the love affairs of a bibliomaniac(藏书癖者的爱情)-第7章
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of the Duke of Portland； where we visited her in her sleeping…room at
Bulstrode； surrounded with books and dirtiness； the usual appendages of
folk of learning！''
There is another word which Cicero uses for I have still somewhat
more to say of that passage from the oration ‘‘pro Archia poeta''the word
‘‘rusticantur；'' which indicates that civilization twenty centuries ago made
a practice of taking books out into the country for summer reading。
‘‘These literary pursuits rusticate with us；'' says Cicero； and thus he
presents to us a pen… picture of the Roman patrician stretched upon the
cool grass under the trees； perusing the latest popular romance； while；
forsooth； in yonder hammock his dignified spouse swings slowly to and
fro； conning the pages and the colored plates of the current fashion journal。
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Surely in the telltale word ‘‘rusticantur'' you and I and the rest of human
nature find a worthy precedent and much encouragement for our practice
of loading up with plenty of good reading before we start for the scene of
our annual summering。
As for myself； I never go away from home that I do not take a trunkful
of books with me； for experience has taught me that there is no
companionship better than that of these friends； who； however much all
things else may vary； always give the same response to my demand upon
their solace and their cheer。 My sister； Miss Susan； has often inveighed
against this practice of mine； and it was only yesterday that she informed
me that I was the most exasperating man in the world。
However； as Miss Susan's experience with men during the sixty…seven
hot summers and sixty…eight hard winters of her life has been somewhat
limited； I think I should bear her criticism without a murmur。 Miss Susan
is really one of the kindest creatures in all the world。 It is her misfortune
that she has had all her life an insane passion for collecting crockery； old
pewter； old brass； old glass； old furniture and other trumpery of that
character； a passion with which I have little sympathy。 I do not know
that Miss Susan is prouder of her collection of all this folderol than she is
of the fact that she is a spinster。
This latter peculiarity asserts itself upon every occasion possible。 I
recall an unpleasant scene in the omnibus last winter； when the obsequious
conductor； taking advantage of my sister's white hair and furrowed cheeks；
addressed that estimable lady as ‘‘Madam。'' I'd have you know that my
sister gave the fellow to understand very shortly and in very vigorous
English （emphasized with her blue silk umbrella） that she was Miss Susan；
and that she did not intend to be Madamed by anybody； under any
condition。
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
IV
THE MANIA OF COLLECTING SEIZES ME
Captivity Waite never approved of my fondness for fairy literature。
She shared the enthusiasm which I expressed whenever ‘‘Robinson
Crusoe'' was mentioned； there was just enough seriousness in De Foe's
romance； just enough piety to appeal for sympathy to one of Captivity
Waite's religious turn of mind。 When it came to fiction involving witches；
ogres； and flubdubs； that was too much for Captivity； and the spirit of the
little Puritan revolted。
Yet I have the documentary evidence to prove that Captivity's
ancestors （both paternal and maternal） were； in the palmy colonial times；
as abject slaves to superstition as could well be imagined。 The Waites of
Salem were famous persecutors of witches； and Sinai Higginbotham
（Captivity's great…great… grandfather on her mother's side of the family）
was Cotton Mather's boon companion； and rode around the gallows with
that zealous theologian on that memorable occasion when five young
women were hanged at Danvers upon the charge of having tormented little
children with their damnable arts of witchcraft。 Human thought is like a
monstrous pendulum： it keeps swinging from one extreme to the other。
Within the compass of five generations we find the Puritan first an
uncompromising believer in demonology and magic； and then a scoffer at
everything involving the play of fancy。
I felt harshly toward Captivity Waite for a time； but I harbor her no ill…
will now； on the contrary； I recall with very tender feelings the distant time
when our sympathies were the same and when we journeyed the pathway
of early youth in a companionship sanctified by the innocence and the
loyalty and the truth of childhood。 Indeed； I am not sure that that early
friendship did not make a lasting impression upon my life； I have thought
of Captivity Waite a great many times； and I have not unfrequently
wondered what might have been but for that book of fairy tales which my
Uncle Cephas sent me。
She was a very pretty child； and she lost none of her comeliness and
none of her sweetness of character as she approached maturity。 I was
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impressed with this upon my return from college。 She； too； had pursued
those studies deemed necessary to the acquirement of a good education；
she had taken a four years' course at South Holyoke and had finished at
Mrs。 Willard's seminary at Troy。 ‘‘You will now；'' said her father； and he
voiced the New England sentiment regarding young womanhood； ‘‘you
will now return to the quiet of your home and under the direction of your
mother study the performance of those weightier duties which qualify your
sex for a realization of the solemn responsibilities of human life。''
Three or four years ago a fine…looking young fellow walked in upon
me with a letter of introduction from his mother。 He was Captivity
Waite's son！ Captivity is a widow now； and she is still living in her
native State； within twenty miles of the spot where she was born。
Colonel Parker； her husband； left her a good property when he died； and
she is famous for her charities。 She has founded a village library； and she
has written me on several occasions for advice upon proposed purchases
of books。
I don't mind telling you that I had a good deal of malicious pleasure in
sending her not long ago a reminder of old times in these words： ‘‘My
valued friend；'' I wrote； ‘‘I see by the catalogue recently published that
your village library contains； among other volumes representing the
modern school of fiction； eleven copies of ‘Trilby' and six copies of ‘The
Heavenly Twins。' I also note an absence of certain works whose
influence upon my earlier life was such that I make bold to send copies of
the same to your care in the h
