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 Lord _One thousand eight hundred and eleven_; and without touching upon the collections of LIVING 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 my BOOK-COLLECTING HISTORY, 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--with _Personal 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 morning _conversazione_ in THE ALCOVE?

BELIN. Surely, Lysander may find something in the fruitful pigeon-holes of his imagination--as the Abbe Sieyes used to do--from which he may draw forth some system or other?

ALMAN. You have all talked loudly and learnedly of the BOOK-DISEASE; but I wish to know whether a _mere collector_ of books be a bibliomaniac?

LYSAND. Certainly not. There are SYMPTOMS of this disease _within the very books themselves_ of 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 your _symptomatic_ harangue 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 to my 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 small _Aldine Petrarch, printed upon_ VELLUM, under Lysander's pillow, as a 'Pignus Amicitiae.'--But we were all to assemble together in Lorenzo's ALCOVE on 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!

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The reader is here presented with one of the "Facs," or ornamental letters in _Pierce Ploughman's Creed_.]

PART VI.

=The Alcove.=

SYMPTOMS OF THE BIBLIOMANIA.----PROBABLE MEANS OF ITS CURE.

"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.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

=The Alcove.=

SYMPTOMS OF THE BIBLIOMANIA.----PROBABLE MEANS OF ITS CURE.

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 visitor no 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 is _The British Bibliographer_[414] in my hand, a volume of Mr. Beloe's _Anecdotes of Literature and Scarce Books_ in my pocket, while another, of Mr. D'Israeli's _Curiosities 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!"

[Footnote 414: _The British Bibliographer_ is a periodical publication; being a continuation of a similar work under the less popular title of _The Censura Literaria_; concerning which see p. 52, ante. It is a pity that Mr.

Savage does not continue his _British Librarian_; (of which 18 numbers are already published) as it forms a creditable supplement to Oldys's work under a similar title; vide p.

51, ante. A few of the ensuing numbers might be well devoted to an analysis of _Sir William Dugdale's_ works, 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's _Pastime 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 has approached 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."

[Footnote 415: The reader may have met with some slight notices of this curious work in pp. 331; 337; 385; 392; 417; ante.]

[Footnote 416: See p. 332, ante.]

[Footnote 417: See p. 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 our departure. We would willingly have staid the week; but business of a pressing nature calls _him_ to Manchester--and _myself_ to Bristol and Exeter.