Chapter VIII: Conclusion: Of the Account of the Royal Library. the Library of the Arsenal (4)

[151] [_Bozérian undoubtedly had his merits_.]--Lesné has been
singularly lively in describing the character of Bozérian's binding.
In the verse ...

Il dit, et secouant le joug de la manie....

he appears to have been emulous of rivalling the strains, of the Epic
Muse; recalling, as it were, a sort of Homeric scene to our
recollection: as thus--of Achilles rushing to fight, after having
addressed his horses:

[Greek: E ra, kai en prôtois iachôn eche mônuchas hippos]

[152] Some account of French bookbinders may be also found in the
_Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. ii. p. 496-8.

[153] Cependant Thouvenin est un de ces hommes extraordinaires qui,
semblables à ces _corps lumineux_ que l'on est convenu d'appeler
_cometes_, paraissent une fois en un siècle. Si, plus ambitieux de
gloire que de fortune, il continue à, se surveiller; si, moins ouvrier
qu'artiste, il s'occupe sans relache du perfectionnement de la
reliure, il fera époque dans son art comme ces grands hommes que nous
admirons font époque dans la littérature. p. 117.

[154] [In the year 1819, Lord Spencer sent over to the Marquis de
Chateaugiron, a copy of the _Ovid De Tristilus, translated by
Churchyard_, 1578, 4to. (his contribution to the Roxburghe Club) as a
present from ONE President of Bibliophiles to ANOTHER. It was bound by
Lewis, in his very best style, in morocco, with vellum linings, within
a broad border of gold, and all other similar seductive adjuncts.
Lewis considered it as a CHALLENGE to the whole bibliopegistic
fraternity at Paris:--a sort of book-gauntlet;--thrown down for the
most resolute champion to pick up--if he dare! Thouvenin, Simier,
Bozérian (as has been intimated to me) were convened on the
occasion:--they looked at the gauntlet: admired and feared it: but no
man durst pick it up!

Obstupuere animi:----

Ante omnes stupet ipse Dares[D]....

In other words, the Marquis de Chateaugiron avowed to me that it was
considered to be the _ne plus ultra_ of the art. What say you to
this, Messrs. Lesné and Crapelet?

[D] _Thouvenin_.

[155] This poem appeared early in the year 1820, under the following title.
"_La Reliure, poème didactique en six chants_; précédé d'une idée
analytique de cet art, suivi de notes historiques et critiques, et
d'un Mémoire soumis à la Société d'Encouragement, ainsi qu'au Jury
d'exposition de 1819, relatif à des moyens de perfectionnement,
propres à retarder le renouvellement des reliures. PAR LESNÉ. Paris,
1820. 8vo. pp. 246. The motto is thus:

Hâtez-vous lentement, et sans perdre courage,
Vingt fois sur le métier remettez votre ouvrage;
Polissez-le sans cesse et le repolissez.

_Boileau Art. Poét._ ch. 1.

This curious production is dedicated to the Author's Son: his first
workman; seventeen years of age; and "as knowing, in his business at
that early period of life as his father was at the age of
twenty-seven." The dedication is followed by a preface, and an
advertisement, or "Idée analytique de la Reliure." In the preface, the
author deprecates both precipitate and severe criticism; "He is himself
but a book-binder--and what can be expected from a muse so cultivated?"
He doubts whether it will be read all through; but his aim and object
have been to fix, upon a solid basis, the fundamental principles of
his art. The subject, as treated in the Dictionary of Arts and Trades
by the French Academy, is equally scanty and inaccurate. The author
wishes that all arts were described by artists, as the reader would
gain in information what he would lose in style. "I here repeat (says
he) what I have elsewhere said in bad verse. There are amateur
collectors who know more about book-binding, than even certain good
workmen; but there are also others, of a capricious taste, who are
rather likely to lead half-instructed workmen astray, than to put them
in the proper road." In the poetical epistle which concludes the
preface, he tells us that he had almost observed the Horatian precept:
his poem having cost eight years labour. The opening of it may
probably be quite sufficient to give the reader a proper notion of its
character and merits.

Je célèbre mon art; je dirai dans mes vers,
Combien il éprouva de changemens divers;
Je dirai ce que fut cet art en sa naissance;
Je dirai ses progrès, et, de sa décadence.
Je nommerai sans fard les ineptes auteurs:
Oui, je vais dérouler aux yeux des amateurs:
Des mauvais procédés la déplorable liste.
Je nommerai le bon et le mauvais artiste;

_LETTER IX._

MEN OF LETTERS. DOM BRIAL. THE ABBÉ BÉTENCOURT. MESSRS. GAIL, MILLIN, AND LANGÈS. A ROXBURGHE BANQUET.

_Paris, June 20, 1818_.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

We have had of late the hottest weather in the memory of the oldest Parisian: but we have also had a few flying thunder showers, which have helped to cool the air, and to refresh both the earth and its inhabitants. In consequence, I have made more frequent visits; and have followed up my morning occupations among BOOKS, by the evening society of those who are so capable, from their talents, of adding successfully to their number. Among the most eminent, as well as most venerable of historical antiquaries, is the celebrated Dom BRIAL, an ex-Benedictin. He lives in the _Rue Servandoni_, on the second-floor, in the very bosom, as it were, of his library, and of city solitude. My first visit to him, about three weeks ago, was fortified by an introductory letter from our friend * * *. The old gentleman (for he is about seventy four) was busily occupied at his dinner--about one o'clock; and wearing a silk night cap, and habited en rocquelaure, had his back turned as his servant announced me. He is very deaf; but on receiving the letter, and recognising the hand-writing of our friend, he made me heartily welcome, and begged that I would partake of his humble fare. This I declined; begging, on the other hand that he would pursue his present occupation, and allow me to examine his library. "With the greatest pleasure (replied he); but you will find it a very common-place one."

