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Page 51
From all that can be gathered upon the subject it would appear
that De Quincey was careless in his treatment of books; I have
read somewhere (but I forget where) that he used his forefinger
as a paper-cutter and that he did not hesitate to mutilate old
folios which he borrowed. But he was extraordinarily tender with
his manuscripts; and he was wont to carry in his pockets a soft
brush with which he used to dust off his manuscripts most
carefully before handing them to the publisher.
Sir Walter Scott was similarly careful with his books, and he
used, for purposes of dusting them, the end of a fox's tail set
in a handle of silver. Scott, was, however, particular and
systematic in the arrangement of his books, and his work-room,
with its choice bric-a-brac and its interesting collection of
pictures and framed letters, was a veritable paradise to the
visiting book-lover and curio-lover. He was as fond of early
rising as Francis Jeffrey was averse to it, and both these
eminent men were strongly attached to animal pets. Jeffrey
particularly affected an aged and garrulous parrot and an equally
disreputable little dog. Scott was so stanch a friend of dogs
that wherever he went he was accompanied by one or two--sometimes
by a whole kennel--of these faithful brutes.
In Mrs. Gordon's noble ``Memoirs'' we have a vivid picture of
Professor Wilson's workroom. All was confusion there: ``his room
was a strange mixture of what may be called order and untidiness,
for there was not a scrap of paper or a book that his hand could
not light upon in a moment, while to the casual eye, in search of
discovery, it would appear chaos.'' Wilson had no love for fine
furniture, and he seems to have crowded his books together
without regard to any system of classification. He had a habit
of mixing his books around with fishing-tackle, and his charming
biographer tells us it was no uncommon thing to find the ``Wealth
of Nations,'' ``Boxiana,'' the ``Faerie Queen,'' Jeremy Taylor,
and Ben Jonson occupying close quarters with fishing-rods,
boxing-gloves, and tins of barley-sugar.
Charles Lamb's favorite workshop was in an attic; upon the walls
of this room he and his sister pasted old prints and gay
pictures, and this resulted in giving the place a cheery aspect.
Lamb loved old books, old friends, old times; ``he evades the
present, he works at the future, and his affections revert to and
settle on the past,''--so says Hazlitt. His favorite books seem
to have been Bunyan's ``Holy War,'' Browne's ``Urn-Burial,''
Burton's ``Anatomy of Melancholy,'' Fuller's ``Worthies,'' and
Taylor's ``Holy Living and Dying.'' Thomas Westwood tells us
that there were few modern volumes in his library, it being his
custom to give away and throw away (as the same writer asserts)
presentation copies of contemporaneous literature. Says Barry
Cornwall: ``Lamb's pleasures lay amongst the books of the old
English writers,'' and Lamb himself uttered these memorable
words: ``I cannot sit and think--books think for me.''
Wordsworth, on the other hand, cared little for books; his
library was a small one, embracing hardly more than five hundred
volumes. He drew his inspiration not from books, but from
Nature. From all that I have heard of him I judge him to have
been a very dull man. Allibone relates of him that he once
remarked that he did not consider himself a witty poet.
``Indeed,'' quoth he, ``I don't think I ever was witty but once
in my life.''
His friends urged him to tell them about it. After some
hesitation, he said: ``Well, I will tell you. I was standing
some time ago at the entrance of Rydal Mount. A man accosted me
with the question: `Pray, sir, have you seen my wife pass by?'
Whereupon I retorted, `Why, my good friend, I didn't know till
this moment that you had a wife.' ''
Illustrative of Wordsworth's vanity, it is told that when it was
reported that the next Waverley novel was to be ``Rob Roy,'' the
poet took down his ``Ballads'' and read to the company ``Rob
Roy's Grave.'' Then he said gravely: ``I do not know what more
Mr. Scott can have to say on the subject.''
Wordsworth and Dickens disliked each other cordially. Having
been asked his opinion of the young novelist, Wordsworth
answered: ``Why, I'm not much given to turn critic on people I
meet; but, as you ask me, I will cordially avow that I thought
him a very talkative young person--but I dare say he may be very
clever. Mind, I don't want to say a word against him, for I have
never read a line he has written.''
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