Loren.Do you mean to have it inferred that there were no collections, of value or importance, which were sold in the mean time?
Lysand.I thank you for stopping me: for I amhoarse as well as stupid: I consider the foregoing only as the greater stars or constellations in the bibliographical hemisphere. Others were less observed from their supposed comparative insignificancy; although, ifyou had attended the auctions, you would have found in them many very useful, and even rare and splendid, productions. But we are all
'Tickled with the whistling of a name!'
Loren.Ay, and naturally enough too. If I look at my Stubbes'sAnatomy of Abuses, which has receivedyour abusethis evening, and fancy that the leaves have been turned over by the scientific hand of Pearson, Farmer, or Steevens, I experience, by association of ideas, a degree of happiness which I never could haveenjoyed had I obtained the volume from an unknown collector's library.
Lis.Very true; and yet you have only Master Stubbes's work after all!
Loren.Even so. But thisfictitioushappiness, as you would call it, is, in effect,realhappiness; inasmuch as it produces positive sensations of delight.
Lis.Well, there is no arguing with such a bibliomaniac as yourself, Lorenzo.
Belin.But allow, brother, that this degree of happiness, of which you boast, is not quite so exquisite as to justify the very high terms of purchase upon which it is often times procured.
Lysand.There is no such thing as the 'golden mediocrity' of Horace in book pursuits. Certain men set their hearts upon certain copies, and 'coûte qu'il coûte'they must secure them. Undoubtedly, I would give not a little for Parker's own copy of the Book ofCommon Prayer, and Shakspeare's own copy of both parts of hisHenry the Fourth.
Alman.Well, Lisardo, we stand no chance of stemming the torrent against two such lusty and opiniated bibliomaniacs as my brother and Lysander: although I should speak with deference of, and acknowledge with grateful respect, the extraordinary exertions of the latter, this evening, to amuse and instruct us.
Lis.This evening?——say, this day:—this live-long day—and yesterday also! But have you quite done, dear Lysander?
Lysand.Have you the conscience to ask for more? I have brought you down to the year of our LordOnethousand eight hundred and eleven; and without touching upon the collections ofliving Bibliomaniacs, or foretelling what may be the future ravages of the Bibliomania in the course of only the next dozen years, I think it proper to put an end to myBook-CollectingHistory, and more especially to this long trial of your auricular patience.
Loren.A thousand thanks for your exertions! Although your friend, with whom you are on a visit, knows pretty well the extent of my bibliographical capacity, and that there have been many parts in your narrative which were somewhat familiar to me, yet, upon the whole, there has been a great deal more of novelty, and, in this novelty, of solid instruction. Sincerely, therefore Lysander, I here offer you my heart-felt thanks.
Lysand.I receive them as cordially: from an assurance that my digressions have been overlooked; or, if noticed, forgiven. It would be gross vanity, and grosser falsehood, to affirm that the discourse of this day, on my part, has given anything like a full and explicit history of all the most eminent book-collectors and patrons of Learning which have reflected such lustre upon the literary annals of our country:—No, Lorenzo: a complete account, or a perfect description, of these illustrious characters would engage a conversation, not for one day—but one week. Yet I have made the most of the transient hour, and, by my enthusiasm, have perhaps atoned for my deficiency of information.
Lis.But cannot you resume this conversation on the morrow?
Lysand.My stay with our friend is short, and I know not how he means to dispose of me to-morrow. But I have done—certainly done—withPersonal History!
Loren.That may be. Yet there are other departments of the Bibliomania which may be successfully discussed. The weather will probably be fine, and let us enjoy a morningconversazioneinthe Alcove?
Belin.Surely, Lysander may find something in the fruitful pigeon-holes of his imagination—as the Abbè Sieyes used to do—from which he may draw forth some system or other?
Alman.You have all talked loudly and learnedly of theBook-Disease; but I wish to know whether amere collectorof books be a bibliomaniac?
Lysand.Certainly not. There areSymptomsof this diseasewithin the very books themselvesof a bibliomaniac.
Alman.And pray what are these?
Lysand.Alas, madam!—why are you so unreasonable? And how, after knowing that I have harrangued for more than 'seven hours by Westminster clock'—how can you have the conscience to call upon me to protract the oration? The night has already melted into morning; and I suppose grey twilight is discoverable upon the summit of the hills. I am exhausted; and long for repose. Indeed, I must wish you all a good night.
Belin.But you promise to commence yoursymptomaticharangue on the morrow?