His books occupy each of the four rooms which form the suite of his dwelling. Of course I include the bed room. They are admirably selected: chiefly historical, and including a very considerable number in the ecclesiastical department. He has all the historians relating to our own country. In short, it is with tools like these, and from original MSS. lent him from the Royal Library--which his official situation authorizes--- that he carries on the herculean labour of the _Recueil des Historiens des Gaules, &c._ commenced by BOUQUET and other editors, and of which he shewed me a great portion of the XVIIth volume--as well as the commencement of the XVIIIth--already printed. Providence may be graciously pleased to prolong the life of this learned and excellent old man till the _latter_ volume be completed; but _beyond_ that period, it is hardly reasonable or desirable to wish it; for if he die, he will then have been gathered to his fathers in a good old age.[156] But the labours of Dom Brial are not confined to the "Recueil," just mentioned. They shine conspicuous in the "_Histoire Littéraire de la France_," of which fifteen goodly quarto volumes are already printed; and they may be also traced in the famous work entitled _L'Art de, Verifier les Dates_, in three large folio volumes, published in 1783, &c. "Quand il est mort, il n'a point son élevè"[157]--says his old and intimate friend the ABBÉ BÉTENCOURT; an observation, which, when I heard it, filled me with mingled regret and surprise--for why is this valuable, and most _patriotic_ of all departments of literature, neglected _abroad_ as well as _at home_? It is worth all the _digamma_ disquisitions in the world; and France, as well as Italy, was once rich in historical Literati.

Dom Brial is very little above the mean height. He stoops somewhat from age; but, considering his years, and incessantly sedentary labours, it is rather marvellous that he does not exhibit more striking proofs of infirmity. His voice is full and strong; his memory is yet retentive, and his judgment sound. His hand-writing is extremely firm and legible. No man ever lived, or ever will, or can live, more completely devoted to his labours. They are his meat and drink--as much as his "bouilli et petites poies:"--of which I saw him partaking on repeated visits. Occupied from morning till night in the prosecution of his studies--in a quarter of Paris extremely secluded--he appears to be almost unconscious of passing occurrences without;[158] except it be of the sittings of the _Institute_, which he constantly attends, on Fridays, as one of the Secretaries. I have twice dined with him; and, each time, in company with the Abbé Bétencourt, his brother Secretary at the Institute; and his old, long-tried, and most intimate friend.

The Abbé BÉTENCOURT was not unknown to me during his late residence in England, as an Emigré: but he is still-better known to our common friend * * *, who gave me the letter of introduction to Dom Brial. That mutual knowledge brought us quickly together, and made us as quickly intimate. The Abbé is above the middle height; wears his own grey hair; has an expressive countenance, talks much; and well, and at times drolly. Yet his wit or mirth is well attempered to his years. His manner of _rallying_ his venerable friend is very amusing; for Dom Brial, from his deafness, (like most deaf men) drops at times into silence and abstraction. On each of my dinner-visits, it was difficult to say which was the hotter day. But Dom Brial's residence, at the hour of dinner, (which was four--for my own accommodation) happened luckily to be in the _shade_. We sat down, three, to a small circular table, (in the further or fourth room) on the tiled floor of which was some very ancient wine, within the immediate grasp of the right hand of the host. An elderly female servant attended in the neighbouring room. The dinner was equally simple, relishing, and abundant; and the virtues of the "old wine" were quickly put into circulation by the Benedictin founder of the feast.

At six we rose from table, and walked in the Luxembourg gardens, hard by. The air had become somewhat cooler. The sun was partially concealed by thin, speckled clouds: a gentle wind was rising; and the fragrance of innumerable flowers, from terraces crowded with rose-trees, was altogether so genial and refreshing, that my venerable companions--between whom I walked arm in arm--declared that "they hardly knew when the gardens had smelt so sweetly." We went straight onward--towards the _Observatoire_, the residence of the Astronomer Royal. In our way thither we could not avoid crossing the _Rue d' Enfer_, where Marshal Ney was shot. The spot, which had been stained with his blood, was at this moment covered by skittles, and groups of stout lads were enjoying themselves in all directions. It should seem that nothing but youthful sports and pastimes had ever prevailed there: so insensibly do succeeding occupations wear away all traces of the past. I paused for half a minute, casting a thoughtful eye towards the spot. The Abbé Bétencourt moralised aloud, and Dom Brial seemed inwardly to meditate. We now reached the Observatory. The Sub-Principal was at home, and was overjoyed to receive his venerable visitors. He was a fellow-townsman of Dom Brial, and we were shewn every thing deserving of notice. It was nearly night-fall, when, on reaching the Rue Servandoni, I wished my amiable companions adieu, till we met again.

I have before mentioned the name of M. GAIL. Let me devote a little more time and attention to him. He is, as you have been also previously told, the curator of the Greek and Latin MSS. in the Royal Library, and a Greek Professor in the Collège Royale. There is no man, at all alive to a generous and kind feeling, who can deny M. Gail the merit of a frank, benevolent, and hearty disposition. His Greek and Latin studies, for the last thirty-five years, have neither given a severe bias to his judgment, nor repressed the ebullitions of an ardent and active imagination. His heart is yet all warmth and kindness. His fulfilment of the duties of his chair has been exemplary and beneficial; and it is impossible for the most zealous and grateful of her sons, to have the prosperity of the Collège Royale more constantly in view, than my friend I.B. Gail has that of the University of Paris. His labours, as a scholar, have been rather useful than critical. He has edited _Anacreon_ more than once: and to the duodecimo edition of 1794, is prefixed a small portrait--medallion-wise--of the editor; which, from the costume of dress and juvenility of expression, does not much remind me of the Editor as he now is. M. Gail's great scholastic work is his Greek, Latin, and French, editions of _Xenophon_ and _Thucydides_, in twenty-four quarto volumes; but in the execution of this performance he suffered himself to be rather led astray by the attractions of the _Bibliomania_. In other words, he chose to indulge in membranaceous propensities; and nothing would serve M. Gail's turn but he must have a unique COPY UPON VELLUM! in a quarto form.[159] Twenty four quarto volumes upon vellum!.. enough to chill the ardour and drain the purse of the most resolute and opulent publisher.

