TIME'S LIBRARY. An Extract from Travels in the Empyrean by Marcus Ærius, F.R.S. &c. WE were now shown into the library of Father Time, and, by good fortune, the old man happened to be there, arranging some volumes which appeared to have lately arrived. I was much surprised on looking round, to see the number of books so small; indeed, for magnitude, the library is surpassed by the sorriest modern collection. The whole room was not of great dimensions; about one half of it was filled with books, and the other was fitted up with shelves, for the reception of works as they came in. We found the venerable Librarian seated at a desk of adamant; he bore the marks of the greatest age of any being I had seen in my travels; his few scattered locks were bleached to a snowy whiteness; his face was indented with deep furrows; but there was a sparkling freshness in his eye, and his whole countenance indicated a great degree of youthful vigour, and uncommon penetration and sagacity. "With your leave, my good father, we have come to survey your library." He turned about, gave a quick stare, but uttered not a word. I advanced nearer. "A pleasant enough recreation this, Sir, for a leisure hour." "Pleasant, indeed! a plague on all such pleasures; 'tis such as these that have not left me the life of a dog. It is not enough that I should toil on from morning to night, and from night to morning, continually harrassed with one job or another-for every lazy lubber throws his burthen on my shoulders; but I must be distressed with this business also, which is every day getting worse upon my hands. Thanks to this pretty invention of printing, I have got more trouble in this department of late, in one month, than I used to do in a thousand years. It is not long since a few minutes in a morning, every twenty or thirty years, were sufficient to bring up my leeway. The host of writers were not so numerous in those days; and, besides, the difficulty of multiplying copies was so great, that all works of minor importance were allowed to sink into oblivion, and only a few of the best were thought worthy of sending to me, that I might make a selection but now I will have whole cart-loads of them at my door every year; and were I to admit all the productions of even half-a-dozen years, there would be more than sufficient to fill my whole library, even were I to throw its present contents to the dogs." "But," said 1, "printing is now brought to such a degree of perfection, and the facility of the operation so great, that many volumes are produced, on local and passing subjects, which are never meant to go down to posterity; and it would be as absurd to pester you with these, as it would be to send you a hand-bill or a lottery-puff. In my humble opinion, then, you would be much relieved by having some faithful deputy to make a proper selection previous to your own final revisal." "That is what I have long had," replied he; "do you suppose that I would have patience to tease through their multifarious heaps of trash!-no; had I to do so, I would lose all patience, and very likely, some day, in a passion kick the whole out of my study door, and leave posterity to do their best without them. But I will tell you how I manage. You see that stream which runs into the cistern behind the study door,-that is the stream called public opinion; it is of quicksilver, because the particles of which that metal is composed are individually, when disjoined, very unsteady and volatile, but, when united into one mass, form the steadiest and most equable fluid in existence. Into that stream, then, are all works thrown as they are published. Many sink to the bottom as soon as they are plunged in ; but all those which float down are received into this cistern. Sometimes, from the strength of the current, and from one book bearing up another, intruders will come down; but, as all are subjected to an inspection by me, such are not allowed to have a place on my shelves, but are thrown out, or put into a bycorner." I looked out from the window, in order to have a view of this famed stream. On the banks, I saw a number of people with poles and sticks in their hands, busily engaged in pushing off books from the shore. They tore out leaves from many, and sent them skimming down the current. To some they were tying inflated bladders of air, in order to make them float, while to others they hung large lumps of lead in a sly manner, by which I saw they were immediately sunk. "Are these people employed by you, Sir?" said 1. Employed by me! that they are not, indeed,-they are to me a continual annoyance, and the cause of much vexation and trouble in conducting this branch of my business. They very often sink works which would otherwise float down unmolested, and their bladders often support others a good way down the stream, to the great annoyance of the other floating volumes. But all their malice comes at last to nought; the feeble threads by which they tie on their lead gradually rot away, when the incumbered work rises again to the surface, and pursues its course with greater speed than before, and their inflated bubbles often burst, or silently waste to an empty skin, and down sinks the helpless volume, and sticks fast in the mud, never more to rise." I was proceeding to say, that, although I thought such persons might sometimes do harm, yet, on the whole, they were productive of good; but I observed that, during our conversation, he had been busy in laying up some volumes, and I had missed the opportunity of ascertaining what they were. It was ber on their backs. The next he took up were two thin volumes,—I read, Poems by T. Campbell. "This author," said Time, ought to be held up as an example to all modern writers, whether of prose or poetry, but especially of the latter; he is indeed an ancient in this respect, and reminds me of the good old times; he never obtrudes any thing on the public without selecting and polishing his pieces with the most respectful care. I willingly allot a place in my shelves for