CHAPTER IV._Literary Blunders: A Chapter in the "History of Human Error"

BIBLIOGRAPEIICAL BLUNDERS.

THERE is no class that requires

to be dealt with more leniently

than do bibliographers, for pitfalls

are before and behind them. It is

impossible for any one man to see all the

books he describes in a general bibliography;

and, in consequence of the necessity

of trusting to second-hand information,

he is often led imperceptibly into gross

error. Watt's _Bibliotheca Britannica_ is a

most useful and valuable work, but, as

may be expected from so comprehensive

a compilation, many mistakes have crept

into it: for instance, under the head of

Philip Beroaldus, we find the following

title of a work: ``A short view of the

Persian Monarchy, published at the end

of Daniel's Works.'' The mystery of the

last part of the title is cleared up when we

find that it should properly be read, ``_and

of Daniel's Weekes_,'' it being a work on

prophecy. The librarian of the old

Marylebone Institution, knowing as little of

Latin as the monk did of Hebrew when

he described a book as having the beginning

where the end should be, catalogued

an edition of <AE>sop's Fables as ``<AE>sopiarum's

Ph<oe>dri Fabulorum.''

Two blunders that a bibliographer is

very apt to fall into are the rolling of

different authors of the same name into

one, and the creation of an author who

never existed. The first kind we may

illustrate by mentioning the dismay of the

worthy Bishop Jebb, when he found himself

identified in Watt's _Bibliotheca_ with

his uncle, the Unitarian writer. Of the

second kind we might point out the

names of men whose lives have been

written and yet who never existed. In

the _Zoological Biography_ of Agassiz,

published by the Ray Society, there is an

imaginary author, by name J. K. Broch,

whose work, _Entomologische Briefe_, was

published in 1823. This pamphlet is

really anonymous, and was written by

one who signed himself J. K. Broch, is

merely an explanation in the catalogue

from which the entry was taken that it

was a _brochure_. Moreri created an author,

whom he styled Dorus Basilicus, out of

the title of James I.'s <gr D<w^>ron basilik<o'>n>,

and Bishop Walton supposed the title of

the great Arabic Dictionary, the _Kamoos_

or Ocean, to be the name of an author

whom he quotes as ``Camus.'' In the

article on Stenography in Rees's Cyclop<ae>dia

there are two most amusing blunders.

John Nicolai published a _Treatise on the

Signs of the Ancients_ at the beginning of

the last century, and the writer of the

article, having seen it stated that a certain

fact was to be found in Nicolai, jumped

to the conclusion that it was the name of

a place, and wrote, ``It was at Nicolai

that this method of writing was first

introduced to the Greeks by Xenophon

himself.'' Tn another part of the same

article the oldest method of shorthand

extant, entitled ``Ars Scribendi Characteris,''

is said to have been printed about

the year 1412--that is, long before printing

was invented. In the _Biographie Universelle_

there is a life of one Nicholas Donis,

by Baron Walckenaer, which is a blundering

alteration of the real name of a

Benedictine monk called Dominus Nicholas.

This, however, is not the only time that

a title has been taken for a name. An

eminent bookseller is said to have

received a letter signed George Winton,

proposing a life of Pitt; but, as he did not

know the name, he paid no attention to

the letter, and was much astonished when

he was afterwards told that his

correspondent was no less a person than

George Pretyman Tomline, Bishop of

Winchester. This is akin to the mistake

of the Scotch doctor attending on the

Princess Charlotte during her illness, who

said that ``ane Jean Saroom'' had been

continually calling, but, not knowing the

fellow, he had taken no notice of him.

Thus the Bishop of Salisbury was sent

away by one totally ignorant of his

dignity. A similar blunder was made by a

bibliographer, for in Hotten's _Handbook

to the Topography and Family History of

England and Wales_ will be found an entry

of an ``Assize Sermon by Bishop Wigorn,

in the Cathedral at Worcester, 1690.''

This was really Bishop Stillingfleet. There

is a reverse case of a catalogue made by

a worthy bookseller of the name of William

London, which was long supposed to be

the work of Dr. William Juxon, the Bishop

of London at the time of publication.

The entry in the _Biographie Moderne_ of

``Brigham _le jeune_ ou Brigham Young''

furnishes a fine instance of a writer

succumbing to the ever-present temptation

to be too clever by half. A somewhat

similar blunder is that of the late Mr.

Dircks. The first reprint of the Marquis

of Worcester's _Century of Inventions_ was

issued by Thomas Payne, the highly

respected bookseller of the Mews Gate, in

1746; but in _Worcesteriana_ (1866) Mr.

Dircks positively asserts that the notorious

Tom Paine was the publisher of it, thus

ignoring the different spelling of the two

names.