When I dined with the Editor, the other day, I was shewn these superb volumes with all due form and solemnity: and I must say that they do very great credit to the press of the Elder Didot. Yet I fear that it will be a long time before the worthy M. Gail is remunerated for his enterprising and speculative spirit. In all the duties attached to his situation in the Royal Library, this worthy character is equally correct and commendable. He is never so fully occupied with old Greek and Latin MSS., but that he will immediately attend to your wants; and, as much as depends upon himself, will satisfy them most completely. Anacreon has left behind some little deposit of good humour and urbanity, which has continued to nourish the heart of his Translator; for M. Gail is yet jocose, and mirth-loving; fond of a lively repartee, whether in conversation or in writing. He may count some sixty-two years.

But it is high time to introduce you to another of these "Confrères" at the Bibliothèque du Roi; of whom indeed, hitherto, I have made but a slight mention. You will readily guess that this must be the well-known AUBIN LOUIS MILLIN--the Head of the department of Antiquities; or the principal _Archaeologist_ of the establishment. My friend Mr. Dawson Turner having furnished me with introductory credentials, I called upon M. Millin within twenty-four hours of my arrival at Paris. In consequence, from that time to this, I have had frequent intercourse with him. Indeed I am willing to hope that our acquaintance has well nigh mellowed into friendship. He is a short, spare, man; with a countenance lighted up by intelligence rather than moulded by beauty. But he is evidently just now (and indeed, as I learn, has been for some time past) labouring under severe indisposition. He is the thorough Frenchman both in figure and manners: light, cheerful, active, diligent, and exceedingly good natured and communicative. His apartments are admirably furnished: and his LIBRARY does him infinite honour--considering the limited means by which it has been got together. His abode is the constant resort of foreigners, from all countries, and of all denominations; and the library is the common property of his friends, and even of strangers--when they are well recommended to him.

Millin has been a great traveller; but, if the reports which have reached me prove true, his second voyage to Italy, recently accomplished, have sown the seeds of incurable disease in his constitution. Indeed: when I look at him, at times, I fancy that I discover _that_ in his countenance ... which I wish were not so palpable ... to my observation. His collection of drawings, of fac-similes of all descriptions--of prints and of atlasses--is immense. They are freely laid open to the inspection of any curious observer: and I have already told you how heartily M. Millin begged that Mr. Lewis would consider his house as his _home_--for the prosecution of his drawings from the illuminated MSS. in the Royal Library, when the regular time of attendance in that place was closed. The other day, we had a superb déjeuné à la fourchette at M. Millin's--about three o'clock. It was attended by two Marchionesses, of the _bas bleu_ order; and by the whole corps of the confrères bibliographiques of the Royal Library. Several other literary _distingués_ were of the party: and we sat down, a very agreeable mélange, both to gossip and to eat and drink. M. Langlès was all animation and all intelligence; and M. Van Praet seemed for a time to have forgotten VELLUM ARISTOTLES and VIRGILS in alternate libations of champagne and noyeau. Meanwhile, the worthy Gail, by his playful sallies and repartees, afforded a striking contrast to the balanced attitude and grave remarks of the respectable Caperonnier, the senior Librarian. Poor Millin himself had no appetite, but picked a little here and there. We sat down about fourteen; rose at six--to coffee and conversazione; and retired shortly after: some to the theatre, and others to their country houses. This is pretty nearly a correct picture of the bettermost society of Paris at this time of the year.

In regard to the literary reputation of MILLIN, I well know that, in England, it is rather the fashion to sneer at him; but this sneer may proceed as often from ignorance, as from superiority of information. The truth is, M. Millin does _too much_ to do every thing _well_. At one moment, he is busied with a dyptych: at another, he is examining a coin or a medal: during the third, he is lost in admiration over a drawing of a tomb or statue:--his attendant enters with a proof-sheet to engage his fourth moment--and so it goes on--from sunrise to sunset; with pen in hand, or blank or printed paper before him, he is constantly occupied in the pursuit of some archaeological enquiry or other. THIS praise, however--and no mean or unperishable praise it is--most indisputably belongs to him. He was almost the ONLY ONE in France; who, during the reign of terror, bloodshed, and despotism--cherished and kept alive a taste for NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES. But for _his_ perseverance, and the artists employed by _him_, we should not now have had those _graphic_ representations of many buildings, and relics of art, which have since perished irretrievably. Another praise also belongs to him; of no very insignificant description. He is among the most obliging and communicative of literary Parisians; and does not suffer his good nature to be soured, or his activity to abate, from the influence of _national_ prejudice. He has a large acquaintance among foreigners; and I really think that he loves the English next best to his own countrymen. But whoever applies to him with civility, is sure to be as civilly received. So much for MILLIN.[160]

This group of literary _whole lengths_ would however be imperfect without the introduction of Monsieur LANGLÈS. The _forte_ of M. Langlès consists in his cultivation of, and enthusiastic ardor for, _oriental literature_. He presides, in fact, over the Persian, Arabic, and other Oriental MSS. and he performs the duties of his office, as a public librarian, with equal punctuality and credit. He has also published much upon the languages of the East, but is considered less profound than DE SACY: although both his conversation and his library attest his predilection for his particular studies. M. Langlès is eclipsed by no one for that "gaieté de coeur" which, when joined with good manners and honourable principles, renders a well-bred Frenchman an exceedingly desirable companion. He loves also the arts; as well of sculpture as of painting and of engraving. His further room affords unquestionable evidence of his attachment to _English Prints_. Wilson, West, and Wilkie--from the burins of Woollett, Raimbach, and Burnet--struck my eye very forcibly and pleasingly. M. Langlès admires and speaks our language. "Your charming Wilkie (says he) pleases me more and more. Why does he not visit us? He will at least find here some _good proofs_ of my respect for his talents." Of course he could not mean to pun. I was then told to admire his impression of Woollett's _Battle of La Hogue_; and indeed I must allow that it is one of the very best which I have seen. He who possesses _that_, need not distress himself about any of the impressions of the _Death of Wolfe_; which is also in the collection of Langlès.

