Very many years ago we became convinced-- Judge Methuen and Idid-- that there was nothing new in the world. I think it was while we were in London and while we were deep in the many fads of bibliomania that we arrived at this important conclusion.
We had been pursuing with enthusiasm the exciting delights of extra-illustration, a practice sometimes known as Grangeri**; the friends of the practice call it by the former name, the enemies by the latter. We were engaged at extra-illustrating Boswell's life of Johnson, and had already got together somewhat more than eleven thousand prints when we ran against a snag, an obstacle we never could surmount. We agreed that our work would be incomplete, and therefore vain, unless we secured a picture of the book with which the great lexicographer knocked down Osborne, the bookseller at Gray's Inn Gate.
Unhappily we were wholly in the dark as to what the title of that book was, and, although we ransacked the British Museum and even appealed to the learned Frognall Dibdin, we could not get a clew to the identity of the volume. To be wholly frank with you, Iwill say that both the Judge and I had wearied of the occupation;moreover, it involved great expense, since we were content with nothing but India proofs (those before letters preferred). So we were glad of this excuse for abandoning the practice.
While we were contemplating a graceful retreat the Judge happened to discover in the ``Natural History'' of Pliny a passage which proved to our satisfaction that, so far from being a new or a modern thing, the extra-illustration of books was of exceptional antiquity. It seems that Atticus, the friend of Cicero, wrote a book on the subject of portraits and portrait-painting, in the course of which treatise he mentions that Marcus Varro ``conceived the very liberal idea of inserting, by some means or another, in his numerous volumes, the portraits of several hundred individuals, as he could not bear the idea that all traces of their features should be lost or that the lapse of centuries should get the better of mankind.''
``Thus,'' says Pliny, ``was he the inventor of a benefit to his fellow-men that might have been envied by the gods themselves;for not only did he confer immortality upon the originals of these portraits, but he transmitted these portraits to all parts of the earth, so that everywhere it might be possible for them to be present, and for each to occupy his niche.''
Now, Pliny is not the only one who has contributed to the immortalization of Marcus Varro. I have had among, my papers for thirty years the verses which Judge Methuen dashed off (for poets invariably dash off their poetry), and they are such pleasant verses that I don't mind letting the world see them.
MARCUS VARRO
Marcus Varro went up and down The places where old books were sold;He ransacked all the shops in town For pictures new and pictures old.
He gave the folk of earth no peace;
Snooping around by day and night, He plied the trade in Rome and Greece Of an insatiate Grangerite.
``Pictures!'' was evermore his cry--``Pictures of old or recent date,''
And pictures only would he buy Wherewith to ``extra-illustrate.''
Full many a tome of ancient type And many a manuscript he took, For nary purpose but to swipe Their pictures for some other book.
While Marcus Varro plied his fad There was not in the shops of Greece A book or pamphlet to be had That was not minus frontispiece.
Nor did he hesitate to ply His baleful practices at home;It was not possible to buy A perfect book in all of Rome!
What must the other folk have done--Who, glancing o'er the books they bought, Came soon and suddenly upon The vandalism Varro wrought!
How must their cheeks have flamed with red--How did their hearts with choler beat!
We can imagine what they said--We can imagine, not repeat!
Where are the books that Varro made--The pride of dilettante Rome--With divers portraitures inlaid Swiped from so many another tome?
The worms devoured them long ago--O wretched worms! ye should have fed Not on the books ``extended'' so, But on old Varro's flesh instead!
Alas, that Marcus Varro lives And is a potent factor yet!
Alas, that still his practice gives Good men occasion for regret!
To yonder bookstall, pri'thee, go, And by the ``missing'' prints and plates And frontispieces you shall know He lives, and ``extra-illustrates''!
In justice to the Judge and to myself I should say that neither of us wholly approves the sentiment which the poem I have quoted implies. We regard Grangeri** as one of the unfortunate stages in bibliomania; it is a period which seldom covers more than five years, although Dr. O'Rell has met with one case in his practice that has lasted ten years and still gives no symptom of abating in virulence.