Lysand.If my slumbers are sound, lady fair, and I rise tolerably recruited in strength, I will surely make good my promise. Again, good night!
Belin.Sir, a very good night: and let our best thanks follow you to your pillow.
Alman.Remember, as you sink to repose, what a quantity of good you have done, by having imparted such useful information.
Lysand.I shall carry your best wishes, and grateful mention of my poor labours, with me to my orisons. Adieu!—'tis very late.
Here the company broke up. Lisardo slept at Lorenzo's. Philemon and Lysander accompanied me tomy home; and as we past Lorenzo's outer gate, and looked backward upon the highest piece of rising ground, we fancied we saw the twilight of morning. Never was a mortal more heartily thanked for his colloquial exertions than was Lysander. On reaching home, as we separated for our respective chambers, we shook hands most cordially; and my eloquent guest returned the squeeze, in a manner which seemed to tell that he had no greater happiness at heart than that of finding a reciprocity of sentiment among those whom he tenderly esteemed. At this moment, we could have given to each other the choicest volume in our libraries; and I regretted that I had not contrived to put my black-morocco copy of the smallAldine Petrarch, printed uponvellum, under Lysander's pillow, as a 'Pignus Amicitiæ.'—But we were all to assemble together in Lorenzo'sAlcoveon the morrow; and this thought gave me such lively pleasure that I did not close my eyes 'till the clock had struck five. Such are the bed-luxuries of a Bibliomaniac!
fac
[Enlarge]
The reader is here presented with one of the "Facs," or ornamental lettersinPierce Ploughman's Creed.
"One saith this booke is too long: another, too short: the third, of due length; and for fine phrase and style, the like [of] that booke was not made a great while. It is all lies, said another; the booke is starke naught."Choice of Change; 1585. 4to., sign. N. i.
"One saith this booke is too long: another, too short: the third, of due length; and for fine phrase and style, the like [of] that booke was not made a great while. It is all lies, said another; the booke is starke naught."
Choice of Change; 1585. 4to., sign. N. i.
The Alcove
[Enlarge]
SOFTLY blew the breeze, and merrily sung the lark, when Lisardo quitted his bed-chamber at seven in the morning, and rang lustily at my outer gate for admission. So early a visitor put the whole house in commotion; nor was it without betraying some marks of peevishness and irritability that, on being informed of his arrival, I sent word by the servant to know what might be the cause of such an interruption. The reader will readily forgive this trait of harshness and precipitancy, on my part, when he is informed that I was then just enjoying the "honey dew" of sleep, after many wakeful and restless hours.
Lisardo's name was announced: and his voice, conveyed in the sound of song-singing, from the bottom of the garden, left the name of the visitorno longer in doubt. I made an effort, and sprung from my bed; and, on looking through the venetian blinds, I discovered our young bibliomaniacal convert with a book sticking out of his pocket, another half opened in his hand (upon which his eyes were occasionally cast), and a third kept firmly under his left arm. I thrust my head, "night-cap, tassel and all," out of window, and hailed him; not, however, before a delicious breeze, wafted over a bed of mignonette, had electrified me in a manner the most agreeable imaginable.
Lisardo heard, and hailed me in return. His eyes sparkled with joy; his step was quick and elastic; and an unusual degree of animation seemed to pervade his whole frame. "Here," says he, "here isThe British Bibliographer[414]in my hand, a volume of Mr. Beloe'sAnecdotes of Literature and Scarce Booksin my pocket, while another, of Mr. D'Israeli'sCuriosities of Literature, is kept snugly under my arm, as a corps de reserve, or rallying point. If these things savour not of bibliography, I must despair of ever attaining to the exalted character of a Bibliomaniac!"
[414]The British Bibliographeris a periodical publication; being a continuation of a similar work under the less popular title ofThe Censura Literaria; concerning which seep. 52, ante. It is a pity that Mr. Savage does not continue hisBritish Librarian; (of which 18 numbers are already published) as it forms a creditable supplement to Oldys's work under a similar title; videp. 51, ante. A few of the ensuing numbers might be well devoted to an analysis ofSir William Dugdale'sworks, with correct lists of the plates in the same.
[414]The British Bibliographeris a periodical publication; being a continuation of a similar work under the less popular title ofThe Censura Literaria; concerning which seep. 52, ante. It is a pity that Mr. Savage does not continue hisBritish Librarian; (of which 18 numbers are already published) as it forms a creditable supplement to Oldys's work under a similar title; videp. 51, ante. A few of the ensuing numbers might be well devoted to an analysis ofSir William Dugdale'sworks, with correct lists of the plates in the same.