His library is probably less extensive than Millin's; but it is not less choice and valuable. His collection of books (in which are a great number of our best Voyages and Travels) relating to Asia--and particularly his philological volumes, as connected with the different languages of that country, cannot be too much commended. I saw Sir John Malcolm's _History of Persia_ lying upon his table. "How do you like that work, M. Langlès?" "Sir (replied he) I more than like it--I love it: because I love the author." In fact, I knew that Sir John and he were well acquainted with each other, and I believe that the copy in question bore the distinctive mark of being "ex dono auctoris." I have had a good deal of interesting conversation with M. Langlès about the history of books during the Revolution; or rather about that of the ROYAL LIBRARY. He told me he was appointed one of the commissioners to attend to the distribution of those countless volumes which were piled up in different warehouses, as the produce of the _ransacked monasteries_. I am not sure, whether, within the immediate neighbourhood of the Royal Library, he did not say that there were at least _half a million of books_. At that time, every public meeting of Parisians--whatever might be the professed object--was agitated, and often furious. One of the red-hot demagogues got up in the assembly, and advised "mangling, maiming, or burning the books: they were only fit for cartridges, wadding, or fuel: they were replete with marks of feudalism and royalty--for they had arms or embellishments on them, which denoted them to belong to Aristocrats." This speech made some impression: his comrades were for carrying the motion immediately into execution, by sword and faggot.... But M. Langlès rose ... calm, collected, and actuated by feelings a little more accordant with the true spirit of patrotism. "Citizens," said the Orientalist, "we must not do mischief, in the desire of doing good. Let the books remain where they are. If you set fire to them, can you say how far the flames shall extend? Our own great national library, so renowned and celebrated throughout Europe! may become the prey of the devouring element, and _then_ how will you be reproached by posterity! Again--if you convert them to _other_ purposes of destruction, how can you hope to prevent the same example from being followed in other places? The madness of the multitude will make no distinction; and as many pikes and swords may be carried within the great library, as within the various depositories of the monastic books. Pause awhile. Respect those collections of books, and you will both respect yourselves and preserve the great national library. In due time, we shall make a proper selection from them, and enrich the book stores of the capital!" So spake M. Langlès; and the Assembly assented to his contre-projet--luckily for Paris and themselves.[161]

But nearly all these worthy characters, of whom I have just made mention, had an opportunity of exhibiting their social qualities, of whatever description, at a sort of FESTIVAL which I gave the other day (last Wednesday) in honour of the _Roxburghe Club_--which met on that same day, I presume, at the Clarendon Hotel. This Parisian Roxburghe Banquet went off upon the whole with flying colours. You shall know as much about it as is likely to interest you. Having secured my guests, (Messrs. DENON, GAIL, LANGLÈS, VAN PRAET and MILLIN) and fixed both the place and hour of repast, I endeavoured to dress out a little bill of fare of a _bibliomaniacal_ description--to rival, in its way, that of _Mons. Grignon_, in the _Rue Neuve des Petits Champs_, (within two minutes walk of the Royal Library,) where we were to assemble, at five o'clock. I knew that Millin would put my toasts or sentiments into good French, and so I took courage against the hour of meeting. I had secured a ground-floor apartment, looking upon a lawn, with which it communicated by open doors. The day was unusually hot and oppressive. After finishing my labours at the Royal Library, I returned to my hotel, arranged my little matters connected with the by-play of the festival--dressed--and resorted to Grignon's. Every thing looked well and auspiciously. Our room was in the shade; and a few lingering breezes seemed to play beneath the branches of an acacia. The dark green bottles, of various tapering shapes, were embedded in pails of ice, upon the table: and napkins and other goodly garniture graced the curiously woven cloth. I hung up, in the simplicity of my heart--over the seat which I was to occupy,-- the portrait of _John King of France_, which M. Coeuré had just finished;-- not considering that this said John had been beaten and taken prisoner, at the battle of Poictiers by our Black Prince! Never was a step more injudicious, or an ornament more unappropriate. However, there it hung throughout the day. A dinner of the very best description, exclusively of the wine, was to be served up for _twelve francs_ a head. I make no doubt but the Club paid a _little_ more where they assembled in London!

At length came the hour of dinner, and with the hour the guests. I requested Brother Van Praet to be deputy chairman; and taking my seat beneath the unfortunate John King of France, gave the signal for a general attack--upon whatever was placed before the guests. Monsieur Denon, however, did not arrive till after the first course. He had been detained by a visit from the Duke of Bedford. M. Millin sat at my right hand, and M. Gail at my left. The first course consisted chiefly of fruit, and slices of anchovy, crossed. A large paper copy of a _melon_ cut a magnificent appearance in the centre; but all this quickly gave way to fish, flesh, and fowl of a various but substantial description. Poor Millin had no appetite, and would only carve. He looked particularly ill. The rest ate, drank, and were merry. The desert was of the very best quality: and this was succeeded by the introduction of a little of English fashion and manners. We drank toasts, connected with the object of the day's festival; and never were a set of guests more disposed to relish both the wine and the sentiment which accompanied each glass. They even insisted upon a "three times three" for "Lord Spencer and the Club!" But if we were merry, we were wise. Shortly after dinner, M. Gail rose, as if in a moment of inspiration, from his seat--and recited the Latin verses which are here enclosed.[162] They will at least make you admire the good humour of thé poet. He afterwards chanted a song: his own literal version of thé XIXth ode of Anacreon, beginning [Greek: Hê gê melaina pinei]. The guests declared that they had never sat so long at table, or were more happy. I proposed a stroll or a seat upon the lawn. Chairs and benches were at hand; and we requested that the coffee might be brought to us out of doors. It was now after sun-set; and a lurid sky was above our head. Our conversation was desultory as to topics, but animated as to manner. I had never witnessed M. Van Praet more alive to social disquisition. We talked of books, of pictures, and of antiquities... and I happened, with the same witless simplicity which had pinned the portrait of King John over my seat at dinner, to mention that volume, of almost unparalleled rarity, ycleped _the Fables of Pfister, printed at Bamberg_ in 1461:--which they had recently RESTORED to the Wolfenbuttel Library! It was "more than enough" for the acute feelings of the devoted head-librarian. M. Van Praet talked with legs and arms, as well as with tongue, in reply to my observations upon the extraordinary worth and singular rarity of that singular volume. "Alas, Sir, nothing pained me more. Truly--"Here a smart flash of lightning came across us--which illumined our countenances with due effect: for it had been sometime past almost wholly dark, and we had been talking to each other without perceiving a feature in our respective faces. M. Langlès joined in M. Van Praet's lamentation; and the Baron Denon, who (as I learnt) had been the means of obtaining that identical precious volume, united his tones of commiseration with those of his brethren.

