the love affairs of a bibliomaniac-第5节

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‘‘In　heaven's　name；　put　me　down　at　once；　for　there　is　an　old　gentleman　in　here　that　hath　the　Bodleian　Library　in　his　pocket！''

Porson　himself　was　a　veritable　slave　to　the　habit　of　reading　in　bed。　　He　would　lie　down　with　his　books　piled　around　him；　then　light　his　pipe　and　start　in　upon　some　favorite　volume。　　A　jug　of　liquor　was　invariably　at　hand；　for　Porson　was　a　famous　drinker。　　It　is　related　that　on　one　occasion　he　fell　into　a　boosy　slumber；　his　pipe　dropped　out　of　his　mouth　and　set　fire　to　the　bed…　clothes。　　But　for　the　arrival　of　succor　the　　tipsy　scholar　would　surely　have　been　cremated。

Another　very　slovenly　fellow　was　De　Quincey；　and　he　was　devoted　to　reading　in　bed。　　But　De　Quincey　was　a　very　vandal　when　it　came　to　the　care　and　use　of　books。　　He　never　returned　volumes　he　borrowed；　and　he　never　hesitated　to　mutilate　a　rare　book　in　order　to　save　himself　the　labor　and　trouble　of　writing　out　a　quotation。

But　perhaps　the　person　who　did　most　to　bring　reading　in　bed　into　evil　repute　was　Mrs。　Charles　Elstob；　ward　and　sister　of　the　Canon　of　Canterbury　（circa　1700）。　　In　his　‘‘Dissertation　on　Letter…Founders；''　Rowe　Mores　describes　this　woman　as　the　‘‘indefessa　comes''　of　her　brother's　studies；　a　female　student　in　Oxford。　　She　was；　says　Mores；　a　northern　lady　of　an　ancient　family　and　a　genteel　fortune；　‘‘but　she　pursued　too　much　the　drug　called　learning；　and　in　that　pursuit　failed　of　being　careful　of　any　one　thing　necessary。　　In　her　latter　years　she　was　tutoress　in　the　family　of　the　Duke　of　Portland；　where　we　visited　her　in　her　sleeping…room　at　Bulstrode；　surrounded　　with　books　and　dirtiness；　the　usual　appendages　of　folk　of　learning！''

There　is　another　word　which　Cicero　uses　for　I　have　still　somewhat　more　to　say　of　that　passage　from　the　oration　‘‘pro　Archia　poeta''the　word　‘‘rusticantur；''　which　indicates　that　civilization　twenty　centuries　ago　made　a　practice　of　taking　books　out　into　the　country　for　summer　reading。　　‘‘These　literary　pursuits　rusticate　with　us；''　says　Cicero；　and　thus　he　presents　to　us　a　pen…　picture　of　the　Roman　patrician　stretched　upon　the　cool　grass　under　the　trees；　perusing　the　latest　popular　romance；　while；　forsooth；　in　yonder　hammock　his　dignified　spouse　swings　slowly　to　and　fro；　conning　the　pages　and　the　colored　plates　of　the　current　fashion　journal。　　Surely　in　the　telltale　word　‘‘rusticantur''　you　and　I　and　the　rest　of　human　nature　find　a　worthy　precedent　and　much　encouragement　for　our　practice　of　loading　up　with　plenty　of　good　reading　before　we　start　for　the　scene　of　our　annual　summering。

As　for　myself；　I　never　go　away　from　home　that　I　do　not　take　a　trunkful　of　books　with　　me；　for　experience　has　taught　me　that　there　is　no　companionship　better　than　that　of　these　friends；　who；　however　much　all　things　else　may　vary；　always　give　the　same　response　to　my　demand　upon　their　solace　and　their　cheer。　　My　sister；　Miss　Susan；　has　often　inveighed　against　this　practice　of　mine；　and　it　was　only　yesterday　that　she　informed　me　that　I　was　the　most　exasperating　man　in　the　world。