him,-voluminousness is a great drawback to the fame of a poet; The best of things beyond their measure cloy,' as my good friend Homer used to say." I took up a parcel of volumes tied together, and marked on the back, "Waverley," "Tales of my Landlord," &c. "Do you admit these ?" said I. "To be sure I do; and I have got them bound in the strongest and most substantial bindings, for many a tease will they get from the striplings of each succeeding generation: look up there, and see in what tatters are those books on that shelf, (these were, Tom Jones, Roderick Random, &c.); in a similar state will these be by the time they are as old." I expressed my surprise to see many novels of less note preserved here. need not be astonished at that," said he, "for a thousand years hence, when Civilization, and the ladies and gentlemen of her suit, getting tired of their old abodes, shall have taken up their residence in Otaheite or Kamschatka, when it will then be the fashion to walk on the crown of the head, and live at the bottom of coal mines, these works will afford some degree of amusement. People will then be gratified in knowing how their forefathers used to walk on their legs, and live on the surface of the earth,-how their grandmothers and maiden aunts used to sip tea, gossip, and coquette. Would it not have interested you to have heard how the mighty Cæsar delighted in sporting his four-in-hand,in what manner he set about shaving his beard,-how the grave, the thoughtful, stoical, and philosophic Cato, got into a passion with his wife for not mending a hole in his cloak,-or in what manner a Roman in vain that I begged him to take them down again, to see the titles; what he had once done was irrevocable; and, without a moment's delay, he proceeded to pile up others. The first book which I had an opportunity of looking at was a thin volume of a few pages, closely printed; it was Marmion, the Lady of the Lake, &c. On my expressing my surprise at seeing the fair creature so slenderly dressed, he told me that I was not to suppose he could admit every one in their court-dress; and be sides, said he, I could not stow that lady and her associates on my shelves with such a load of antiquated lum "You 66 are nymph would whimper and whine when she supposed herself in love? Here," said he, taking up the celebrated works of a noble poet, books which I must put on my shelves. Their poetical merit is undisputed. I say not so much for their morality, but I have a great variety of readers, and I must please all. To be sure, I have books which even angels might condescend to peruse, at the same time, I have others which afford special merriment to fiends." "Excuse me, Sir, but I think the binding of these is not so strong as will enable them to endure the handling which they will receive if their future fame shall continue to equal what it is at present." "Pooh!" said he; "do you think the rage is to continue for ever? Many circumstances conspire to heighten contemporary fame,-novelty, eccentricity, birth, &c.; now-a-days, it is as great a miracle to hear of a poetical lord as of a poetical ploughman or sheepshearer." A few more poetical works, and also some volumes on other subjects, followed, but with such rapidity, that I was barely able to ascertain their names, and had no opportunity of getting his remarks on them. I observed Wordsworth put by carefully ;-" "This is a poet," said the librarian," who will by no means be neglected by posterity, although he will perhaps be saved the rather disgusting preference of being bandied about in every clown's mouth, yet he will not want his admirers of a particular cast. Aye, aye, this is our Dutch poet! pah! I feel the smell of a fish dung-hill; well, well, he must go in; he has merit, but strangely applied. It is a pity I did not construct a second gallery, for such poets who delight in grovelling among the dung-hills of Parnassus, and diving amidst the mud of the pools of Helicon." "I perceive, Sir," said I, "that of the works which you are kindly storing up for futurity, a great proportion is of the poetical kind. Sure the present age has been wonderfully prolific in this department?" "Yes," returned he; "I have now in my possession a pretty mass of this immortal lumber. The labours of Hercules were but childrens' toying, compared to the toil of wading through my poetical shelves. It was a good turn that those Goths and Vandals did me the other day, in demolishing the greater number of my shelves of Greek and Roman compositions; I had not the heart to do it myself, and I confess I was a little vexed when I heard it was done; but it was a very good thing; it made those works which survived be more esteemed, and their merits better appreciated. I wish something of the same kind would happen to purge my modern shelves, otherwise I shall have to look out for a new house; and yet I am afraid this cannot be; that trick they have got, of printing by multiplying copies indefinitely, will baffle all attempts of this kind." I began to observe, that, though printing may cause trifling inconve niences, yet these are infinitely counterbalanced by its advantages; but he interrupted me-" It may be so; I have not leisure to consider the matter; all I can say is, I wish the man who first invented it had been at But I am trifling here, when my presence is required else where. Good-morning, Sir!" and he darted away in an instant, leaving us in astonishment at so much agility displayed by such an aged and decrepid being. C. Sonnet. Is this a vision, or by Nature wrought? Do not the trees bend downward, as they sought To catch one passing glance of this their queen, (The desert-queen, for whom this scene was made) Amid her court of rocks and woods array'd, Through which she trails her robe of silver-sheen, While countless mellow throats rich music pour, And win gay smiles from every happy flower! • Crabbe. W. CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF DR TUCKER. BOTH the character and writings of Dr Tucker lay strong and decided