In a French book on the invention of

printing, the sentence ``Le berceau de

l'imprimerie'' was misread by a German,

who turned Le Berceau into a man{.??}

D'Israeli tells us that _Mantissa_, the title

of the Appendix to Johnstone's _History

of Plants_, was taken for the name of an

author by D'Aquin, the French king's

physician. The author of the _Curiosities

of Literature_ also relates that an Italian

misread the description _Enrichi de deux

listes_ on the title-page of a French book

of travels, and, taking it for the author's

name, alluded to the opinions of

Mons. Enrichi De Deux Listes; but

really this seems almost too good to be

true.

If we searched bibliographical literature

we should find a fair crop of authors who

never existed; for when once a blunder

of this kind is set going, it seems to bear

a charmed life. Mr. Daydon Jackson

mentions some amusing instances of

imaginary authors made out of title-pages

in his _Guide to the Literature of Botany_.

An anonymous work of A. Massalongo,

entitled _Graduale Passagio delle Crittogame

alle Fanerogame_ (1876), has been entered

in a German bibliography as written by

G. Passagio. In an English list Kelaart's

_Flora Calpensis: Reminiscences of Gibraltar_

(1846) appears as the work of a lady--

Christian name, Flora; _surname_, Calpensis.

In 1837 a _Botanical-Lexicon_ was published

by an author who described himself as

``The Rev. Patrick Keith, Clerk, F.L.S.''

This somewhat pedantic form deceived a

foreign cataloguer, who took Clerk for the

surname, and contracted ``Patrick Keith''

into the initials P.K. More inexcusable

was the blunder of an American who, in

describing J. E. H. Gordon's work on

_Electricity_, changed the author's degree

into the initials of a collaborator, one

Cantab. The joint authors were stated

to be J. E. H. Gordon and B. A. Cantab.

A very amusing, but a quite excusable

error, was made by Allibone in his

_Dictionary of English Literature_, under

the heading of Isaac D'Israeli. He

notices new editions of that author's

works revised by the Right Hon. the

Chancellor of the Exchequer, of course

Isaac's son Benjamin, afterwards Prime

Minister and Earl of Beaconsfield; but

unfortunately there were two Chancellors

in 1858, and Allibone chooses the wrong

one, printing, as useful information to the

reader, that the reviser was Sir George

Cornewall Lewis. An instance of the

danger of inconsiderate explanation will

be found in a little book by a German

lady, Fanny Lewald, entitled _England

and Schottland_. The authoress, when in

London, visited the theatre in order to

see a play founded on Cooper's novel

_The Wept of Wish-ton Wish_; and being

unable to understand the title, she calls

it the ``Will of the Whiston Wisp,'' which

she tells us means an _ignis fatuus_.

A writer in a German paper was led

into an amusing blunder by an English

review a few years ago. The reviewer,

having occasion to draw a distinction

between George and Robert Cruikshank,

spoke of the former as the real Simon

Pure. The German, not understanding

the allusion, gravely told his readers that

George Cruikshank was a pseudonym,

the author's real name being Simon Pure.

This seems almost too good to be equalled,

but a countryman of our own has blundered

nearly as grossly. William Taylor,

in his _Historic Survey of German Poetry_

(1830), prints the following absurd

statement: ``Godfred of Berlichingen is one

of the earliest imitations of the Shakspeare

tragedy which the German school has

produced. It was admirably translated into

English in 1799 at Edinburg by _William_

Scott, advocate, no doubt the same person

who, under the poetical but assumed name

of _Walter_, has since become the most

extensively popular of the British writers.''

The cause of this mistake we cannot explain,

but the reason for it is to be found

in the fact which has lately been announced

that a few copies of the translation, with

the misprint of William for Walter in the

title, were issued before the error was

discovered.

Jacob Boehm, the theosophist, wrote

some Reflections on a theological treatise

by one Isaiah Stiefel,[6] the title of which

puzzled one of his modern French

biographers. The word Stiefel in German

means a boot, and the Frenchman therefore

gave the title of Boehm's tract as

``Reflexions sur les Bottes d'Isaie.''

[6] ``Bedencken <u:>ber Esai<ae> Stiefels Buchlein:

von dreyerley Zustandt des Menschen unnd dessen

newen Geburt.'' 1639.

It is scarcely fair to make capital out

of the blunders of booksellers' catalogues,

which are often printed in a great hurry,

and cannot possibly possess the advantage

of correction which a book does. But

one or two examples may be given without

any censure being intended on the

booksellers.

In a French catalogue the works of

the famous philosopher Robert Boyle

appeared under the following singular

French form: BOY (le), Chymista scepticus

vel dubia et paradoxa chymico-physica, &c.

``Mr. Tul. Cicero's Epistles'' looks

strange, but the mistake is but small.

The very natural blunder respecting the

title of Shelley's _Prometheus Unbound_

actually did occur; and, what is more, it

was expected by Theodore Hook. This is

an accurate copy of the description in the

catalogue of a year or two back:--

``Shelley's Prometheus _Unbound_.

---- another copy, _in whole calf_.''

and these are Hook's lines:--

``Shelley styles his new poem `Prometheus Unbound,'

And 'tis like to remain so while time circles round;

For surely an age would be spent in the finding

A reader so weak as _to pay for the binding_.''