However；　as　Miss　Susan's　experience　with　men　during　the　sixty…seven　hot　summers　and　sixty…eight　hard　winters　of　her　life　has　been　somewhat　limited；　I　think　I　should　bear　her　criticism　without　a　murmur。　　Miss　Susan　is　really　one　of　the　kindest　creatures　in　all　the　world。　　It　is　her　misfortune　that　she　has　had　all　her　life　an　insane　passion　for　collecting　crockery；　old　pewter；　old　brass；　old　glass；　old　furniture　and　other　trumpery　of　that　character；　a　passion　with　which　I　have　little　sympathy。　　I　do　not　know　that　Miss　Susan　is　prouder　of　her　collection　of　all　this　folderol　than　she　is　of　the　fact　that　she　is　a　spinster。

This　latter　peculiarity　asserts　itself　upon　　every　occasion　possible。　　I　recall　an　unpleasant　scene　in　the　omnibus　last　winter；　when　the　obsequious　conductor；　taking　advantage　of　my　sister's　white　hair　and　furrowed　cheeks；　addressed　that　estimable　lady　as　‘‘Madam。''　　I'd　have　you　know　that　my　sister　gave　the　fellow　to　understand　very　shortly　and　in　very　vigorous　English　（emphasized　with　her　blue　silk　umbrella）　that　she　was　Miss　Susan；　and　that　she　did　not　intend　to　be　Madamed　by　anybody；　under　any　condition。　




IV

THE　MANIA　OF　COLLECTING　SEIZES　ME

Captivity　Waite　never　approved　of　my　fondness　for　fairy　literature。　　She　shared　the　enthusiasm　which　I　expressed　whenever　‘‘Robinson　Crusoe''　was　mentioned；　there　was　just　enough　seriousness　in　De　Foe's　romance；　just　enough　piety　to　appeal　for　sympathy　to　one　of　Captivity　Waite's　religious　turn　of　mind。　　When　it　came　to　fiction　involving　witches；　ogres；　and　flubdubs；　that　was　too　much　for　Captivity；　and　the　spirit　of　the　little　Puritan　revolted。

Yet　I　have　the　documentary　evidence　to　prove　that　Captivity's　ancestors　（both　paternal　and　maternal）　were；　in　the　palmy　colonial　times；　as　abject　slaves　to　superstition　as　could　well　be　imagined。　　The　Waites　of　Salem　were　famous　persecutors　of　witches；　and　　Sinai　Higginbotham　（Captivity's　great…great…　grandfather　on　her　mother's　side　of　the　family）　was　Cotton　Mather's　boon　companion；　and　rode　around　the　gallows　with　that　zealous　theologian　on　that　memorable　occasion　when　five　young　women　were　hanged　at　Danvers　upon　the　charge　of　having　tormented　little　children　with　their　damnable　arts　of　witchcraft。　　Human　thought　is　like　a　monstrous　pendulum：　it　keeps　swinging　from　one　extreme　to　the　other。　　Within　the　compass　of　five　generations　we　find　the　Puritan　first　an　uncompromising　believer　in　demonology　and　magic；　and　then　a　scoffer　at　everything　involving　the　play　of　fancy。

I　felt　harshly　toward　Captivity　Waite　for　a　time；　but　I　harbor　her　no　ill…will　now；　on　the　contrary；　I　recall　with　very　tender　feelings　the　distant　time　when　our　sympathies　were　the　same　and　when　we　journeyed　the　pathway　of　early　youth　in　a　companionship　sanctified　by　the　innocence　and　the　loyalty　and　the　truth　of　childhood。　　Indeed；　I　am　not　sure　that　that　early　friendship　did　not　make　a　lasting　impression　upon　my　life；　I　have　thought　of　Captivity　Waite　a　great　　many　times；　and　I　have　not　unfrequently　wondered　what　might　have　been　but　for　that　book　of　fairy　tales　which　my　Uncle　Cephas　sent　me。