"You are up betimes," said I. "What dream has disturbed your rest?" "None" replied he; "but the most delightful visions have appeared to me during my sleep. Since you left Lorenzo's, I have sipt nectar with Leland, and drunk punch with Bagford. Richard Murray has given me a copy of Rastell'sPastime of People,[415]and Thomas Britton has bequeathed to me an entire library of the Rosicrusian[416]philosophy. Moreover, the venerable form of Sir Thomas Bodley hasapproached me; reminding me of my solemn promise to spend a few autumnal weeks,[417]in the ensuing year, within the precincts of his grand library. In short, half the bibliomaniacs, whom Lysander so enthusiastically commended last night, have paid their devoirs to me in my dreams, and nothing could be more handsome than their conduct towards me."
[415]The reader may have met with some slight notices of this curious work in pp.331;337;385;392;417; ante.[416]Seep. 332, ante.[417]Seep. 49, ante.
[415]The reader may have met with some slight notices of this curious work in pp.331;337;385;392;417; ante.
[416]Seep. 332, ante.
[417]Seep. 49, ante.
This discourse awakened my friends, Lysander and Philemon; who each, from different rooms, put their heads out of window, and hailed the newly-risen sun with night caps which might have been mistaken for Persian turbans. Such an unexpected sight caused Lisardo to burst out into a fit of laughter, and to banter my guests in his usual strain of vivacity. But on our promising him that we would speedily join his peripatetic bibliographical reveries, he gave a turn towards the left, and was quickly lost in a grove of Acacia and Laurustinus. For my part, instead of keeping this promise, I instinctively sought my bed; and found the observation of Franklin,—of air-bathing being favourable to slumber,—abundantly verified—for I was hardly settled under the clothes 'ere I fell asleep: and, leaving my guests to make good their appointment with my visitor, I enjoyed a sweet slumber of more than two hours.
As early rising produces a keen appetite for bodily, as well as mental, gratification, I found my companions clamorous for their breakfast. A little before ten o'clock, we were all prepared to make a formal attack upon muffins, cake, coffee, tea, eggs, and cold tongue. The window was thrown open; and through the branches of the clustering vine, which covered the upper part of it, the sun shot a warmer ray; while the spicy fragrance from surrounding parterres, and jessamine bowers, made even such bibliomaniacs as my guests forgetful of the gaily-coated volumes which surrounded them. At length the conversation was systematically commenced on the part of Lysander.
Lysand.To-morrow, Philemon and myself take ourdeparture. We would willingly have staid the week; but business of a pressing nature callshimto Manchester—andmyselfto Bristol and Exeter.
Lis.Some bookseller,[418]I warrant, has published a thumping catalogue at each of these places. Ha!—here I have you, sober-minded Lysander! You are as arrant a book-madman as any of those renowned bibliomaniacs whom you celebrated yesterday evening!—Yet, if you love me, take me with you! My pistoles are not exhausted.
[418]I ought to have noticed, under Lysander's eulogy uponLondon Booksellers(seep. 308, ante) the very handsome manner in which Mr. Roscoe alludes to their valuable catalogues—as having been of service to him in directing his researches into foreign literature. His words are these: "The rich and extensive Catalogues published byEdwards,Payne, and otherLondon Booksellers, who have of late years diligently sought for, and imported into England, whatever is curious or valuable in foreign literature, have also contributed to the success of my inquiries."Lorenzo de Medici: pref. p.xxvii., edit. 1800, 8vo.
[418]I ought to have noticed, under Lysander's eulogy uponLondon Booksellers(seep. 308, ante) the very handsome manner in which Mr. Roscoe alludes to their valuable catalogues—as having been of service to him in directing his researches into foreign literature. His words are these: "The rich and extensive Catalogues published byEdwards,Payne, and otherLondon Booksellers, who have of late years diligently sought for, and imported into England, whatever is curious or valuable in foreign literature, have also contributed to the success of my inquiries."Lorenzo de Medici: pref. p.xxvii., edit. 1800, 8vo.
Phil.Peace, Lisardo!—but you are, in truth, a bit of a prophet. It is even as you surmise. We have each received a forwarded letter, informing us of very choice and copious collections of books about to be sold at these respective places. While I take my departure for Mr. Ford of Manchester, Lorenzo is about to visit the book-treasures of Mr. Dyer of Exeter, and Mr. Gutch of Bristol:—but, indeed, were not this the case, our abode here must terminate on the morrow.
