the love affairs of a bibliomaniac(藏书癖者的爱情)-第21节
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with mould； There's the breath of the sea on every page And
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
the hint of a stanch ship's hold。
And here is a treasure from France la belle Exhaleth a faint
perfume Of wedded lily and asphodel In a garden of song
abloom。
And this wee little book of Puritan mien And rude；
conspicuous print Hath the Yankee flavor of wintergreen； Or；
may be； of peppermint。
In Walton the brooks a…babbling tell Where the cheery daisy
grows； And where in meadow or woodland dwell The
buttercup and the rose。
But best beloved of books； I ween； Are those which one
perceives Are hallowed by ashes dropped between The yellow；
well…thumbed leaves。
For it's here a laugh and it's there a tear； Till the treasured
book is read； And the ashes betwixt the pages here Tell us of
one long dead。
But the gracious presence reappears As we read the book
again； And the fragrance of precious； distant years Filleth the
hearts of men
Come； pluck with me in my garden nooks The posies that
bloom for all； Oh； sweet is the smell of my old； old books In
their places against the wall！
Better than flowers are they； these books of mine！ For what are the
seasons to them？ Neither can the drought of summer nor the asperity of
winter wither or change them。 At all times and under all circumstances
they are the sameradiant； fragrant； hopeful； helpful！ There is no charm
which they do not possess； no beauty that is not theirs。
What wonder is it that from time immemorial humanity has craved the
boon of carrying to the grave some book particularly beloved in life？
Even Numa Pompilius provided that his books should share his tomb with
him。 Twenty…four of these precious volumes were consigned with him to
the grave。 When Gabriel Rossetti's wife died； the poet cast into her open
grave the unfinished volume of his poems； that being the last and most
precious tribute he could pay to her cherished memory。
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History records instance after instance of the consolation dying men
have received from the perusal of books； and many a one has made his end
holding in his hands a particularly beloved volume。 The reverence which
even unlearned men have for books appeals in these splendid libraries
which are erected now and again with funds provided by the wills of the
illiterate。 How dreadful must be the last moments of that person who has
steadfastly refused to share the companionship and acknowledge the
saving grace of books！
Such； indeed； is my regard for these friendships that it is with misery
that I contemplate the probability of separation from them by and by。 I
have given my friends to understand that when I am done with earth
certain of my books shall be buried with me。 The list of these books will
be found in the left…hand upper drawer of the old mahogany secretary in
the front spare room。
When I am done； I'd have no son
Pounce on these treasures like a vulture； Nay； give them half
My epitaph And let them share in my sepulture。
Then when the crack Of doom rolls back
The marble and the earth that hide me； I'll smuggle home
Each precious tome Without a fear a wife shall chide me。
The dread of being separated by death from the objects of one's love
has pursued humanity from the beginning。 The Hindoos used to have a
selfish fashion of requiring their widows to be entombed alive with their
corpses。 The North American Indian insists that his horse； his bow and
arrows； his spear； and his other cherished trinkets shall share his grave
with him。
My sister； Miss Susan； has provided that after her demise a number of
her most prized curios shall be buried with her。 The list； as I recall it；
includes a mahogany four…post bedstead； an Empire dresser； a brass
warming…pan； a pair of brass andirons； a Louis Quinze table； a Mayflower
teapot； a Tomb of Washington platter； a pewter tankard； a pair of her
grandmother's candlesticks； a Paul Revere lantern； a tall Dutch clock； a
complete suit of armor purchased in Rome； and a collection of Japanese
bric…a…brac presented to Miss Susan by a returned missionary。
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I do not see what Miss Susan can possibly do with all this trumpery in
the hereafter； but； if I survive her； I shall certainly insist upon a
compliance with her wishes； even though it involve the erection of a
tumulus as prodigious as the pyramid of Cheops。
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
XIV
ELZEVIRS AND DIVERS OTHER MATTERS
Boswell's ‘‘Life of Johnson'' and Lockhart's ‘‘Life of Scott'' are
accepted as the models of biography。 The third remarkable performance
in this line is Mrs。 Gordon's memoir of her father； John Wilson； a volume
so charmingly and tenderly written as to be of interest to those even who
know and care little about that era in the history of English literature in
which ‘‘crusty Christopher'' and his associates in the making of
‘‘Blackwood's'' figured。
It is a significant fact； I think； that the three greatest biographers the
world has known should have been Scotch； it has long been the fashion to
laugh and to sneer at what is called Scotch dulness； yet what prodigies has
not Scotch genius performed in every department of literature； and
would not our literature be poor indeed to…day but for the contributions
which have been made to it by the very people whom we affect to deride？
John Wilson was one of the most interesting figures of a time when
learning was at a premium； he was a big man amongst big men； and even
in this irreverential time genius uncovers at the mention of his name。 His
versatility was astounding； with equal facility and felicity he could
conduct a literary symposium and a cock…fight； a theological discussion
and an angling expedition； a historical or a political inquiry and a
fisticuffs。
Nature had provided him with a mighty brain in a powerful body； he
had a physique equal to the performance of what suggestion soever his
splendid intellectuals made。 To him the incredible feat of walking
seventy miles within the compass of a day was mere child's play； then；
when the printer became clamorous； he would immure himself in his
wonderful den and reel off copy until that printer cried ‘‘Hold； enough！''
It was no unusual thing for him to write for thirteen hours at a stretch；
when he worked he worked； and when he played he played that is
perhaps the reason why he was never a dull boy。
Wilson seems to have been a procrastinator。 He would put off his
task to the very last moment； this is a practice that is common with literary
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menin fact； it was encouraged by those who were regarded as authorities
in such matters anciently。 Ringelbergius gave this advice to an author
under his tuition：
‘‘Tell the printers；'' said he； ‘‘to make pre