She　was　a　very　pretty　child；　and　she　lost　none　of　her　comeliness　and　none　of　her　sweetness　of　character　as　she　approached　maturity。　　I　was　impressed　with　this　upon　my　return　from　college。　　She；　too；　had　pursued　those　studies　deemed　necessary　to　the　acquirement　of　a　good　education；　she　had　taken　a　four　years'　course　at　South　Holyoke　and　had　finished　at　Mrs。　Willard's　seminary　at　Troy。　　‘‘You　will　now；''　said　her　father；　and　he　voiced　the　New　England　sentiment　regarding　young　womanhood；　‘‘you　will　now　return　to　the　quiet　of　your　home　and　under　the　direction　of　your　mother　study　the　performance　of　those　weightier　duties　which　qualify　your　sex　for　a　realization　of　the　solemn　responsibilities　of　human　life。''

Three　or　four　years　ago　a　fine…looking　young　fellow　walked　in　upon　me　with　a　letter　of　introduction　from　his　mother。　　He　was　Captivity　Waite's　son！　　Captivity　is　a　widow　now；　and　she　is　still　living　in　her　　native　State；　within　twenty　miles　of　the　spot　where　she　was　born。　　Colonel　Parker；　her　husband；　left　her　a　good　property　when　he　died；　and　she　is　famous　for　her　charities。　　She　has　founded　a　village　library；　and　she　has　written　me　on　several　occasions　for　advice　upon　proposed　purchases　of　books。

I　don't　mind　telling　you　that　I　had　a　good　deal　of　malicious　pleasure　in　sending　her　not　long　ago　a　reminder　of　old　times　in　these　words：　　‘‘My　valued　friend；''　I　wrote；　‘‘I　see　by　the　catalogue　recently　published　that　your　village　library　contains；　among　other　volumes　representing　the　modern　school　of　fiction；　eleven　copies　of　‘Trilby'　and　six　copies　of　‘The　Heavenly　Twins。'　　I　also　note　an　absence　of　certain　works　whose　influence　upon　my　earlier　life　was　such　that　I　make　bold　to　send　copies　of　the　same　to　your　care　in　the　hope　that　you　will　kindly　present　them　to　the　library　with　my　most　cordial　compliments。　　These　are　a　copy　each　of　the　‘New　England　Primer'　and　Grimm's　‘Household　Stories。'　''

At　the　age　of　twenty…three；　having　been　graduated　from　college　and　having　read　the　poems　of　Villon；　the　confessions　of　Rousseau；　　and　Boswell's　life　of　Johnson；　I　was　convinced　that　I　had　comprehended　the　sum　of　human　wisdom　and　knew　all　there　was　worth　knowing。　　If　at　the　present　time　for　I　am　seventy…twoI　knew　as　much　as　I　thought　I　knew　at　twenty…three　I　should　undoubtedly　be　a　prodigy　of　learning　and　wisdom。

I　started　out　to　be　a　philosopher。　　My　grandmother's　death　during　my　second　year　at　college　possessed　me　of　a　considerable　sum　of　money　and　severed　every　tie　and　sentimental　obligation　which　had　previously　held　me　to　my　grandmother's　wish　that　I　become　a　minister　of　the　gospel。　　When　I　became　convinced　that　I　knew　everything　I　conceived　a　desire　to　see　something；　for　I　had　traveled　none　and　I　had　met　but　few　people。

Upon　the　advice　of　my　Uncle　Cephas；　I　made　a　journey　to　Europe；　and　devoted　two　years　to　seeing　sights　and　to　acquainting　myself　with　the　people　and　the　customs　abroad。　　Nine　months　of　this　time　I　spent　in　Paris；　which　was　then　an　irregular　and　unkempt　city；　but　withal　quite　as　evil　as　at　present。　　I　took　apartments　in　the　Latin　　Quarter；　and；　be