sheer bandanna ; Russian prince in fur arrayed ; Paris fop on dress parade ; London swell just after dinner ; 114 Wall Street broker gambling sinner ; Delver in Nevada mine ; Scotch laird bawling " Auld Lang Syne ; " Thus Raleigh's weed my fancy warms. Life's review in smoke goes past. Fickle fortune, stubborn fate, Right discovered all too late, Beings loved and gone before, Beings loved but friends no more, Self-reproach and futile sighs, Vanity in birth that dies, Longing, heart-break, adoration, Nothing sure in expectation Save ash-receiver at the last. N THE early history of New England, when the town of Deerfield was burned by the In- dians, Captain Dunstan, who was the father of a large family, deeming discretion the better part of valor, made up his mind to run for it and to take one child (as a sample, probably), that being all he could safely carry on his horse $jt But on looking about him, he could not determine which child to take, and so observing to his wife, " All or none," he set her and the baby on the horse, and brought up the rear on foot with his gun, and fended off the redskins and brought the whole family into safety. Such is the tale, and in the old primer there was a picture of the scene although I do not "5 understand that it was taken from the life, and the story reflects small credit on the character of the aborigines for enterprise. HAVE often conjectured which of my books I would save in case of fire in my li- brary, and whether I should care to rescue any if I could not bring off all. Perhaps the problem would work itself out as follows : THE FIRE IN THE LIBRARY. jWAS just before midnight a smart conflagration Broke out in my dwelling and threatened my books ; Confounded and dazed with a great consternation I gazed at my treasures with pitiful looks. "Oh ! which shall I rescue ? " I cried in deep feeling ; I wished I were armed like Briareus of yore, While sharper and sharper the flames kept revealing The sight of my bibliographical store. " My Lamb may remain to be thoroughly roasted, My Crabbe to be broiled and my Bacon to fry, My Browning accustomed to being well toasted, And Waterman Taylor rejoicing to dry." At hazard I grasped at the rest of my treasure, And crammed all pockets with dainty eighteens ; I packed up a pillow case, heaping good measure, And turned me away from the saddest of scenes. But slowly departing, my face growing sadder, At leaving old favorites behind me so far, II* I A feminine voice from the foot of the ladder Cried, " Bring down my Cook-Book and Harper's Bazar!" 'T HAS been hereinbefore intimated that women may be classed among the enemies of books. There is at least one time of the year when every Book- Worm thinks so, and that is the dread period of house-cleaning sometimes in the spring, sometimes in the autumn, and sometimes, in the case of excessively finical housewives, in both $jb That is the time looked for- ward to by him with apprehension and looked back upon with horror, because the poor fellow knows what comes of CLEANING THE LIBRARY. |ITH traitorous kiss remarked my spouse, Remain down town to lunch to-day, For we are busy cleaning house, And you would be in Minnie's way." When I came home that fateful night, I found within my sacred room The wretched maid had wreaked her spite With mop and pail and witch's broom. The books were there, but oh how changed ! They startled me with rare surprises, For they had all been rearranged, And less by subjects than by sizes. 117 Some volumes numbered right to left, And some were standing on their heads, And some were f their mates bereft, And some behind for refuge fled. The -women brave attempts had made At placing cognate books together; They looked like strangers close arrayed Under a porch in stormy weather. She watched my face that spouse of mine Some approbation there to glean, But seeing I did not incline To praise, remarked, " I've got it clean." And so she had and also wrong ; She little knew she was but thirty I entertained a preference strong To have it right, though ne'er so dirty. That wife of mine has much good sense, To chide her would have been inhuman, And it would be a great expense To graft the book-sense on a woman. IUCH are my reflections when I consider ta fire in my own little library. But when [I regard the great and growing mass of (books with which the earth groans, and reflect how few of them are necessary or original, and how little the greater part of them would be missed, I sometimes am led to believe that a general conflagration of them might in the long run be a III blessing to mankind, by the stimulation of thought and the deliverance of authors from the influence of tradition and the habit of imitation. When I am in this mood I incline to think that much is ODE TO OMAR. jMAR, who burned (or did not burn) The Alexandrian tomes, I would erect to thee an urn Beneath Sophia's domes. So many books I can't endure The dull and commonplace, The dirty, trifling and obscure, The realistic race. Would that thy exemplary torch Could bravely blaze again, And many manufactories scorch Of book-inditing men. The poets who write " dialect," Maudlin and coarse by turns, Most ardently do I expect Thou'lt wither up with Burns. All the erratic, yawping class Condemn with judgment