Lis.I suppose the names you have just mentioned describe the principal booksellers at the several places you intend visiting.
Lysand.Even so: yet I will make no disparaging comparisons.[419]We speak only of what has come withinour limited experience. There may be many brave and sagacious bibliopolists whose fame has not reached our ears, nor perhaps has any one of the present circle ever heard of the late Mr. Miller of Bungay;[420]who, as Iremember my father to have said, in spite of blindness and multifarious occupations, attached himself to the book-selling trade with inconceivable ardour and success. But a word, Lisardo!
[419]Lysander is right. Since the note upon Mr. Ford's catalogue of 1810 was written (seep. 123, ante), the same bookseller has put forth another voluminous catalogue, of nine thousand and odd articles; forming, with the preceding, 15,729 lots. This is doing wonders for a provincial town; and that acommercialone!! Of Mr. Gutch's spirit and enterprise some mention has been made before atp. 404, ante. He is, as yet, hardlymellowedin his business; but a few years only will display him as thoroughlyripenedas any of his brethren. He comes from a worthy stock; long known at ourAlma Mater Oxoniensis:—and as a dutiful son of my University Mother, and in common with every one who is acquainted with his respectable family, I wish him all the success which he merits. Mr. George Dyer of Exeter is a distinguishedveteranin the book-trade: his catalogue of 1810, in two parts, containing 19,945 articles, has, I think, never been equalled by that of any provincial bookseller, for the value and singularity of the greater number of the volumes described in it. As Lysander had mentioned the foregoing book-vending gentlemen, I conceived myself justified inappendingthis note. I could speak with pleasure and profit of the catalogues of booksellers to thenorth of the Tweed—(seep. 415, ante); but for fear of awaking all the frightful passions of wrath, jealousy, envy—I stop: declaring, from the bottom of my heart, in the language of an auld northern bard:I hait flatterie; and into wourdis plane,And unaffectit language, I delyte:(Quod Maister Alexander Arbothnat; in anno1572.)[420]There is something so original in the bibliomanical character of the above-mentioned Mr. Miller that I trust the reader will forgive my saying a word or two concerning him. Thomas Miller of Bungay, in Suffolk, was born in 1731, and died in 1804. He was put apprentice to a grocer in Norwich: but neither the fragrance of spices and teas, nor the lusciousness of plums and figs, could seduce young Miller from his darling passion of reading, and of buying odd volumes of theGentleman'sandUniversal Magazinewith his spare money. His genius was, however, sufficiently versatile to embrace both trades; for in 1755, he set up for himself in the character ofGrocerandBookseller. I have heard Mr. Otridge, of the Strand, discourse most eloquently upon the brilliant manner in which Mr. Miller conducted his complicated concerns; and which, latterly, were devoted entirely to theBibliomania. Although Bungay was too small and obscure for a spirit like Miller's to disclose its full powers, yet he continued in it till his death; and added a love of portrait and coin, to that of book, collecting.MillerFor fifty years his stock, in these twin departments, was copious and respectable; and notwithstanding total blindness, which afflicted him during the last six years of his life, he displayed uncommon cheerfulness, activity, and even skill in knowing where the different classes of books were arranged in his shop. Mr. Miller was a warm loyalist, and an enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Pitt. In 1795, when provincial copper coins were very prevalent, our bibliomaniac caused a die of himself to be struck; intending to strike some impressions of it upon gold and silver, as well as upon copper. He began with the latter; and the die breaking when only 23 impressions were struck off, Miller, in the true spirit of numismaticalvirtû, declined having a fresh one made. View here, gentle reader, a wood-cut taken from the same: "This coin, which is very finely engraved, and bears a strong profile likeness of himself, is known to collectors by the name of 'The Miller Halfpenny.' Mr. Miller was extremely careful into whose hands the impressions went; and they are now become so rare as to produce at sales from three to five guineas."Gentleman's Magazine; vol. lxxiv., p. 664.