When books are classified in a catalogue

the compiler must be peculiarly on his

guard if he has the titles only and not

the books before him. Sometimes instances

of incorrect classification show

gross ignorance, as in the instance quoted

in the _Athen<ae>um_ lately. Here we have

a crop of blunders: ``_Title_, Commentarii

De Bello Gallico in usum Scholarum

Liber Tirbius. _Author_, Mr. C. J.

Caesoris. _Subject_, Religion.'' Still better

is the auctioneer's entry of P. V. Maroni's

_The Opera_. Authors, however, are usually

so fond of fanciful ear-catching titles, that

every excuse must be made for the cataloguer,

who mistakes their meaning, and

takes them in their literal signification.

Who can reprove too severely the classifier

who placed Swinburne's _Under the

Microscope_ in his class of _Optical

Instruments_, or treated Ruskin's _Notes on the

Construction of Sheetfolds_ as a work on

agricultural appliances? A late instance

of an amusing misclassification is reported

from Germany. In the _Orientalische

Bibliographie_, Mr. Rider Haggard's

wonderful story _King Solomon's Mines_ is

entered as a contribution to

``Alttestamentliche Litteratur.''

The elaborate work by Careme, _Le

Patissier Pittoresque_ (1842), which

contains designs for confectioners, deceived

the bookseller from its plates of pavilions,

temples, etc., into supposing it to be a

book on architecture, and he accordingly

placed it under that heading in his

catalogue.

Mr. Daydon Jackson gives several

instances of false classification in his _Guide

to the Literature of Botany_, and remarks

that some authors contrive titles seemingly

of set purpose to entrap the unwary. He

instances a fine example in the case of

Bishop Alexander Ewing's _Feamainn

Earraghaidhiell: Argyllshire Seaweeds_

(Glasgow, 1872. 8vo). To enhance the

delusion, the coloured wrapper is

ornamented with some of the common marine

alg<ae>, but the inside of the volume

consists solely of pastoral addresses. Another

example will be found in _Flowers from

the South, from the Hortus Siccus of an

Old Collector_. By W. H. Hyett, F.R.S.

Instead of a popular work on the

Mediterranean flora by a scientific man, as

might reasonably be expected, this is a

volume of translations from the Italian

and Latin poets. It is scarcely fair to

blame the compiler of the _Bibliotheca

Historio-Naturalis_ for having ranked

both these works among scientific treatises.

The English cataloguer who treated as a

botanical book Dr. Garnett's selection

from Coventry Patmore's poems, entitled

_Florilegium Amantis_, could claim less

excuse for his blunder than the German

had. These misleading titles are no new

invention, and the great bibliographer

Haller was deceived into including the

title of James Howell's _Dendrologia, or

Dodona's Grove_ (1640), in his _Bibliotheca

Botanica_. Professor Otis H. Robinson

contributed a very interesting paper on the

``Titles of Books'' to the _Special Report

on Public Libraries in the United States of

America_ (1876), in which he deals very

fully with this difficulty of misleading titles,

and some of his preliminary remarks are

very much to the point. He writes:--

``No act of a man's life requires

more practical common sense than the

naming of his book. If he would make

a grocer's sign or an invoice of a cellar

of goods or a city directory, he uses no

metaphors; his pen does not hesitate for

the plainest word. He must make himself

understood by common men. But

if he makes a book the case is different.

It must have the charm of a pleasing

title. If there is nothing new within, the

back at least must be novel and taking.

He tortures his imagination for something

which will predispose the reader in its

favour. Mr. Parker writes a series of

biographical sketches, and calls it _Morning

Stars of the New World_. Somebody prepares

seven religious essays, binds them

up in a book, and calls it _Seven Stormy

Sundays_. Mr. H. T. Tuckerman makes

a book of essays on various subjects, and

calls it _The Optimist_; and then devotes

several pages of preface to an argument,

lexicon in hand, proving that the

applicability of the term optimist is `obvious.'

An editor, at intervals of leisure, indulges

his true poetic taste for the pleasure of his

friends, or the entertainment of an

occasional audience. Then his book appears,

entitled not _Miscellaneous Poems_, but

_Asleep in the Sanctum_, by A. A. Hopkins.

Sometimes, not satisfied with one enigma,

another is added. Here we have _The

Great Iron Wheel; or, Republicanism

Backwards and Christianity Reversed_, by J. R.

Graves. These titles are neither new nor

scarce, nor limited to any particular class

of books. Every case, almost every shelf,

in every library contain such. They are as

old as the art of book-making. David's

lamentation over Saul and Jonathan was

called _The Bow_. A single word in the

poem probably suggested the name. Three

of the orations of <AE>schines were styled _The

Graces_, and his letters _The Muses_.''

The list of bibliographical blunders

might be indefinitely extended, but the

subject is somewhat technical, and the

above few instances will give a sufficient

indication of the pitfalls which lie in the

way of the bibliographer--a worker who

needs universal knowledge if he is to

wend his way safely through the snares

in his path.