stern, Walt Whitman's awful "Leaves of Grass " With elegant Swinburne. Of commentators make a point, The carping, blind, and dry ; 119 Rend the " Baconians " joint by joint, And throw them on to fry. Especially I'd have thee choke Law libraries in sheep With fire derived from ancient Coke, And sink in ashes deep. Destroy the sheep don't save my own I weary of the cram, The misplaced diligence I've shown But kindly spare my Lamb. Fear not to sprinkle on the pyre The woes of " Esther Waters " ; They'll only make the flame soar higher, And warn Eve's other daughters. But 'ware of Howells and of James, Of Trollope and his rout ; They'd dampen down the fiercest flames And put your fire out. 1 20 XVIII. LIBRARY COMPANIONS. S A RULE I do not care for any constant human companion in my library, but I do not object to a cat or a small dog i^ That picture of Montaigne, drawn by himself, amusing his cat (with a garter, or that other one of Doctor Johnson feeding oys- ters to his cat Hodge, is a very pleasing one. In my library hangs Durer's picture of St. Jerome in his cell, busy with his writing, and a dog and a lion quietly dozing together in the fore- ground. As I am no saint I have never been able to keep a lion in my library for any great length of time, but I have maintained a dog there 8& Lamb even con- tended that his books were the better for being dog's- eared, but I do not go so far as that. Nor do I pretend that his presence -will prevent the books from be- coming foxed. Here is a portrait of MY DOG. |E IS a trifling, homely beast, Of no use, or the very least; To shake imaginary rat Or bark for hours at china cat ; To lie at head of stairs and start, Like animated, woolly dart, Upon a non-existent foe ; lax ($006; Worm Or on hind legs like monkey go, To beg for sugar or for bone ; Never content to be alone ; To bask for hours in the sun. Rolled up till head and tail are one ; Usurping all the softest places And keeping them with doggish graces ; To sneak between the housemaid's feet And scour unnoticed on the street ; Wag indefatigable tail ; Cajole with piteous human wail ; To dance with dainty dandy air When nicely parted is his hair, And look most ancient and dejected When it has been too long neglected ; To sleep upon my book-den rug And dream of battle with a pug ; To growl with counterfeited rabies ; To be more trouble than twin babies ; These are the qualities and tricks That in my heart his image fix ; And so in cursory, doggerel rhyme I celebrate him in his time, Nor wait his virtues to rehearse In cold obituary verse. HERE is one other speaking companion that I would tolerate in my library, and that is a clock. I have a number of clocks in mine, and if it were not for their unani- 122 mous and warning voice I might forget to go to bed. Perhaps my reader would like to hear an account of . MY CLOCKS. |IVE clocks adorn my domicile And give me occupation, For moments else inane I fill With their due regulation. Four of these clocks, on each Lord's Day, As regular as preaching, I wind and set, so that they may The flight of time be teaching. My grandfather's old clock is chief, With foolish moon-faced dial ; Procrastination is a thief It always brings to trial. Its height is as the tallest men, Its pendulum beats slow, And when its awful bell booms ten, Young men get up and go. Another clock is bronze and gilt, Penelope sits on it, And in her fingers holds a quilt How strange 'tis not a bonnet ! Memorial of those weary years When she the web unravelled, While Ithacus choked down his fears And slow from Ilium travelled. 123 ' Ceres upon the third, with spray Q$cofb Of grain, in classic gown, Seems sadly to recall the day Proserpine sank down, With scarcely time to say good-bye, Unto the world of Dis ; And keeps account, with many a sigh, Of harvest time in this. Another clock is rococo, Of Louis Sept or Seize, With many a dreadful furbelow An artist's hair to raise, Suggestions of a giddy court, With fan and boufflant bustle, When silken trains made gallant sport And o'er the floor did rustle. The fourth was brought, in foolish trust, From Alpland far away, A baby clock, and so it must Be tended every day. Importunate and trivial thing I Thou katydid of clocks ! Defying all my skill to bring Right time from out thy box. With works of wood and face of brass On which queer cherubs play, The tedious hours thou well dost pass, And none thy chirp gainsay. 124 MONG the silent companions in my study are the effigies of the four reatest geniuses of modern times in the realms of literature, art, music nd war a print of Shakespeare; one of Michael Angelo's corrugated face with its broken nose ; a bust of Beethoven, re- sembling a pouting lion ; and a print of Napoleon at St. Helena, representing him dressed in a white duck suit, with a broad-brimmed straw hat, and sitting looking seaward, with those unfathomable eyes, a newspaper lying in his lap tfjb Unhappy faces all ex- cept the first his cheerful, probably because he has effected an arrangement with an otherwise idle per- son, named Bacon, to do all his work for him. But there is another portrait, at which I look oftener, the original of which probably takes more interest in me, but is unknown to every visitor to my study. I myself have not seen her in half a century dfb I call it simply A PORTRAIT. GENTLE face is ever in my room, With features fine and melancholy eyes, Though young, a little past life's freshest bloom, And always with air of sad surmise. A great white cap almost conceals her hair, A collar broad falls o'er her shoulders slender ; The fashion of a bygone age an air Of quaintness to her simple garb doth render. 