第一章A SCOTTISH ROMANTICIST OF 1830The finding of a rare book that you have wanted long is one of the happier moments in life. Whatever we may think of life when we contemplate it as a whole， it is a delight to discover what one has sought for years， especially if the book be a book which you really want to read， and not a thing whose value is given by the fashion of collecting. Perhaps nobody ever collected before THEDEATH-WAKE， OR LUNACY
A NECROMAUNT
In Three Chimeras BY THOMAS T. STODDART.
"Is't like that lead contains her？ -
It were too gross To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave." -Shakespeare.
EDINBURGH：
Printed for HENRY CONSTABLE， Edinburgh， And HURST， CHANCE， & CO.， London.
MDCCCXXXI.
This is my rare book， and it is rare for an excellent good reason， as will be shown. But first of the author. Mr. Thomas Tod Stoddart was born in 1810. He died in 1880. Through all his pilgrimage of three-score years and ten， his "rod and staff did comfort him，" as the Scottish version of the Psalms has it； nay， his staff was his rod. He "was an angler，" as he remarked when a friend asked： "Well， Tom， what are you doing now." He was the patriarch， the Father Izaak， of Scottish fishers， and he sleeps， according to his desire， like Scott， within hearing of the Tweed.
His memoir， published by his daughter， in "Stoddart's Angling Songs" (Blackwood)， is an admirable biography， quo fit ut omnis Votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella Vita senis.
But it is with the "young Tom Stoddart，" the poet of twenty， not with the old angling sage， that we have to do. Miss Stoddart has discreetly republished only the Angling Songs of her father， the pick of them being classical in their way. Now， as Mr. Arnold writes：-"Two desires toss about The poet's feverish blood， One drives him to the world without， And one to solitude."The young Stoddart's two desires were poetry and fishing. He began with poetry. "At the age of ten his whole desire was to produce an immortal tragedy . . . Blood and battle were the powers with which he worked， and with no meaner tool. Every other dramatic form he despised." It is curious to think of the schoolboy， the born Romanticist， labouring at these things， while Gerard de Nerval， and Victor Hugo， and Theophile Gautier， and Petrus Borel were boys also--boys of the same ambitions， and with much the same romantic tastes. Stoddart had， luckily， another love besides the Muse.
"With the spring and the May fly， the dagger dipped in gore paled before the supple rod， and the dainty midge." Finally， the rod and midge prevailed.
"Wee dour-looking hooks are the thing， Mouse body and laverock wing."But before he quite abandoned all poetry save fishing ditties， he wrote and published the volume whose title-page we have printed， "The Death Wake." The lad who drove home from an angling expedition in a hearse had an odd way of combining his amusements.
He lived among poets and critics who were anglers--Hogg， the Ettrick Shepherd (who cast but a heavy line， they say， in Yarrow)， Aytoun， Christopher North， De Quincey -"No fisher But a well-wisher To the game，"as Scott has it--these were his companions， older or younger. None of these， certainly not Wilson， nor Hogg， nor Aytoun， were friends of the Romantic school， as illustrated by Keats and Shelley. None of them probably knew much of Gautier， De Nerval， Borel， le lycanthrope， and the other boys in that boyish movement of 1830.
It was only Stoddart， unconsciously in sympathy with Paris， and censured by his literary friends， who produced the one British Romantic work of 1830. The title itself shows that he was partly laughing at his own performance； he has the mockery of Les Jeunes France in him， as well as the wormy and obituary joys of La Comedie de la Mort. The little book came out， inspired by "all the poetasters." Christopher North wrote， four years later， in Blackwood's Magazine， a tardy review. He styled it "an ingeniously absurd poem， with an ingeniously absurd title， written in a strange， namby-pamby sort of style， between the weakest of Shelley and the strongest of Barry Cornwall." The book "fell dead from the Press，" far more dead than "Omar Khayyam." Nay， misfortune pursued it， Miss Stoddart kindly informs me， and it was doomed to the flames. The "remainder，" the bulk of the edition， was returned to the poet in sheets， and by him was deposited in a garret. The family had a cook， one Betty， a descendant， perhaps， of "that unhappy Betty or Elizabeth Barnes， cook of Mr. Warburton， Somerset Herald，" who burned， among other quartos， Shakespeare's "Henry I.，""Henry II.，" and "King Stephen." True to her inherited instincts， Mr. Stoddart's Betty， slowly， relentlessly， through forty years， used "The Death Wake" for the needs and processes of her art. The whole of the edition， except probably a few "presentation copies，"perished in the kitchen. As for that fell cook， let us hope that "The Biblioclastic Dead Have diverse pains to brook， They break Affliction's bread With Betty Barnes， the Cook，"as the author of "The Bird Bride" sings.
Miss Stoddart had just informed me of this disaster， which left one almost hopeless of ever owning a copy of "The Death Wake，" when Ifound a brown paper parcel among many that contained to-day's minor poetry "with the author's compliments，" and lo， in this unpromising parcel was the long-sought volume！ Ever since one was a small boy， reading Stoddart's "Scottish Angler，" and old Blackwood's， one had pined for a sight of "The Necromaunt，" and here， clean in its "pure purple mantle" of smooth cloth， lay the desired one！
"Like Dian's kiss， unasked， unsought， It gave itself， and was not bought，"being， indeed， the discovery and gift of a friend who fishes and studies the Lacustrine Muses.
The copy has a peculiar interest； it once belonged to Aytoun， the writer of "The Scottish Cavaliers，" of "The Bon Gaultier Ballads，"and of "Firmilian，" the scourge of the Spasmodic School. Mr.
