the love affairs of a bibliomaniac(藏书癖者的爱情)-第12节
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to him that famous passage between Kit North and the Ettrick Shepherd；
wherein the shepherd discourses boastfully of his prowess as a piscator of
sawmon。
As the sun approached midheaven and its heat became insupportable； I
raised my umbrella； to this sensible proceeding my bookseller objectedin
fact； there was hardly any reasonable suggestion I had to make for
beguiling the time that my bookseller did not protest against it； and when
finally I produced my ‘‘Newcastle Fisher's Garlands'' from my basket； and
began to troll those spirited lines beginning
Away wi' carking care and gloom That make life's
pathway weedy O！ A cheerful glass makes flowers to bloom
And lightsome hours fly speedy O！
he gathered in his rod and tackle； and declared that it was no use trying
to catch fish while Bedlam ran riot。
As for me； I had a delightful time of it； I caught no fish； to be sure： but
what of that？ I COULD have caught fish had I so desired； but； as I have
already intimated to you and as I have always maintained and always shall；
the mere catching of fish is the least of the many enjoyments
comprehended in the broad； gracious art of angling。
Even my bookseller was compelled to admit ultimately that I was a
worthy disciple of Walton； for when we had returned to the club house and
had partaken of our supper I regaled the company with many a cheery
tale and merry song which I had gathered from my books。 Indeed； before
I returned to the city I was elected an honorary member of the club by
acclamation not for the number of fish I had expiscated （for I did not
catch one）； but for that mastery of the science of angling and the literature
and the traditions and the religion and the philosophy thereof which； by
the grace of the companionship of books； I had achieved。
It is said that； with his feet over the fender； Macaulay could discourse
learnedly of French poetry； art； and philosophy。 Yet he never visited
Paris that he did not experience the most exasperating difficulties in
making himself understood by the French customs officers。
In like manner I am a fender…fisherman。 With my shins toasting
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
before a roaring fire； and with Judge Methuen at my side； I love to exploit
the joys and the glories of angling。 The Judge is ‘‘a brother of the angle；''
as all will allow who have heard him tell Father Prout's story of the bishop
and the turbots or heard him sing
With angle rod and lightsome heart； Our conscience clear； we
gay depart To pebbly brooks and purling streams； And ne'er a care
to vex our dreams。
And how could the lot of the fender…fisherman be happier？ No
colds； quinsies or asthmas follow his incursions into the realms of fancy
where in cool streams and peaceful lakes a legion of chubs and trouts and
sawmon await him； in fancy he can hie away to the far…off Yalrow and
once more share the benefits of the companionship of Kit North； the
Shepherd； and that noble Edinburgh band； in fancy he can trudge the
banks of the Blackwater with the sage of Watergrasshill； in fancy he can
hear the music of the Tyne and feel the wind sweep cool and fresh o'er
Coquetdale； in fancy； too； he knows the friendships which only he can
knowthe friendships of the immortals whose spirits hover where human
love and sympathy attract them。
How well I love ye； O my precious books my Prout； my Wilson； my
Phillips； my Berners； my Doubleday； my Roxby； my Chatto； my
Thompson； my Crawhall！ For ye are full of joyousness and cheer； and
your songs uplift me and make me young and strong again。
And thou； homely little brown thing with worn leaves； yet more
precious to me than all jewels of the earthcome； let me take thee from
thy shelf and hold thee lovingly in my hands and press thee tenderly to this
aged and slow…pulsing heart of mine！ Dost thou remember how I found
thee half a century ago all tumbled in a lot of paltry trash？ Did I not
joyously possess thee for a sixpence； and have I not cherished thee full
sweetly all these years？ My Walton； soon must we part forever； when I
am gone say unto him who next shall have thee to his own that with his
latest breath an old man blessed thee！
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
VIII
BALLADS AND THEIR MAKERS
One of the most interesting spots in all London to me is Bunhill Fields
cemetery； for herein are the graves of many whose memory I revere。 I
had heard that Joseph Ritson was buried here； and while my sister； Miss
Susan； lingered at the grave of her favorite poet； I took occasion to spy
around among the tombstones in the hope of discovering the last resting…
place of the curious old antiquary whose labors in the field of balladry
have placed me under so great a debt of gratitude to him。
But after I had searched in vain for somewhat more than an hour one
of the keepers of the place told me that in compliance with Ritson's earnest
desire while living； that antiquary's grave was immediately after the
interment of the body levelled down and left to the care of nature； with
no stone to designate its location。 So at the present time no one knows
just where old Ritson's grave is； only that within that vast enclosure where
so many thousand souls sleep their last sleep the dust of the famous
ballad…lover lies fast asleep in the bosom of mother earth。
I have never been able to awaken in Miss Susan any enthusiasm for
balladry。 My worthy sister is of a serious turn of mind； and I have heard
her say a thousand times that convivial songs （which is her name for
balladry） are inspirations； if not actually compositions； of the devil。 In
her younger days Miss Susan performed upon the melodeon with much
discretion； and at one time I indulged the delusive hope that eventually she
would not disdain to join me in the vocal performance of the best ditties of
D'Urfey and his ilk。
If I do say it myself； I had a very pretty voice thirty or forty years ago；
and even at the present time I can deliver the ballad of King Cophetua and
the beggar maid with amazing spirit when I have my friend Judge
Methuen at my side and a bowl of steaming punch between us。 But my
education of Miss Susan ended without being finished。 We two learned
to perform the ballad of Sir Patrick Spens very acceptably； but Miss Susan
abandoned the copartnership when I insisted that we proceed to the
sprightly ditty beginning；
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Life's short hours too fast are hasting Sweet amours
cannot be lasting。
My physician； Dr。 O'Rell； has often told me that he who has a well…
assorted ballad library should never be lonely； for the limitations of
balladly are so broad that within them are to be found performances
adapted to every mood to which humanity is liable。 And； indeed； my
experience confirms the truth of my physician's theory。 It were hard for
me to tell what delight I have had upon a hot and gusty day in a perusal of
the history of Robin Hood； for there is such actuality in those simple
rhymes as to dispel the troublesome environments of the present and
transport me to better times and pleasanter scenes。
Aha！ how many times have I walked with brave Robin in Sherwood
forest！ How many times have Little J