125 (goofc Those hazel eyes pursue me as I move And seem to watch my busy toiling pen ; &**"' They hold me with an anxious yearning love, As if she dwelt upon the earth again. My mother's portrait ! fifty years ago, When I was but a heedless happy boy, The influence of her being ceased to flow, And she laid down life's burden and its joy. And now as I sit pondering o'er my books, So vainly seeking a receding rest, I read the wonder in her steadfast looks : " Is this my son who lay upon my breast ? " And when for me there is an end of time, And this unsatisfying work is done, If I shall meet thee in thy peaceful clime, Young mother, wilt thou know thy gray-haired son ? HERE is one other work of art which I adorns my library a medallion by a dear friend of mine, an eminent sculptor, the I story of which I will put into his mouth. He calls the face MY SCHOOLMATE. |HE snows have settled on my head But not upon my heart, And incidents of years long fled From out my memory start. My hand is cunning to contrive 126 The shapes my brain invents, And keep in marble forms alive That which my soul contents ; Worm And I have wife, and children tall, Grandchildren cluster near, And sweet the applause of men doth fall On my undeafened ear. But still my mind will backward turn For half a century, And without reasoning will yearn For sight or news of thee, Thou playmate of my boyhood days, When life was all aglow, When the sweetest thing was thy girlish praise, As I drew thee o'er the snow To the old red school-house by the road, Where we learned to spell and read, When thou wert all my fairy load And I was thy prancing steed. Oh ! thou wert simple then and fair. Artless and unconstrained, With quaintly knotted auburn hair From which the wind refrained, And from thine earnest steady eyes Shone out a nature pure, Formed by kind Heaven, a man's best prize, To love and to endure. Oh ! art thou still in life and time, Or hast thou gone before ? 127 ' I I And hath thy lot been like to mine, Or pinched and bare and sore ? ^ nc * didst thou marry, or art thou Still of the spinster tribe ? Perchance thou art a widow now, Steeled against second bribe ? Do grandsons round thy hearthstone play, Or dost thou end thy race ? And could that auburn hair grow gray, And wrinkles line thy face ? I cannot make thee old and plain I would not if I could And I recall thee without stain, Simply and sweetly good ; And I have carved thy pretty head And hung it on my wall, And to all men let it be said, I like it best of all ; For on a far-off snowy road, Before I had learned to read, Thou wert all my fairy load And I was thy prancing steed ! HAVE reserved my queerest library compan- ion till the last. It is not a book, although it is good for nothing but to read. It is not an auto- graph, although it is simply the name of an in- I ;^\j dividual i& It is my office sign which I have cherished, as a memento of busier days. Some singular reflections are roused when I gaze at 128 MY SHINGLE. |Y SHINGLE is battered and old, (ooft; No longer deciphered with ease, So I've taken it in from the cold, And fastened it up on a frieze. A long generation ago, With feelings of singular pride I regarded its glittering show, And pointed it out to my bride. Companions of youth have grown few, Its loves and aversions are faint ; No spirit to make friends anew An old enemy seems like a saint. My clients have paid the last fee For passage in Charon's sad boat, Imposing no duty on me Save to utter this querelous note ; And still as I toil in life's mills, In loneliness growing profound, To attend on the proof of their wills And swear that their wits were quite sound ! So I work with the scissors and pen, And to show of old courage a spark, I must utter a jest now and then, Like whistling of boys in the dark. I tack my old friend on the wall, So that infantile grandson of mine 129 ttt May not think, if my life he recall, That I died without making a sign. When at court on the great judgment day With penitent suitors I mingle, May my guilt be washed cleanly away, Like that on my faded old shingle ! COURSE my chief occupation in ny library is reading and writing. To )e sure, I do a good deal of thinking here. But there is another occupa- ion which I practice to a great ex- ent, which does not involve reading or writing at all, nor thinking to any considerable de- gree. That is playing solitaire. I play only one kind of this and that I have played for many years &k It requires two packs of cards, and requires building on the aces and kings, and so I have them tacked down on a lap-board to save picking out and laying down every time < This particular game is called " St. Elba," probably because Napoleon did not play it, and it can be " won " once in about sixty trials. I do not care for card-playing with others, but I have certain reasons for liking SOLITAIRE. LIKE to play cards with a