[419]Lysander is right. Since the note upon Mr. Ford's catalogue of 1810 was written (seep. 123, ante), the same bookseller has put forth another voluminous catalogue, of nine thousand and odd articles; forming, with the preceding, 15,729 lots. This is doing wonders for a provincial town; and that acommercialone!! Of Mr. Gutch's spirit and enterprise some mention has been made before atp. 404, ante. He is, as yet, hardlymellowedin his business; but a few years only will display him as thoroughlyripenedas any of his brethren. He comes from a worthy stock; long known at ourAlma Mater Oxoniensis:—and as a dutiful son of my University Mother, and in common with every one who is acquainted with his respectable family, I wish him all the success which he merits. Mr. George Dyer of Exeter is a distinguishedveteranin the book-trade: his catalogue of 1810, in two parts, containing 19,945 articles, has, I think, never been equalled by that of any provincial bookseller, for the value and singularity of the greater number of the volumes described in it. As Lysander had mentioned the foregoing book-vending gentlemen, I conceived myself justified inappendingthis note. I could speak with pleasure and profit of the catalogues of booksellers to thenorth of the Tweed—(seep. 415, ante); but for fear of awaking all the frightful passions of wrath, jealousy, envy—I stop: declaring, from the bottom of my heart, in the language of an auld northern bard:
[420]There is something so original in the bibliomanical character of the above-mentioned Mr. Miller that I trust the reader will forgive my saying a word or two concerning him. Thomas Miller of Bungay, in Suffolk, was born in 1731, and died in 1804. He was put apprentice to a grocer in Norwich: but neither the fragrance of spices and teas, nor the lusciousness of plums and figs, could seduce young Miller from his darling passion of reading, and of buying odd volumes of theGentleman'sandUniversal Magazinewith his spare money. His genius was, however, sufficiently versatile to embrace both trades; for in 1755, he set up for himself in the character ofGrocerandBookseller. I have heard Mr. Otridge, of the Strand, discourse most eloquently upon the brilliant manner in which Mr. Miller conducted his complicated concerns; and which, latterly, were devoted entirely to theBibliomania. Although Bungay was too small and obscure for a spirit like Miller's to disclose its full powers, yet he continued in it till his death; and added a love of portrait and coin, to that of book, collecting.MillerFor fifty years his stock, in these twin departments, was copious and respectable; and notwithstanding total blindness, which afflicted him during the last six years of his life, he displayed uncommon cheerfulness, activity, and even skill in knowing where the different classes of books were arranged in his shop. Mr. Miller was a warm loyalist, and an enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Pitt. In 1795, when provincial copper coins were very prevalent, our bibliomaniac caused a die of himself to be struck; intending to strike some impressions of it upon gold and silver, as well as upon copper. He began with the latter; and the die breaking when only 23 impressions were struck off, Miller, in the true spirit of numismaticalvirtû, declined having a fresh one made. View here, gentle reader, a wood-cut taken from the same: "This coin, which is very finely engraved, and bears a strong profile likeness of himself, is known to collectors by the name of 'The Miller Halfpenny.' Mr. Miller was extremely careful into whose hands the impressions went; and they are now become so rare as to produce at sales from three to five guineas."Gentleman's Magazine; vol. lxxiv., p. 664.
Lis.Twenty, if you please.
Lysand.What are become of Malvolio's busts and statues, of which you were so solicitous to attend the sale, not long ago?
Lis.I care not a brass farthing for them:—only I do rather wish that I had purchased the Count de Neny'sCatalogue of the Printed Books andManscriptsin the Royal Library of France. That golden opportunity is irrevocably lost!
Phil.You wished for these books, toset fireto them perhaps—keeping up the ancient custom so solemnly established by your father?[421]
[421]The reader may not object to turn for one moment top. 27, ante.
[421]The reader may not object to turn for one moment top. 27, ante.
Lis.No more of this heart-rending subject! I thought I had made ample atonement.
Lysand.'Tis true: and so we forgive and forget. Happy change!—and all hail this salubrious morning, which witnesses the complete and effectual conversion of Lisardo! Instead of laughing at our book-hobbies, and ridiculing all bibliographical studies—which, even by a bibliographer in the dry department of the law, have been rather eloquently defended and enforced[422]—behold this young bibliomaniacal chevalier, not daunted by the rough handling of a London Book-Auction, anxious to mount his courser, and scour the provincial fields of bibliography! Happy change! From my heart I congratulate you!
[422]"Our nation (says Mr. Bridgeman) has been too inattentive to bibliographical criticisms and enquiries; for, generally, the English reader is obliged to resort to foreign writers to satisfy his mind as to the value of authors. It behoves us, however, to consider that there is not a more useful, or a more desirable branch of education than a knowledge of books; which, being correctly attained, and judiciously exercised, will prove the touchstone of intrinsic merit, and have the effect of saving many a spotless page from prostitution."Legal Bibliography; 1807, 8vo. (To the reader.)