The lightning now became more frequent, and in larger flashes--but neither sharp nor very dazzling. Meanwhile the notes of a skilfully touched harp were heard from one of the windows of a neighbouring house, with a mingled effect which it was difficult to describe. _Pfister_, books, busts, and music, now wholly engrossed our attention--and we were absolutely enveloped in blue lightning. We had continued our discourse till towards midnight, had not the rain come down in a manner equally sudden and severe. It was one of the heaviest showers which I remember to have witnessed. The storm was directly in the centre of Paris, and over our heads. We retreated precipitately to the deserted banqueting room; and had a reinforcement of coffee. After such a series of melting hot weather, I shall not easily forget the refreshing sweetness emitted from every shrub upon the lawn. About ten o'clock, we thought of our respective homes.[163] I went into another room to pay the reckoning; liberated King John from his second confinement; shook hands very heartily with my guests--and returned to my lodgings by no means out of humour or out of heart with the day's entertainment. Whether they have been more rational, or more _economical_, in the celebration of the same festival, AT HOME, is a point, which I have some curiosity, but no right, to discuss. Certainly they could not have been happier.

Having come to the conclusion of my account of the ROXBURGHE BANQUET, and it being just now hard upon the hour of midnight, I must relinquish my correspondent for my pillow. A good night.

[156] He died on the 24th of May, 1828; on the completion of his 85th year.
See the next note but one.

[157] The reader may be amused with the following testy note of my vigilant
translator, M. Crapelet: the very Sir Fretful Plagiary of the minor
tribe of French critics! "Cette phrase, qui n'est pas Française, est
ainsi rapportée par l'auteur. M. l'Abbé Bétencourt, aura dit a peu
près: "Il mourra sans laisser d'élève." M. Dibdin qui parle et entend
fort bien le Français, EST IL EXCUSABLE DE FAIRE MAL PARLER UN
ACADEMICIEN FRANÇAIS, et surtout de rendre vicieuses presque toutes
les phrases qu'il veut citer textuellement? L'exactitude!
l'exactitude! C'est la première vertu du bibliographe; on ne saurait
trop le répéter a M. Dibdin." CRAPELET. vol. iv. 124. Quære tamen?
Ought not M. Crapelet to have said "il mourrira?" The sense implies
the future tense: But ... how inexpiable the offence of making a
French Academician speak bad French!!--as if every reader of common
sense would not have given _me_, rather than the _Abbé Bétencourt_,
credit for this bad speaking?

[158] [In a short, and pleasing, memoir of him, in the _Révue
Encyclopédique, 115th livraison, p. 277, &c._ it is well and
pleasantly observed, that, "such was his abstraction from all
surrounding objects and passing events, he could tell you who was
Bishop of such a diocese, and who was Lord of such a fief, in the
XIIth century, much more readily, and with greater chance of being
correct, than he would, who was the living Minister of the Interior,
or who was the then Prefect of the department of the Seine?" By the
kindness of a common friend, I have it in my power to subjoin a
fac-simile of the autograph of this venerable Departed:]

[Autograph]

[159] The _Thucydides_ was published first; in twelve volumes 8vo.
VOL. II. 1807; with various readings, for the first time, from
thirteen MSS. not before submitted to the public eye. The French
version, in four volumes, with the critical notes of the Editor, may
be had separately. The VELLUM 4to. copy of the Thucydides consists of
fourteen volumes; but as the volumes are less bulky than those of the
Xenophon, they may be reduced to seven. The _Xenophon_ was published
in 1809, in seven volumes, 4to. The Latin version is that of
Leunclavius; the French version and critical notes are those of M.
Gail. The vellum copy, above alluded to, is divided into ten volumes;
the tenth being an Atlas of fifty-four maps. Some of these volumes are
very bulky from the thickness of the vellum.

Upon this unique copy, M. Gail submitted to me, in writing, the
following remarks. "Of the Xenophon, two vellum copies were printed;
but of these, one was sent to the father of the present King of Spain,
and received by him in an incomplete state--as the Spanish Ambassador
told M. Gail: only six volumes having reached the place of their
destination. The Editor undertakes to give authenticated attestations
of this fact." "If," say M. Gail's written observations, "one
considers that each sheet of vellum, consisting of eight pages, cost
five francs ten sous, and three more francs in working off--and that
skins of vellum were frequently obliged to be had from foreign
countries, owing to the dearth of them at Paris--whereby the most
extravagant demands were sometimes obliged to be complied with--add to
which, that fifteen years have passed away since these sums were paid
down in hard cash,--the amount of the original expenses is doubled."
The volumes are in stout boards, and preserved in cases. In one of his
letters to me, respecting the sale of his vellum copy--the worthy
Professor thus pleasantly remarks: "Je ne veux pas m'enricher avec ce
livre qui, lorsque je serai cendres, aura un bien grand prix. Je n'ai
que le desir de me débarrasser d'une richesse qui m'est à charge, et
ne convient nullement à un modeste et obscur particulier, comme moi."
I subjoin the autograph of this worthy and learned Professor: hoping
yet to shake the hand heartily which guided the pen.