man of sense, And allow him to play with me, And so it has grown a delight intense To play solitaire on my knee. 130 I love the quaint form of the sceptered king, The simplicity of the ace, The stolid knave like a wooden thing, And her majesty's smirking face. Diamonds, aces, and clubs and spades Their garb of respectable black A moiety brilliant of red invades, As they mingle in motley pack. Independent of anyone's signal or leave, Relieved from the bluffing of poker, I've no apprehension of ace up a sleeve, And fear no superfluous joker. I build up and down ; all the cards I hold, And the game is always fair, For I am honest, and so is my old Companion at solitaire. Let kings condescend to the lower grades, Queens glitter with diamonds rare, Knaves flourish their clubs, and peasants wield spades, But give me my solitaire. " " " ' - X '. fc " * .. * XIX. THE FRIENDSHIP OF BOOKS. |O MANY peaceful men of the legal robe the companionship of books is inexpressibly dear. What a privilege it is to summon the greatest and most :harming spirits of the past from their graves, and find them always willing to talk to us ! How delightful to go to our well-known book-shelves* lay hands on our favorite authors even in the dark, so well do we know them take any volume, open it at any page, and in a few min- utes lose all sense and remembrance of the real world, with its strife, its bitterness, its disappoint- ments, its hollo wness, its unfaithfulness, its selfish- ness, in the pictures of an ideal world ! ft The real world, do we say ? Which is the real world, that of history or that of fiction ? In this age of historic doubt and iconoclasm, are not the heroes of our favorite romances much more real than those of his- tory? Captain Ed'ard Cuttle, mariner, is much more real to us than Captain Joseph Cook ; Cooper's Two Admirals than the great Nels.an ; Leather- Stocking than the yellow-haired Cu&ter; Henry Esmond than any of the Pretenders; Hester Prynne and Becky Sharp than Catherine of Russia or Aspasia or Lu- crezia ; Sidney Carton than Philip Sidney. Even the kings and heroes who have lived in history live more vividly for us in romance. We know the crooked Richard and the crafty Louis XI. most familiarly, if not most accurately, through Shakespeare and Scott ; and where in history do we get so haunting a picture <9orm of the great Napoleon and Waterloo as in Victor Hugo's wondrous but inaccurate chapter ? Happy is the man who has for his associates David, Solomon, Job, Paul, and John, in spite of the assaults of mod- ern criticism upon the Scriptures ! No one can shake our faith in Don Quixote, although the accounts of the Knight " without fear and without reproach " are so short and vague. There is no doubt about the travels of Christian, although those of Stanley may be questioned. The Vicar of Wakefield is a much more actual personage than Peter who preached the Crusades. Sir Roger de Coverley and his squire life are much more probable to us than Sir William Temple in his gardens 1^1 There is no character in romance who has not or might not have lived, but we are thrown into grave doubts of the saintly Wash- ington and the devilish Napoleon depicted three quarters of a century ago. "We cast history aside in scepticism and disgust ; we cling to romance with faith and delight dfi " The things that are seen are temporal"} the things that are not seen are eternal." So let the writer hereof sing a song in praise of .^ MY FRIENDS THE BOOKS. [RIENDS of my youth and of my age Within my chamber wait, Until I fondly turn the page And prove them wise and great. 133 At me they do not rudely glare With eye that luster lacks, But knowing how I hate a stare, Politely turn their backs. They never split my head with din, Nor snuffle through their noses, Nor admiration seek to win By inartistic poses. If I should chance to fall asleep, They do not scowl or snap, But prudently their counsel keep Till I have had my nap. And if I choose to rout them out Unseasonably at night, They do not chafe nor curse nor pout, But rise all clothed and bright. They ne'er intrude with silly say, They never scold nor worry ; They ne'er suspect and ne'er betray, They're never in a hurry. Anacreon never gets quite full, Nor Horace too flirtatious ; Swift makes due fun of Johnny Bull, And Addison is gracious. Saint-Simon and Grammont rehearse Their tales of court with glee ; 134 For all their scandal I'm no worse, They never peach on me. For what I owe Montaigne, no dread Worm To meet him on the morrow ; And better still, it must be said, He never wants to borrow. Paul never asks, though sure to preach, 'Why I don't come to church ; Though Dr. Johnson strives to teach, I do not fear his birch. My Dickens never is away Whene'er I choose to call ; I need not wait for Thackeray In chill palatial hall. I help to bring Amelia to, Who always is a-fainting; I love the Oxford graduate who Explains great Turner's painting. My memory is full of graves Of friends in days gone by ; But Time these sweet companions saves, These friends who never die ! 135 ; SO HERE ENDETH " IN THE TRACK OF THE BOOK-WORM." $ PRINTED BY ME, ELBERT HUBBARD, AT THE ROYCROFT SHOP tfi IN EAST AURORA, N. Y., U. S. A., AND COM- PLETED THIS TWENTY-SIXTH DAY OF <& JUNE, MDCCCXCVII. V I