Farmer, and Brand, have as yet held any intercourse with each other, in that place "from whose bourn no traveler returns," what must be the surprise of the three former, on being told by the latter, of the prices given for some of the books in his library, as mentioned below! A perusal of these articles may probably not impress the reader with any lofty notions of the superiority of the black letter; but this symptom of the Bibliomania is, nevertheless, not to be considered as incurable, or wholly unproductive of good. Under a proper spirit of modification it has done, and will continue to do, essential service to the cause of English literature. It guided the taste, and strengthened the judgment, of Tyrwhitt in his researches after Chaucerian lore. It stimulated the studies of Farmer and of Steevens, and enabled them to twine many a beauteous flower round the brow of their beloved Shakespeare. It has since operated, to the same effect, in the labors of Mr. Douce, the Porson of old English and French literature; and in the editions of Milton and Spenser by my amiable and excellent friend Mr. Todd, the public have had a specimen of what the black letter may perform, when temperately and skillfully exercised. I could bring to your recollection other instances; but your own copious reading and exact memory will better furnish you with them. Let me not, however, omit remarking that the beautiful pages of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and Sir Trestrem, exhibit, in the notes (now and then thickly studded with black-letter references), a proof that the author of "The Lay" and "Marmion» has not disdained to enrich his stores of information by such intelligence as black-lettered books impart. In short, though this be also a strong and general symptom of the Bibliomania, it is certainly not attended with injurious effects when regulated by prudence and discretion. An undistinguishable voracious appetite to swallow everything printed in the black letter can only bring on unconquerable disease, if not death, to the patient. Having in the two preceding divisions of this letter discoursed somewhat largely upon the history and symptoms of the Bibliomania, it now remains, according to the original plan, to say a few words upon the probable means of its cure. And, indeed, I am driven to this view of the subject from every laudable motive; for it would be highly censurable to leave any reflecting mind impressed with melancholy emotions concerning the misery and mortality that have been occasioned by the abuse of those pursuits, to which the most soothing and important considerations ought to be attached. Far from me and my friends be such a cruel, if not criminal, conduct; let us then, my dear sir, seriously discourse upon the III. PROBABLE MEANS OF THE CURE OF THE BIBLIOMANIA. - He will surely be numbered among the philanthropists of his day who has, more successfully than myself, traced and described the ravages of this disease, and fortified the sufferer with the means of its cure. But as this is a disorder of quite a recent date, and as its characteristics, in consequence, cannot be yet fully known or described, great candor must be allowed that physician who offers a prescription for so obscure and complicated a case. It is in vain that you search the works (aye, even the best editions) of Hippocrates and Galen for a description of this malady; nor will you find it hinted at in the more philosophical treatises of Sydenham and Heberden. It had, till the medical skill of Dr. Ferriar first noticed it to the public, escaped the observations of all our pathologists. With a trembling hand and fearful apprehension, therefore, I throw out the following suggestions for the cure, or mitigation, of this disorder: In the first place, the disease of the Bibliomania is materially softened, or rendered mild, by directing our studies to useful and profitable works,-whether these be printed upon small or large paper, in the Gothic, Roman, or Italic type. To consider purely the intrinsic excellence, and not the exterior splendor, or adventitious value, of any production, will keep us perhaps wholly free from this disease. Let the midnight lamp be burned to illuminate the stores of antiquity—whether they be romances, or chronicles, or legends, and whether they be printed by Aldus or by Caxton-if a brighter lustre can thence be thrown upon the pages of modern learning. To trace genius to its source, or to see how she has been influenced or modified by "the lore of past times" is both a pleasing and profitable pursuit. To see how Shakespeare has here and there plucked a flower from some old ballad or popular tale, to enrich his own unperishable garland-to follow Spenser and Milton in their delightful labyrinths 'midst the splendor of Italian literature — are studies which stamp a dignity upon our intellectual characters. But, in such a pursuit, let us not overlook the wisdom of modern times, nor fancy that what is only ancient can be excellent. We must remember that Bacon, Boyle, Locke, Taylor, Chillingworth, Robertson, Hume, Gibbon, and Paley are names which always command attention from the wise, and remind us of the improved state of reason and acquired knowledge during the two last centuries. In the second place, the reprinting of scarce intrinsically valuable works is another means of preventing the propagation of this disorder. Amidst all our present sufferings under the Bibliomania, it is some consolation to find discerning and spirited booksellers republishing the valuable «Chronicles" of Froissart, Holinshed, and Hall, and the collections known by the names of "The Harleian Miscellany," and "Lord Somer's Tracts." These are noble efforts, and richly deserve the public patronage. In the third place, the editing of our best ancient authors, whether in prose or poetry, is another means of effectually counteracting the progress of the Bibliomania, as it has been described under its several symptoms. In the fourth place, the erecting of public institutions is a very powerful antidote against the prevalence of several symptoms of this disease. In the fifth place, the encouragement of the study of Bibliography, in its legitimate sense, and towards its true object, may be numbered among the most efficacious cures for this destructive malady. To place competent librarians over the several departments of a large public library, or to submit a library, on a more confined scale, to one diligent, enthusiastic, well-informed, well-bred, bibliographer or librarian (of which in this metropolis we have so many examples), is doing a vast deal towards directing the channels of literature to flow in their proper courses. Thus briefly and guardedly have I thrown out a few suggestions, which may enable us to avoid, or mitigate the severity of, the disease called the Bibliomania. Happy indeed shall I deem myself, if, in the description of its symptoms, and in the recommendation of the means of cure, I may have snatched any one from a premature grave, or lightened the load of years that are yet to come. You, my dear sir, who, in your observations upon society, as well as in your knowledge of ancient times, must have met with numerous instances of the miseries which "flesh is heir to," may be disposed perhaps to confess that, of all species of afflictions, the present one under consideration has the least moral turpitude attached to it. True, it may be so: for, in the examples which have been adduced, there will be found neither suicides, nor gamesters, nor profligates. No woman's heart has been broken from midnight debaucheries; no marriage vow has been violated; no child has been compelled to pine in poverty or neglect; no patrimony has been wasted; and no ancestor's fame tarnished. If men have erred under the influence of this disease, their aberrations have been marked with an excess arising from intellectual fever, and not from a desire of baser gratifications. If, therefore, in the wide survey which a philosopher may take of the "Miseries of Human Life" the prevalence of this disorder may appear to be less mischievous than that of others, and, if some of the most amiable and learned of mortals seemed to have been both unwilling, as well as unable, to avoid its contagion, you will probably feel the less alarmed if symptoms of it should appear within the sequestered abode of Hodnet! Recollecting that even in remoter situations its influence has been felt -and that neither the pure atmosphere of Hafod nor of Sledmere has completely subdued its power-you will be disposed to exclaim with violence, at the intrusion of Bibliomaniacs "What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide? They stop the chariot, and they board the barge." Upon the whole, therefore, attending closely to the symptoms of this disorder as they have been described, and practicing such means of cure as have been recommended, we may rationally hope that its virulence may abate and the number of its victims annually diminish. But if the more discerning part of the community anticipate a different result, and the preceding observations appear to have presented but a narrow and partial view of the mischiefs of the Bibliomania, my only consolation is that to advance something upon the subject is better than to preserve a sullen and invincible silence. Let it be the task of more experienced bibliographers to correct and amplify the foregoing outline! Complete. Original edition 1809. CHARLES DICKENS (1812-1870) T IS hard to find a true essay among the miscellanies and sketches which Dickens left in such abundance. He is essentially a story-teller and a descriptive writer, but his «Child's Dream of a Star" approximates the essay of that most popular type invented by Addison and Steele in which a plot is introduced as a vehicle to carry the idea gratis to those who love to get new ideas at the least possible expense of thought. "The Vision of Mirza" itself is scarcely a better example of its class than this masterpiece by Dickens. His humor is well illustrated in "The Noble Savage," an essay interesting in itself and valuable for its bearing on "the problem of civilizing the inferior races." T A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR HERE was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought of a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child too, and his constant companion. These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and blueness of the sky; they wondered at the depth of the bright water; they wondered at the goodness and the power of God who made the lovely world. They used to say to one another sometimes, Supposing all the children upon earth were to die, would the flowers, and the water, and the sky be sorry? They believed they would be sorry. For, said they, the buds are the children of the flowers; and the little playful streams that gambol down the hillsides are the children of the water; and the smallest bright specks playing at hide and seek in the sky all night must surely be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved to see their playmates, the children of men, no more. There was one clear, shining star that used to come out in the sky before the rest, near the church spire, above the graves. |