[Autograph]

[160] M. Millin DIED about the middle of the following month, ere I had
reached Vienna. His library was sold by auction in May 1819, under the
superintendence of Messrs. Debure, who compiled the sale catalogue. It
produced 53,626 francs. The catalogue contained 2556 articles or
numbers; of which several were very long sets. One article alone, no.
866., consisted of 326 volumes in folio, quarto, and octavo. It is
thus designated, "RECUEIL DE PIECES SUR LES ARTS, LA LITTE'RATURE, LES
ANTIQUITE'S, _en Latin, en Italien, et en François_. This article
produced 4501 francs, and was purchased by the Grand Duke of Tuscany.
Millin had brought up from boyhood, and rescued from poverty and
obscurity, a lad of the name of _Mention_. This lad lived with him
many years, in the capacity of a valet and private secretary. In his
second and last voyage to Italy, Millin declined taking him with him,
but left him at home, in his house, with a salary of fifty francs per
month. Five months after his departure, in February, 1812, a great
quantity of smoke was seen issuing from the windows of Millin's
apartments. Several people rushed into the room. They found the
drawings and loose papers taken from the portfolios, rolled up
lightly, and the room on fire at the four corners! A lighted candle
was placed in the middle of the room. Suspicion immediately fell upon
Mention. They ran to his bed chamber: found the door fastened: burst
it open--and saw the wretched valet weltering in his blood ... yet
holding, in his-right hand, the razor with which he had cut his
throat! He was entirely dead. Millin's collection of Letters from his
numerous Correspondents perished in the flames.

This accident, which also deprived Millin of a fund of valuable
materials that he was preparing for a _Dictionary of the Fine Arts_,
and for a _Recueil de Pièces gravées Inédites_--might have also had an
infinitely more fatal tendency: as it occurred _within_ the walls
which contain the ROYAL LIBRARY! Millin received the news of this
misfortune, in Italy, with uncommon fortitude and resignation. But
this second voyage, as has been already intimated, (see p. 260)
hastened his dissolution. He planned and executed infinitely too much;
and never thoroughly recovered the consequent state of exhaustion of
body and mind. As he found his end approaching, he is reported to have
said--"I should like to have lived longer, in order to have done more
good--but God's will be done! I have lived fifty-nine years, the
happiest of men--and should I not be ungrateful towards Providence, if
I complained of its decrees?!" And when still nearer his latter
moments--he exclaimed: "I have always lived, and I die, a Frenchman:
hating no one: complaining only of those who retard the cause of
reason and truth. I have never, intentionally, hurt a single creature.
If I have injured any one, I ask pardon of him for the error of my
understanding." He died on the 18th of August, and his body was
interred in the churchyard of Père la Chaise. His old friend and
colleague, M. GAIL, pronounced a funeral discourse over his grave--in
which, as may be well supposed, his feelings were most acutely
excited. I subjoin a facsimile of Millin's autograph: from the richly
furnished collection of Mr. Upcott, of the London Institution.

[Autograph: A.L. Millin]

[161] [Mons. Langlès survived the above account between five and six years;
dying January 28, 1824. His Library was sold by auction in March,
1825. It was copious and highly creditable to his memory. From the
source whence the preceding autograph was derived, I subjoin the
following autograph.

[Autograph: L Langlès]

[162] Monsieur Millin had been before hand in his description of this day's
festival, but his description was in prose. It appeared in the
_Annales Encyclopédiques_, for the ensuing month, July, 1818, and was
preceded by a slight historical sketch of the Club, taken chiefly from
the Bibliographical Decameron. His account of the festival may amuse
some of my readers, who have not been accustomed to peruse _English
toasts_ cloathed in French language. It is briefly thus:

"Pendant que les membres du Roxburghe Club célébroient le 17 juin 1818
la mémoire des premiers imprimeurs de Boccace, à Venise et en
Angleterre, sous la présidence de sa grâce lord Spencer; M. Dibdin,
vice-président, s'unissoit à ce banquet bibliographique par une
répétition qu'il en faisoit à Paris. Il avoit appelé à ce banquet M.
DENON, à qui la France doit encore une grande partie des manuscrits et
des éditions rares dont elle s'est enrichie, et plusieurs
conservateurs de la bibliothèque royale, MM. VANPRAET, LANGLE'S, GAIL,
et MILLIN. On pense bien que l'histoire littéraire, la bibliographie,
devinrent un inépuisable sujet pour la conversation. L'entretien
offrit un mélange de gaïté et de gravité qui convient aux banquets des
muses; et selon l'adage antique, les convives étoient plus que trois
et moins que neuf. M. Gail lut sur cette réunion des vers latins, dont
les toasts bruyans ne permirent pas de savourer d'abord tout le sel et
l'esprit. Ils doivent être imprimés dans _l'Hermes Romanus_.

"M.D., amphitryon et président du festin, porta, comme il convenoit,
les premiers toasts:

1°. A la santé de milord Spencer et des honorables membres du
Roxburghe Club. 2°. A la mémoire de Christophe Valdarfer, inprimeur du
Boccace de 1471; livre dont l'acquisition fait par le duc de
Marlborough, fut l'occasion de la fondation du Roxburghe Club. 3°. A
la mémoire immortelle de Guillaume Caxton, premier imprimeur anglois.
4°. A la gloire de la France. 5°. A l'union perpétuelle de la France
et de l'Angleterre. 6°. A la prospérité de la bibliothèque royale de
France. 7°. A la santé de ses dignes conservateurs, dont le savoir est
inépuisable, et dont l'obligeance ne se lasse jamais. 8°. A la
propagation des sciences, des arts, des lettres, et de la bibliomanie.
9°. Au désir de se revoir le même jour chaque année.

"Les convives ont rendu ces toasts par un autre qu'ils ont porté, avec
les hurras et les trois fois d'usage en Angleterre, au vice-président
du Roxburghe-Club, qui leur avoit fait l'honneur de les rassembler.

