Books and Bookmen [17]
be the ghost of some mortal
drowned in the well, I cannot say with absolute certainty; but the
opinion of the learned tends to the former conclusion. Naturally a
Japanese child, when sent in the dusk to draw water, will do so with
fear and trembling, for this limp, floppy apparition might scare the
boldest. Another bogie, a terrible creation of fancy, I take to be
a vampire, about which the curious can read in Dom Calmet, who will
tell them how whole villages in Hungary have been depopulated by
vampires; or he may study in Fauriel's 'Chansons de la Grece
Moderne' the vampires of modern Hellas.
Another plan, and perhaps even more satisfactory to a timid or
superstitious mind, is to read in a lonely house at midnight a story
named 'Carmilla,' printed in Mr. Sheridan Le Fanu's 'In a Glass
Darkly.' That work will give you the peculiar sentiment of
vampirism, will produce a gelid perspiration, and reduce the patient
to a condition in which he will be afraid to look round the room.
If, while in this mood, some one tells him Mr. Augustus Hare's story
of Crooglin Grange, his education in the practice and theory of
vampires will be complete, and he will be a very proper and well-
qualified inmate of Earlswood Asylum. The most awful Japanese
vampire, caught red-handed in the act, a hideous, bestial
incarnation of ghoulishness, we have carefully refrained from
reproducing.
Scarcely more agreeable is the bogie, or witch, blowing from her
mouth a malevolent exhalation, an embodiment of malignant and
maleficent sorcery. The vapour which flies and curls from the mouth
constitutes "a sending," in the technical language of Icelandic
wizards, and is capable (in Iceland, at all events) of assuming the
form of some detestable supernatural animal, to destroy the life of
a hated rival. In the case of our last example it is very hard
indeed to make head or tail of the spectre represented. Chinks and
crannies are his domain; through these he drops upon you. He is a
merry but not an attractive or genial ghost. Where there are such
"visions about" it may be admitted that children, apt to believe in
all such fancies, have a youth of variegated and intense misery,
recurring with special vigour at bed-time. But we look again at our
first picture, and hope and trust that Japanese boys and girls are
as happy as these jolly little creatures appear.
GHOSTS IN THE LIBRARY
Suppose, when now the house is dumb,
When lights are out, and ashes fall -
Suppose their ancient owners come
To claim our spoils of shop and stall,
Ah me! within the narrow hall
How strange a mob would meet and go,
What famous folk would haunt them all,
Octavo, quarto, folio!
The great Napoleon lays his hand
Upon this eagle-headed N,
That marks for his a pamphlet banned
By all but scandal-loving men, -
A libel from some nameless den
Of Frankfort,--Arnaud a la Sphere,
Wherein one spilt, with venal pen,
Lies o'er the loves of Moliere. {3}
Another shade--he does not see
"Boney," the foeman of his race -
The great Sir Walter, this is he
With that grave homely Border face.
He claims his poem of the chase
That rang Benvoirlich's valley through;
And THIS, that doth the lineage trace
And fortunes of the bold Buccleuch; {4}
For these were his, and these he gave
To one who dwelt beside the Peel,
That murmurs with its tiny wave
To join the Tweed at Ashestiel.
Now thick as motes the shadows wheel,
And find their own, and claim a share
Of books wherein Ribou did deal,
Or Roulland sold to wise Colbert. {5}
What famous folk of old are here!
A royal duke comes down to us,
And greatly wants his Elzevir,
His Pagan tutor, Lucius. {6}
And Beckford claims an amorous
Old heathen in morocco blue; {7}
And who demands Eobanus
But stately Jacques Auguste de Thou! {8}
They come, the wise, the great, the true,
They jostle on the narrow stair,
The frolic Countess de Verrue,
Lamoignon, ay, and Longepierre,
The new and elder dead are there -
The lords of speech, and song, and pen,
Gambetta, {9} Schlegel
drowned in the well, I cannot say with absolute certainty; but the
opinion of the learned tends to the former conclusion. Naturally a
Japanese child, when sent in the dusk to draw water, will do so with
fear and trembling, for this limp, floppy apparition might scare the
boldest. Another bogie, a terrible creation of fancy, I take to be
a vampire, about which the curious can read in Dom Calmet, who will
tell them how whole villages in Hungary have been depopulated by
vampires; or he may study in Fauriel's 'Chansons de la Grece
Moderne' the vampires of modern Hellas.
Another plan, and perhaps even more satisfactory to a timid or
superstitious mind, is to read in a lonely house at midnight a story
named 'Carmilla,' printed in Mr. Sheridan Le Fanu's 'In a Glass
Darkly.' That work will give you the peculiar sentiment of
vampirism, will produce a gelid perspiration, and reduce the patient
to a condition in which he will be afraid to look round the room.
If, while in this mood, some one tells him Mr. Augustus Hare's story
of Crooglin Grange, his education in the practice and theory of
vampires will be complete, and he will be a very proper and well-
qualified inmate of Earlswood Asylum. The most awful Japanese
vampire, caught red-handed in the act, a hideous, bestial
incarnation of ghoulishness, we have carefully refrained from
reproducing.
Scarcely more agreeable is the bogie, or witch, blowing from her
mouth a malevolent exhalation, an embodiment of malignant and
maleficent sorcery. The vapour which flies and curls from the mouth
constitutes "a sending," in the technical language of Icelandic
wizards, and is capable (in Iceland, at all events) of assuming the
form of some detestable supernatural animal, to destroy the life of
a hated rival. In the case of our last example it is very hard
indeed to make head or tail of the spectre represented. Chinks and
crannies are his domain; through these he drops upon you. He is a
merry but not an attractive or genial ghost. Where there are such
"visions about" it may be admitted that children, apt to believe in
all such fancies, have a youth of variegated and intense misery,
recurring with special vigour at bed-time. But we look again at our
first picture, and hope and trust that Japanese boys and girls are
as happy as these jolly little creatures appear.
GHOSTS IN THE LIBRARY
Suppose, when now the house is dumb,
When lights are out, and ashes fall -
Suppose their ancient owners come
To claim our spoils of shop and stall,
Ah me! within the narrow hall
How strange a mob would meet and go,
What famous folk would haunt them all,
Octavo, quarto, folio!
The great Napoleon lays his hand
Upon this eagle-headed N,
That marks for his a pamphlet banned
By all but scandal-loving men, -
A libel from some nameless den
Of Frankfort,--Arnaud a la Sphere,
Wherein one spilt, with venal pen,
Lies o'er the loves of Moliere. {3}
Another shade--he does not see
"Boney," the foeman of his race -
The great Sir Walter, this is he
With that grave homely Border face.
He claims his poem of the chase
That rang Benvoirlich's valley through;
And THIS, that doth the lineage trace
And fortunes of the bold Buccleuch; {4}
For these were his, and these he gave
To one who dwelt beside the Peel,
That murmurs with its tiny wave
To join the Tweed at Ashestiel.
Now thick as motes the shadows wheel,
And find their own, and claim a share
Of books wherein Ribou did deal,
Or Roulland sold to wise Colbert. {5}
What famous folk of old are here!
A royal duke comes down to us,
And greatly wants his Elzevir,
His Pagan tutor, Lucius. {6}
And Beckford claims an amorous
Old heathen in morocco blue; {7}
And who demands Eobanus
But stately Jacques Auguste de Thou! {8}
They come, the wise, the great, the true,
They jostle on the narrow stair,
The frolic Countess de Verrue,
Lamoignon, ay, and Longepierre,
The new and elder dead are there -
The lords of speech, and song, and pen,
Gambetta, {9} Schlegel