[422]"Our nation (says Mr. Bridgeman) has been too inattentive to bibliographical criticisms and enquiries; for, generally, the English reader is obliged to resort to foreign writers to satisfy his mind as to the value of authors. It behoves us, however, to consider that there is not a more useful, or a more desirable branch of education than a knowledge of books; which, being correctly attained, and judiciously exercised, will prove the touchstone of intrinsic merit, and have the effect of saving many a spotless page from prostitution."Legal Bibliography; 1807, 8vo. (To the reader.)
Lis.From the bottom of mine, I congratulate you,Lysander, upon the resuming of your wonted spirits! I had imagined that the efforts of yesterday would have completely exhausted you. How rapturously do I look forward for theSymptoms of the Bibliomaniato be told this morning in Lorenzo'sAlcove! You have not forgotten your promise!
Lysand.No, indeed; but if I am able to do justice to the elucidation of so important a subject, it will be in consequence of having enjoyed a placid, though somewhat transient, slumber: notwithstanding the occurrence of a very uncommondream!
Lis."I dreamt a dream last night;" which has been already told—but what was yours?
Lysand.Nay, it is silly to entertain one another with stories of phantastic visions of the night. I have known the most placid-bosomed men grow downright angry at the very introduction of such a discourse.
Phil.That may be; but we have, luckily, no suchplacidly-mouldedbosoms in the present society. I love this sort of gossipping during breakfast, of all things. If our host permit, do give us your dream, Lysander!
Lis.The dream!—The dream!—I entreat you.
Lysand.I fear you will fall asleep, and dream yourself, before the recital of it be concluded. But I will get through it as well as I can.
Methought I was gently lifted from the ground into the air by a being of very superior size, but of an inexpressible sweetness of countenance. Although astonished by the singularity of my situation, I was far from giving way entirely to fear; but, with a mixture of anxiety and resignation, awaited the issue of the event. My Guide or Protector (for so this being must now be called) looked upon me with an air of tenderness, mingled with reproof; intimating, as I conceived, that the same superior Power, which had thus transported me above my natural element, would of necessity keep me in safety. This quieted my apprehensions.
We had travelled together through an immensity of space, and could discover the world below as one smalldarkened spot, when my Guide interrupted the awful silence that had been preserved, by the following exclamation: "Approach, O man, the place of thy destination—compose thy perturbed spirits, and let all thy senses be awakened to a proper understanding of the scene which thou art about to behold." So saying, he moved along with an indescribable velocity; and while my eyes were dazzled by an unusual effulgence of light, I found myself at rest upon a solid seat—formed of crystal, of prodigious magnitude.
My guide then fixed himself at my right hand, and after a vehement ejaculation, accompanied by gestures, which had the effect of enchantment upon me, he extended a sceptre of massive gold, decorated with emeralds and sapphires. Immediately there rose up aMirrorof gigantic dimensions, around which was inscribed, in fifty languages, the word "Truth." I sat in mute astonishment. "Examine," said my Guide, with a voice the most encouraging imaginable, "examine the objects reflected upon the surface of this mirror." "There are none that are discernible to my eyes," I replied. "Thou shalt soon be gratified then," resumed this extraordinary being (with a severe smile upon his countenance), "but first let me purge thine eyes from those films of prejudice which, in the world you inhabit, are apt to intercept the light ofTruth." He then took a handful of aromatic herbs, and, rubbing them gently upon my temples, gave me the power of contemplating, with perfect discernment, the objects before me.
Wonderful indeed was this scene: for upon the surface of theMirrorthe whole world seemed to be reflected! At first, I could not controul my feelings: but, like a child that springs forward to seize an object greatly beyond its grasp, I made an effort to leave my seat, and tominglein the extraordinary scene. Here, however, my guide interfered—and, in a manner the most peremptory and decisive, forbade all further participation of it. "Viewit attentively," replied he,"and impress firmly on thy memory what thou shalt see—it may solace thee the remainder of thy days."
The authoritative air, with which these words were delivered, quite repressed and unnerved me. I obeyed, and intently viewed the objects before me. The first thing that surprised me was the representation of all the metropolitan cities of Europe. London, Paris, Vienna, Berlin, and Petersburg, in particular, occupied my attention; and, what was stillmoresurprising, I seemed to be perfect master of every event going on in them—but more particularly of the transactions ofBodies Corporate. I saw Presidents in their chairs, with Secretaries and Treasurers by their sides; and to whatever observations were made the most implicit attention was paid. Here, an eloquent Lecturer was declaiming upon the beauty of morality, and the deformity of vice: there, a scientific Professor was unlocking the hidden treasures of nature, and explaining how Providence, in all its measures, was equally wonderful and wise. The experiments which ensued, and which corroborated his ingenious and profound remarks, suspended a well-informed audience in rapturous attention; which was followed by instinctive bursts of applause.