"La Séance a fini à l'heure où le président du Roxburghe-Club lève
celle de Londres; et le vice-président, M. Dibdin, a soigneusement
réuni les bouchons, pour les porter en Angleterre comme un signe
commémoratif de cet agréable banquet."[E]

The verses of Monsieur Gail were as follow:--but I should premise that
he recited them with zest and animation.

Auspice jam Phæbo, SPENCEROQUE AUSPICE, vestrum
Illa renascentis celebravit gaudia lucis
Concilium, stupuit quondam quâ talibus emptus
Boccacius cunctorum animis, miratus honores
Ipse suos, atque ipsa superbiit umbra triumpho.
Magna quidem lux illa, omni lux tempore digna.
Cui redivivus honos et gloria longa supersit
_Atque utinam ex vobis unus, vestræque fuissem_
Lætitiæ comes, et doctæ conviva _trapezæ_.
Sed nune invitorque epulis, interque volentes
Gallus Apollineâ sedeo quasi lege Britannos.

Arridet D***: habet nos una voluptas.
Me quoque librorum meministis amore teneri,
Atque virûm studiis, quos Gallia jactat alumnos:
Nam si _Caxtonio_ felix nunc Anglia gaudet,
Non minus ipsa etiam _Stephanorum_ nomina laudat.
Hic nonnulla manent priscæ vestigia famæ.
Nobis Thucydides, Xenophon quoque pumice et auro,
Quem poliit non parca manus; felicior ille
Si possit ...[F] melius conjungere Musas!
[Greek: Koina ta panta philôn] perhibent: at semper amici
Quidquid doctorum est: tantis ego lætor amicis.
Æternum hæc vigeat concordia pocula firment
Artesque et libri, quæ nectant foedera reges,
Utramque et socient simul omnia vincula gentem.

CECINIT JOAN. B. GAIL,

Lector regius in biblioth. regiâ codd. gr. et lat. præfectus.

While one of the London morning newspapers (which shall be here
nameless) chose to convert this harmless scene of festive mirth into a
coarse and contemptible attack upon its author, the well-bred
Bibliomanes of Paris viewed it with a different feeling, and drew from
it a more rational inference. It was supposed, by several gentlemen of
education and fortune, that a RIVAL SOCIETY might be established among
themselves--partaking in some degree of the nature of that of the
ROXBURGHE, although necessarily regulated by a few different laws.

Taking the regulations of the ROXBURGHE CLUB (as laid down in the
_Ninth Day_ of the _Decameron_) as the basis, they put together a code
of laws for the regulation of a similar Society which they chose, very
aptly, to call LES BIBLIOPHILES. Behold then, under a new name, a
_Parisian Roxburghe Society_. When I visited Paris, in the summer, of
1819, I got speedily introduced to the leading Members of the club,
and obtained, from M. DURAND DE LANÇON, (one of the most devoted and
most efficient of the members) that information--which is here
submitted to the public: from a persuasion that it cannot be deemed
wholly uninteresting, or out of order, even by the most violent
enemies of the _cause_." The _object_ of this Society of the
BIBLIOPHILES must be expressed in the proper language of the country.
It is "_pour nourrir, reléver, et faire naître méme la passion de la_
_Bibliomanie_." I put it to the conscience of the most sober-minded
observer of men and things--if any earthly object can be more orthodox
and legitimate? The Society meet, as a corporate body, twice in the
year: once in April, the second time in December; and date the
foundation of their Club from the 1st of January 1820. Whatever they
print, bears the general title of "_Mélanges_;"[G] but whether this
word will be executed in the black-letter, lower-case, or in roman
capitals, is not yet determined upon. One or two things, however, at
starting, cannot fail to be premised; and indeed has been already
observed upon--as a species of _heresy_. The Society assemble to a
"déjeuné à la fourchette," about twelve o'clock: instead of to a
"seven o'clock dinner," as do the London Roxburghers: whereby their
constitutions and pockets are less affected. The other thing, to
observe upon, is, that they do not print (and publish among
themselves) such very strange, and out-of-the way productions, as do
the London Roxburghers. For truly, of _some_ of the latter, it may be
said with the anonymous poet in the _Adversaria_ of Barthius,

Verum hæc nee puer edidici, nee tradita patre
Accepi, nee Aristotelis de moribus umquam
Librum, aut divini Platonis dogmata legi.
_Edit. Fabri_. 1624, col. 345, vol. i.

And why is it thus? Because these reprints are occasionally taken
(quoting Caspar Barthius himself, in the xxth chapter of his iid book
of Adversaria, _Edit. Ead_.) "ex libro egregiè obscuro et a blattis
tineisque fere confecto." But, on the other hand, they are perfectly
harmless:

Sweet without soure, and honny without gall:

as Spenser observes in his _Colin Clout's come home again: edit._
1595: sign. E.F. Or, as is observed in _Les Illustrations de France,
edit_. 1513, 4to. litt. goth.:

Le dedens nest, ne trop cler, ne trop brun,
Mais delectable a veoir...comme il me semble. _Sign. Cii. rev_.

A genuine disciple of the Roxburghe Club will always exclaim
"delectable a veoir" let the contents of the book be "cler," or
"brun." Nor will such enthusiastic Member allow of the epithets of
"hodg-podge, gallimaufry, rhapsody," &c. which are to be found in the
"Transdentals General," of Bishop Wilkins's famous "_Essay towards a
real character and a philosophical language:"_ edit. 1668, fol. p.
28--as applicable to his beloved reprints! I annex the names of the
Members of the Societé des Bibliophiles, as that club was first
established.