claims to our esteem and admiration. His talents, his principles, his conduct, his original and acute investigations, all tend to elevate and enlarge our conceptions of the grandeur and dignity of human nature. Animated by feelings and principles of a pure and lofty kind, his soul revolted at the pitiable degeneracy of his fellow-mortals. Resisting the attractions of the highest circles of society, in which his brilliancy of fancy, wit, learning, and superior intelligence, always made him a welcome and distinguished guest, this wonderful individual retired to banquet in the delicious enjoyment of his own thoughts, in a humble situation in an obscure village, and this when he was in the full bloom and maturity of life. His was not the retirement of the decayed rake, who, having outrun every sensual gratification before the meridian of life, and finding himself incapable of tasting the sweets of intellectual enjoyment, retires to drag out the remainder of his days in a morose, misanthropical, and miserable seclusion. That knowledge which others acquire by many years of experience and painful study, he seemed to be intuitively possessed of; so that he appears to have been formed by Nature to elevate the human character, by his dignified, patriotic, and virtuous conduct, and to illustrate her powers and laws by his talents and investigations. Experiencing himself the advantages of thoughtfulness, self-command, and contentment, he constantly inculcated the necessity of these upon others; and he has been heard to declare, that, although the gates of heaven were opened to him, he would not enter them until he had coolly considered the consequences which would result from his doing so, both to himself and others. I have been told by my deceased father, who had the honour of being acquainted with Dr T. in early life, that he was then such an enthusiastic lover of fame, as to say, that if Divine Providence would give him the choice of a life of pleasure, with the certainty of his being forgotten after death, or a life of complete misery, to be recompensed by a lasting posthumous fame,-he would gladly embrace the latter part of the alternative. But his subsequent conduct evinced a total revolution in opinion upon this subject. His amiable manners and agreeable disposition, it is true, gained him the esteem and approbation of all who knew him; but he rather shunned than courted popularity; and had not his writings been such as to perpetuate his name to the latest posterity-except in the hearts of a very few friends-the small portion of dust which covered the mortal remains of Dr Tucker would have consigned his name to everlasting oblivion. The following is a fragment of his composition, which was placed as a mark in a book of my father's which the Doctor had been perusing. As the production of that great man, it must, I should presume, be interesting to your readers: Science is the surest path to wealth and eminence, the best and noblest source of worldly enjoyment. The cultivation of Science presents a constant, rich, and boundless field of exercise, pleasure, and improvement, to the whole energies of human intellect. All other exercises and enjoyments are apt to cloy upon the mind, and constitute no lasting or substantial gratification; but the more we court and gain the good graces of Science, we are the more strongly induced to cultivate and admire her. All other pleasures and possessions fluctuate in the fleeting train of Fortune. Knowledge, secure in conscious strength, erects alone her giant form, and boldly defies the assaults of every earthly power. It is a solid and imperishable treasure, which enlarges the mind, improves the heart, produces liberality and magnanimity of sentiment, elevates its possessor above the world,-gives him, in some degree, a foretaste of the enjoyments which may be supposed to charm the soul in a future state, and assimilates him with beings of purer hearts and brighter intelligences than human. The man who is unacquainted with Science can form no just or adequate conception of the Deity. To him the works of the Almighty are uninteresting and unconvincing, because unintelligible. Like the beasts around him, he sees and receives the benefit of the different productions of Nature, without ever inquiring how, or for what purpose they are produced. And it is therefore a matter of no surprise to me, that an ignorant and foolish man should call in question the existence of a Supreme Being. But that men of judgment, reflection, and learning, can seriously doubt that this vast and magnificent world is the production of an omniscient, omnipotent, and eternal Being, is, to me, an inexplicable wonder. Who can contemplate the beauty and harmony of the heavenly bodies,-explore the various chemical combinations of natural substances,-observe the admirable mechanism and ingenuity with which the different parts of the animal body are adapted to perform their numerous wonderful functions, or the constitution and powers of the mind, without being thoroughly convinced that they are the invention and production of matchless intelligence and design! "The beauty, perfection, and magnificence of this world, however, are only a proof of the power and wisdom of God; and if they manifested nothing more, we might view Him in the light of a cold-hearted and reckless spirit, who amused himself by forming a world to delight his own eyes, and a race of beings whose happiness he disregarded. But His handiworks are likewise pregnant with convincing demonstrations of His infinite benevolence." J. D. HORACE, BOOK I. ODE 37. Now let the flowing cups be crown'd; And let us on the gods bestow While Egypt's queen, by passion driven, Our capital and state had to destruction given. Madness unutterable! and did she dream That beardless catamites-the scum And refuse of mankind, and shame, To Rome's eternal gates durst come? Dreamer, awake!-turn, turn and fly! Cæsar defends our Italy: Ruin pursues thee, haste away, Thy fears are real now, thou victim of dismay. |