Again I turned my eyes, and, contiguous to this scene, viewed the proceedings of two learned sister Societies, distinguished for their labours inPhilosophyandAntiquity. Methought I saw the spirits ofNewtonand ofDugdale, looking down with complacency upon them, and congratulating each other upon thegeneralprogress of civilization since they had ceased to mingle among men. "These institutions," observed my Guide, "form the basis of rational knowledge, and are the source of innumerable comforts: for themanyare benefitted by the researches and experiments of thefew. It is easy to laugh at such societies, but it is not quite so easy to remedy the inconveniences which would be felt, if they were extinct. Nations become powerful in proportion to their wisdom; it has uniformly beenfound that where philosophers lived, and learned men wrote, there the arts have flourished, and heroism and patriotism have prevailed. True it is that discrepancies will sometimes interrupt the harmony of public bodies. But why is perfection to be expected, where every thing must necessarily be imperfect? It is the duty of man to make thenearest approachesto public and private happiness. And if, as with a sponge, he wipe away such establishments, genius has little incentive to exertion, and merit has still less hope of reward. Now cast your eyes on a different scene."
I obeyed, and, within the same city, saw a great number of Asylums and Institutions for the ignorant and helpless. I saw youth instructed, age protected, the afflicted comforted, and the diseased cured. My emotions at this moment were wonderfully strong—they were perceived by my guide, who immediately begged of me to consider the manner by whichepidemic maladieswere prevented or alleviated, and especially howthe most fatal of themhad been arrested in its progress. I attentively examined the objects before me, and saw thousands of smiling children and enraptured mothers walking confidently 'midst plague and death! I saw them, happy in the protection which had been afforded them by the most useful and most nutritious of animals! "Enough," exclaimed my guide, "thou seest here the glorious result of a philosophical mind, gifted with unabatable ardour of experiment. Thou wilt acknowledge that, compared with the triumph whichsuch a mindenjoys, the conquests of heroes are puerile, and the splendour of monarchy is dim!" During this strain, I fancied I could perceive the human being, alluded to by my guide, retire apart in conversation with another distinguished friend of humanity, by those unwearied exertions the condition of many thousand poor people had been meliorated.
"There is yet," resumed my guide, "another scene equally interesting as the preceding. From a pure morality flows a pure religion: look therefore on thoseengaged in the services ofChristianity." I looked, and saw a vast number of my fellow-creatures prostrate in adoration before their Creator and Redeemer. I fancied I could hear the last strains of their hallelujahs ascending to the spot whereon I sat. "Observe," said my Protector, "all do not worship in the same manner, because all assent not to the same creed; but the intention of each may be pure: at least, common charity teaches us thus to think, till some open act betray a malignity of principle. Toleration is the vital spark of religion: arm the latter with the whips of persecution, and you convert her into a fiend scattering terror and dismay! In your own country you enjoy a liberty of sentiment beyond every other on the face of the globe. Learn to be grateful for such an inestimable happiness."
These words had hardly escaped my guide, when I was irresistibly led to look on another part of the Mirror where a kind of imperial magnificence, combined with the severest discipline, prevailed. "You are contemplating," resumed my preternatural Monitor, "one of the most interesting scenes in Europe. See the effect of revolutionary commotions! While you view the sable spirit of the last monarch of France gliding along, at a distance, with an air of sorrow and indignation; while you observe a long line of legitimate princes, exiled from their native country, and dependant upon the contributions of other powers; mark the wonderful, the unparalleled reverse of human events! and acknowledge that the preservation of the finest specimens of art, the acquisition of every thing which can administer to the wants of luxury, or decorate the splendour of a throne—the acclamations of hired multitudes or bribed senates—can reflect little lustre onthat characterwhich still revels in the frantic wish of enslaving the world! It is true, you see yonder, Vienna, Petersburg, Stockholm, and Berlin, bereft of their ancient splendour, and bowing, as it were, at the feet of a despot—but had these latter countries kept alive one spark of that patriotism which so much endears to us the memories of Greeceand Rome—had they not, in a great measure, become disunited by factions, we might, even in these days, however degenerate, have witnessed something like that national energy which was displayed in the bay of Salamis, and on the plains of Marathon."