1. Le Marquis de Chateaugiron, _Président_. 2. Guilbert de
Pixérécours, _Secrétaire_. 3. Le Chevalier Walckenaer, _Membre de
l'Institut, Trésorier._ 4. Alph. de Malartic, _Maître des Requêtes._
5. Durand de Lançon. 6. Edouard de Chabrol. 7. Berard, _Maître des
Requêtes_. 8. Le Vcte. de Morel-Vindé, _Pair de France._ 9. Madame la
Duchesse de Raguse, (_par courtoisie_.) 10. Pensier. 11. Comte Juste
de Noailles. 12. Le Baron Hely d'Oisel, _Conseiller d'etat._ 13. Le
Marquis Scipion du Nocere, _Officier Superieur du Garde du Corps_. 14.
Hippolyte de la Porte. 15. De Monmerqué, _Conseiller à la Cour
Royale_. 16. Coulon, _à Lyon._ 17. Le Duc de Crussol. 18. Le Comte
d'Ourches, _à Nancy._ 19. Le Chevalier Langlès, _Membre de
l'Institut._ 20. Duriez, _à Lille._ 21. Le Marquis Germain Garnier,
_Pair de France_. 22. Monsieur le Chevalier Artaud, _Secrétaire d'
Ambass. à Rome_.

It remains to conclude this, I fear unconscionably long, note, as the
above letter is concluded, with the mention of ANOTHER BANQUET. This
banquet was given by the Bibliophiles to the NOBLE PRESIDENT of the
Roxburghe Club, when the latter was at Paris in the Spring of the year
1820. The Vice-President of the Roxburghe Club, who happened at the
same time to be at Paris, also received the honour of an invitation.
The festival took place at _Beauvilliers'_, the modern Apicius of
Parisian restorateurs. About twelve guests sat down to table. The
Marquis de Chateaugiron was in the chair. They assembled at six, and
separated at half-past nine. All that refinement and luxury could
produce, was produced on the occasion. Champagnes of different tints,
and of different qualities--_lively_ like M. Langlès, or _still_ like
Monsieur ****; fish, dressed as they dress it à la Rocher de Cancale--
poultry, and pastry--varied in form, and piquant in taste--but better,
and more palatable than either, conversation--well regulated and
instructive--mingled with the most respectful attention to the
ILLUSTRIOUS GUEST for whom the banquet had been prepared--gave a charm
and a "joyaunce" to the character of that festival--which will not be
easily effaced from the tablets of the narrator's memory. Where all
shine pretty equally, it seems invidious to particularise. Yet I may
be allowed to notice the hearty urbanity of the Marquis, the thorough
good humour and bibliomaniacal experience of the Comte d'Ourches,
(who, ever and anon, would talk about an edition of _Virgil's
Pastorals printed by Eggesteyn_) the vivacious sallies of the
Chevalier Langlès, the keen yet circumspect remarks of the Comte
Noailles, the vigilant attention and toast-stirring propensities of
M.D. de Lançon, the _Elzevirian_ enthusiasm of M. Berard, the ... But
enough ... "Claudite jam rivos pueri--sat prata biberunt."

[E] These Corks are yet (1829) in my possession: preserved in an
old wooden box, with ribs of iron, of the time of Louis XI.

[F] The word here in the original is not clear.

[G] [They have now published FOUR VOLUMES, in royal 8vo. of
singular beauty and splendour: but the fourth vol. falls far short
of its precursors in the intrinsic value of its contents. The
first volume is so scarce, as to have brought £20. at a sale in
Paris. I possess the three latter vols. only, by the kindness of
the Society, in making me, with Earl Spencer, an Honorary
Associate.]

[163] [The Reader must not break up with the party, until he has cast his
eye upon the autograph of an Individual, of as high merit and
distinction in the department which he occupies, as any to which he
has yet been introduced. It only remains to say--it is the autograph
of Mons.

[Autograph]

_LETTER X._

THE COLLECTIONS OF DENON, QUINTIN CRAUFURD, AND THE MARQUIS DE SOMMARIVA.

All the world has heard of the famous DENON, the Egyptian traveller; and editor of the great work of the _Antiquities of Egypt_, published in 1802, in two sumptuous folio volumes. As you possess a copy of the French work,[164] with choice impressions of the plates, I need say nothing further upon the subject--except that I believe it to be one of the very finest works of the kind, which has ever appeared ... on the score of art. But the author has other claims to attention and popularity. He was an intimate friend--and certainly the confidential adviser--of Buonaparte, in all public schemes connected with the acquisition of pictures and statues: and undoubtedly he executed the task confided to him with _ability_. He was verging oh his sixtieth year, when he started with his master upon the Egyptian expedition--a proof at least of energy, as well as of good disposition, in the cause. But Denon has been a great European traveller: he has had access to private, as well as to public, cabinets; and has brought home some rich fruits of his enterprise and taste.

His house, on the _Quai Malaquais_, is the rendezvous of all the English of any taste--who have respectable letters of introduction; and I must do him the justice to say, that, never did a man endure the _inconveniences_ which must frequently result from keeping such open house, with greater adroitness and good humour than does the Baron Denon. I have sometimes found his principal rooms entirely filled by my countrymen and countrywomen; and I once, from the purest accident, headed a party of _twenty-two_ ... in which were three British officers, and more than that number of members of either University. I will fairly own that, on receiving us, he drew me quietly aside, and observed:--"Mon ami, quand vous viendrez une autre fois, ne commandez pas, je vous prie, une armée si nombreuse. Je m'imaginois encore en Egypte." What was still more perplexing, we found there a party of English as numerous as ourselves. It was thus, however, that he rebuked my indiscretion.

We had twice exchanged visits and cards before we met. The card of Denon was worth possessing, from the simple, unaffected modesty which it evinced. You merely read the word DENON upon it!... The owner of the collection which I am about to describe, is certainly "un peu passé" as to years; but he has a cheerful countenance, with the tint of health upon it; small, gray, sparkling eyes, and teeth both regular and white.[165] He is generally dressed in black, and always as a gentleman. His figure, not above the middle height, is well formed; and his step is at once light and firm. There is doubtless a good deal which is very prepossessing in his manners. As he understands nothing of the English language, he can of course neither read nor speak it.