Two
rare books for April Fool’s Day. An edition of the Reverend Thomas Creech’s (1659-1706)
translation of Lucretius that together with Dryden’s Virgil and Pope’s Homer were
the three most read classical renderings throughout the 18th century
(Glasgow, 1749). Notes: The book in hand, as the phrase goes, is a cataloguing
minefield. Lacking a title page, one is left completely reliant on the
bookseller’s sale tab, pasted helpfully in the top left-hand corner of the inside
cover, itself detached from its job. But is the tab true? “By Creech” is
scratched crudely in ink, just by way of backup, with the book being renumbered
in different Whitefriars, i.e. Carmelite, libraries on its journey through
life. One relates to Lucretius (pictured) trying to turn his back on the whole
mess, but, like Lucretius, one has to face up to the facts as given. You see, a
cataloguer cannot describe a work with anything other than entire certainty. It
is not permissible to say it is the 1749 version outright, the date on the tab,
or even that it is De Rerum Natura, without evidence inside and outside the
text. Covering notes are created to explain for the user keen on Creech just
which Creech to expect. One thing is certain, it is the same edition as all the
others going way back, containing extensive verse recommendations from contemporaries
like Nahum Tate, Thomas Otway, Edmund Waller and the increasingly high profile
Aphra Behn, herself. Time to google ‘W. Tho. Wilkinson TCD, 1910’, the name signed
in different places throughout this copy of Lucretius, but no leads, in fact
too many Thomas Wilkinsons that could not alas be our Thomas Wilkinson. Another
nightmare is this battered copy of a set of comic stories by the Irish novelist
Gerald Griffin (1803-1840) under the title ‘The Christian Physiologist and Other
Tales’ (Dublin, circa 1892). Notes: Confusingly, the cover calls the book ‘The
Five Senses’, a perplexity resolved outside the text by obscure sources corroborating
that the two titles are interchangeable. Cataloguers are required to give
priority description to the title page, if it exists, so ‘The Five Senses’ co-title
goes in an added entry, with plenty of explanation in the notes field. Griffin would have had fun at the expense of a
Carmelite cataloguer of the 21st century who cannot locate firm
information about this impression using all the mighty powers of his online
inheritance. Reprints of the James Duffy version start at least in 1857. The
only certainty is that the book must have been published in or before 1892,
which we know from the St. Joseph’s Roman Catholic School Port Melbourne prize
plate pasted inside the cover, awarded Christmas 1892 to Miss E. Barlow for “Excellence
in rapid progress”.
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