My Guide perceiving me to be quite dejected during these remarks, directed my attention to another part of the Mirror, which reflected the transactions of theWesternandEasternworld.
At first, a kind ofmistspread itself upon the glass, and prevented me from distinguishing any object. This, however, gradually dissolved, and was succeeded by a thick, black smoke, which involved every thing in impenetrable obscurity. Just as I was about to turn to my guide, and demand the explanation of these appearances, the smoke rolled away, and instantaneously, there flashed forth a thousand bickering flames. "What," cried I, "is the meaning of these objects?" "Check, for one moment, your impatience, and your curiosity shall be gratified," replied my guide. I then distinctly viewed thousands ofBlack Men, who had been groaning under the rod of oppression, starting up in all the transport of renovated life, and shouting aloud "We are free!" One tall commanding figure, who seemed to exercise the rights of a chieftain among them, gathered many tribes around him, and addressed them in the following few, but comprehensive, words: "Countrymen, it has pleased the Great God above to make man instrumental to the freedom of his fellow-creatures. While we lament our past, let us be grateful for our present, state: and never let us cease, each revolving year, to build an altar of stones to the memory, of thatgreatandgood man, who hath principally been the means of ourfreedom from slavery. No: we will regularly perform this solemn act, as long as there shall remain one pebble upon our shores."
"Thus much," resumed my Guide, "for the dawning felicities of thewesternworld: but see how theeasternempires are yet ignorant and unsettled!" I was about toturn my eyes to Persia and India, to China and Japan, when to my astonishment, the surface of the Mirror became perfectly blackened, except in some few circular parts, which were tinged with the colour of blood. "The future is a fearful sight," said my Guide; "we are forbidden its contemplation, and can only behold the gloomy appearances before us: they are ominous ones!"
My mind, on which so many and such various objects had produced a confused effect, was quite overpowered and distracted. I leaned upon the arm of the chair, and, covering my face with my hands, became absorbed in a thousand ideas, when a sudden burst of thunder made me start from my seat—and, looking forward, I perceived that theMirror, with all its magical illusions had vanished away! My preternatural Guide then placed himself before me, but in an altered female form. A hundred various coloured wings sprung from her arms, and her feet seemed to be shod with sandals of rubies; around which numerous cherubs entwined themselves. The perfume that arose from the flapping of her wings was inexpressibly grateful; and the soft silvery voices of these cherubic attendants had an effect truly enchanting.
No language can adequately describe my sensations on viewing this extraordinary change of object. I gazed with rapture upon my wonderful Guide, whose countenance now beamed with benevolence and beauty. "Ah!" exclaimed I, "this is a vision of happiness never to be realized! Thou art a being that I am doomed never to meet with in the world below." "Peace:" whispered an unknown voice; "injure not thy species by such a remark: the object before thee is called by a name that is familiar to thee—it is 'Candour.' She is the handmaid of Truth, the sister of Virtue, and the priestess of Religion."
I was about to make reply, when a figure of terrific mien, and enormous dimensions, rushed angrily towards me, and, taking me up in my crystal chair, bore me precipitately to the earth. In my struggles to disengagemyself, I awoke: and on looking about me, with difficulty could persuade myself that I was an inhabitant of this world. My sensations were, at first, confused and unpleasant; but a reflection on theMirror of Truth, and its divine expositor, in a moment tranquillized my feelings. And thus have I told you my dream.
Lysander had hardly concluded the recital of his dream—during which it was impossible for us to think of quaffing coffee or devouring muffins—when the servant entered with a note from Lorenzo:
"My dear Friend,"The morning is propitious. Hasten tothe Alcove. My sisters are twining honey-suckles and jessamine round the portico, and I have carried thither a respectable corps of bibliographical volumes, for Lysander to consult, in case his memory should fail. All here invoke the zephyrs to waft their best wishes to you."Truly your's,"Lorenzo."
"My dear Friend,
"The morning is propitious. Hasten tothe Alcove. My sisters are twining honey-suckles and jessamine round the portico, and I have carried thither a respectable corps of bibliographical volumes, for Lysander to consult, in case his memory should fail. All here invoke the zephyrs to waft their best wishes to you.
"Truly your's,
"Lorenzo."
The note was no sooner read than we all, as if by instinct, started up; and, finishing our breakfast as rapidly as did the Trojans when they expected an early visit from the Grecians, we sallied towards Lorenzo's house, and entered his pleasure grounds. Nothing could be more congenial than every circumstance and object which presented itself. The day was clear, calm, and warm; while a crisp autumnal air